Second coming of the Portuguese

Darling Ma-hinder,

Bubbling and boiling with a thousand thoughts inside me gorgeous nut, Thellie was obviously wondering whom to write to this week. I mean to say those bally elections in Uncle Sam are becoming so riveting I am ashamed

to admit I once had to turn my head away from you speechifying at the opening of a local dansala aired on ITN, in order to get a glimpse of Sarah Palin's rimless spectacles on CNN.

It's been the curse of cable in Paradise dearie that you are now losing your audience to reruns of The Nanny and repetitions of Seinfeld not to mention constant chitter chatter by what CNN is calling the 'Best Political

Team on Television.'

This dear is because they haven't been tuned in to all the 10 local channels on a specific Tuesday of any given month when you, together with Gota, PBJ, Karu, Sour-gin and a few of your hand picked lackeys including sometimes even Baa-sil sit together at Temple Trees and have a bit of a chin wag with a selected group of full toss type pressmen and women who as luck would have it are obviously fighting shy of bowling you a googly or tossing you a hard one.

Now that there darling is what you call a bally political team eh! Up yours CNNNNN!

Anyway dear, wondering who should be the lucky recipient of my Sunday letter writing aside, one would scarcely expect me to absent myself from a bit o' supper at the local Chinese and a spot of Chardonnay at Cheers.

And following this little outing I was to reel in at 3 in the morning last night arousing the neighbourhood with a screech of tyres for what reason I do not know. Possibly for the same reason for which you were voted in President.

And amidst the din I realised suddenly and quickly that I the CorresponDOR needed if you will a corresponDEE. Here was much to write on and as usual I settled like a bee to honey on you.

Really darling with Sarath Fonnie suddenly whipping out unregistered deeds notarised by JHU monks to prove the land belonged to his ancestors - which is worrying to say the least considering that the very name Fonnie has the

hint of some Portuguese descent in the distant past - Thellie was left wondering where she fit into this labyrinth of ownership claims.

I mean to say not many moons ago I did receive a bit of land the size of a handkerchief due to the demise of an aged parent. This bit of turf possibly belongs to me in the parochial sense but not in the larger scheme of things I wager. But what Fonnie has in mind is something far more phenomenal.

He takes large swaths of land, in fact I suspect the whole of Paradise and serves it up for himself and the race he likes to feel he represents and assumes mind you that other fellows of that same race will have a brain the size of a peanut like he does.

That the JHU chaps have no brains is a matter of which one can take judicial notice of. No evidence need be lead to prove that point. Thellie you may notice from time to time from her modest writings has dallied a little bit with the legal side of things in her salad days dearie and while I cannot claim to have got a toe hold on the entirety of the subject I am pretty sure there is nothing in the Colombo Land Registry that this land belongs to the lions and that any other blokes are staying here with the kind permission of U-NO-HOO.

It is perhaps not uncommon for a JHU monk to toddle-along on a Wednesday evening to night school at the local tutory down Pirivena Mawatha to glean a little bit about such irritating legal verbiage as conveyancing, deeds

poll, caveats and fiduciary relationships.

But it did surprise me to learn that Fonnie, the JHU and now even that bearded bounder Keheliya have jumped on this band wagon and what really gets my goat - and anyone who knows Thellie would tell you that rarely can anyone get her goat - is that the percentages are all wrong.

I mean to say there's the Dutch and God bless em... as we are approaching the holiday season all that Breuder as well. Then there are the Portuguese of whom I suspect Fonnie knows very well. Then the chaps from ole Blighty and the

mix n' match and the pick n' choose and I tell you darling not even in the bally Presidential abode as you well know would you get a pure and simple lioness or lion for that matter.

But then dearie this archaic idiocy notwithstanding Thellie not being a frog in a well and all that has been looking across the transatlantic to our fellow Americans in the land of the free.

Surely darling we Paradisians are entitled to look upon the Americans as our closest siblings given that Paradise is now being run by a set of Yankees from doodle land. And mind you a bunch of Yankees that have a bally vote in Los Angeles come November 4.

And really darling when you get down to the nitty gritty, and there is nothing nittier or grittier for that matter than Sarah Palin attempting to match up to a woman of stature like Hillary Clinton, the campaign there and the campaigns here are much the same.

Perhaps the only difference being that the political spectrum in the US of A doesn't have a Mervyn Silva. though it does have pit bulls and pigs and moose hunters and what not.

Yes Moose stew, polar bear rugs and wolf skin, that about sums up the VEEP of GOP. Really dear, now there's a candidate, don't' you agree. Great bangs and a daughter banged up. Two compellingreasons to vote for a McCain-Palin ticket. And the promise of a nice little supper for all her heterosexual pals to partake of all God's creatures killed with Palin's own fair hands.

Yes m'dear, Palin may sound like a turkey with laryngitis, the only reason you may sense her presence may be from the polar bear blood stain on her fur jacket or the slight scent of gun powder on her right temple, but Palin is scaling the heights of politics.

You may not see her walking her pet dog on the pavement on the end of a pretty leash, though you may see her carrying her pet dog drooling blood over her shoulder, but Palin is a force to be reckoned with. She is if anything the female version of Dubya Bush and you know what folks these bally Americans voted him in too.

Funnily enough though I seem to recall some widely publicised video footage of the al Qaeda apparently testing chemical weapons on a dog. This was designed to shock and repel (as if the world needed to be more shocked by terrorists) for who would do this to an innocent animal except a barbarian who needed to be smoked out of their lairs.

Palin hunts baby bears. In Alaska it certainly wouldn't be a teddy bears' picnic down at the woods today you betcha, doggone it, ain't that so. The wild life Thellie supposes wouldn't care how folksy Palin was as they ran

for their lives like a nervous patient from a dentist drill. Except it wouldn't be a dentist's drill but an oil drill. Palin all the time chanting drill baby drill in a shrill tone.

Me thinks dear that just like in ole Paradise the voter is a superficial fool and more so in Uncle Sam's land darling where their world view is often the top of the garden fence.

Decidedly of course as a worthy candidate, Palin has a larger world view being able to see over Putin's fence as she sits in her rocking chair on the verandah of her home in

Wasilla.

And what's not to like really. A mum of five who hunts and yes you read it here first - murders bear cubs all day and guzzles moose soup at night.

Who is so concerned about not giving undue publicity and support to just one publication she wouldn't reveal what magazines or newspapers she had read in her whole life. Just as if the whole world would tip over if she named just one.

There is no one who thinks Palin is more fabulous than perhaps Palin herself. Even the lecherous Bill Clinton is giving her a wide berth probably having heard of her penchant for giving birth.

Look dear if there is one woman always peddling the cause of other women then that woman is Thellie but Palin is paling in my books. And yes I can name the bally book.

Tell Gota to do what he can dear but as far as Thellie is concerned if Palin scrambles into the White House it is my inebriated opinion that Uncle Sam would be politically impaled.

Pass it on willya.

Thellie Bellie