I’ve lost count of the number of people who tell me they’ll miss Berlusconi as he finally steps down, after 17 years, from guiding the good ship post-fascist Italy.
Ah, they say mournfully, if only we had politicians like that, with big happy red faces full of revelry, hosting wild all-night bunga bunga parties busy with come-hither escort girls.
Even Boris looks tame next to Silvio, with the latter’s sexy alleged Mafia connections and hilarious ownership of half the nation’s media which ensured a preponderance of glowing reviews of his leadership while he steered the country into bankruptcy. You have to hand it to him, they chuckle, what chutzpah the Thatcher-loving bon viveur had,.
What a lust for life, as well as possibly underage prostitutes (case pending).
If only such brilliant side-splitting billionaires were filling seats in boring old Stormont or the House of Commons.
I don’t get it. But I guess that’s just my problemo.