Belgium for beginners
I do not know if you follow Belgian politics closely, I hope not, because that does not make you happy.
As you may know, we have six governments: the federal, the Flemish, the Walloon, the Brussels ones of the Dutch-speaking community and those of the French-speaking community.
And then we would have forgotten about the German-speaking community. But they've fitted a sleeve to that. Surrealism is beautiful, but we have to stay serious.
Six governments, that is six prime ministers, ministers, secretaries of state, cabinets, etc.
Imagine, I'm just saying, “A pandemic, with six health ministers from different political minds, who have to decide together.
The heaviest of the six, (Maggie De Block ,250kg) decided just before the outbreak to destroy our strategic stock of 60 million mouth masks. Whoops mistake.
Then quickly called the Chinese for new ones. It was found on arrival that the cargo did not meet the Belgian standards. Answer from the Chinese: “Foelllt, no maskells meell.”
Unless we pay ten times and then it wasn't sure when they could be delivered, because meanwhile the whole world wanted mouth masks.
That's why our six ministers sang in choir and full chest (think Maggie de Block) of: “Mouth masks are totally pointless in Belgium!”
Now, 10,000 dead later, mouth masks are useful, necessary and mandatory. Progressive insight they call it.
The fairytale government...
Long, long ago (almost 500 days) the Belgians went for election. Flanders voted massively right, Wallonia massively left.
In a normal democracy, such a thing would have happened quickly; the two winners of the elections also the country's largest parties form a government.
Not here. Here, the losers tangle together and the seven smallest parties form a government. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. It will take a long time.
No, wait. Let me start again: Belgium does not exist. This draft hole on the North Sea has been deformed from two completely different countries with approximately in the middle of the heart attack Brussels.
For a long time, a long time ago, 1830, the inhabitants of Brussels took the Dutch outside. At least that's what our history books say. I think the sober Dutchmen have been secretly moused off because they became horndol of those crazy people in Brussels. “The Mute of Portici”, who still believes that fairy tale?
So we're independent.
In the north the Dutch-speaking Flanders, south of the language border the French-speaking Wallonia. And yes, a small piece of German-speaking Belgium, at the time taken from 'Den Germans' but we forget that for convenience.
The Dutch-speaking Brussels people (yes who exist) were expected to choose Flanders and the French-speaking Brussels residents for Wallonia. But they refuse it haughtily and say, “The late zen Broekselairs”.
Brussels, the capital of Europe, the centre of NATO, the navel of the world. Did I mention that this is where surrealism originated?
In fact, Brussels is the royal family with her entourage, but more on that later.
Now, why can't the two greatest parties of this kingdom go through the same door?
Why does the Flemish majority opt for the NVA of Bart De Wever, who wants Flanders independent and why does Wallonia choose the socialists of Paul Magnette who do not want to solve Flanders?
Simple: Flanders accounts for 70% of the tax revenue and Wallonia accounts for 70% of the tax expenditure; someone has to do it.
And that would not be so bad if our pennies were to benefit the poor Walloons, but that is by no means the case. The fortunes are disappearing in the bottomless tax havens of big business.
Speaking of big capital, since yesterday, we have joined a Royal Highness. Hip, Hip, Hooray! Princess Delphine.
Not that our Flup and Mathilleke secretly, while everyone was watching the government negotiations, have grown a sprout. No, that's how it is done in a normal dynasty.
Here we go again:
Very, very long ago, about five decades, our old King Albert had an affair with a Belgian countess. Noblesse oblige, she got pregnant.
Yes, we still have two kings and two queens, and when Fabiola was alive, three at once, and all get a dotation that poor Trump is jealous of.
But... Onzen Albert never acknowledged his daughter. His wife didn't let us, Paola. The fact that she also kept numerous lovers in it is irrelevant.
One of her ex-lovers, the Belgian Italian singer Adamo even wrote a song about it: 'Dolce Paola' a hit single in the sixties. Google is my witnesses.
Delphine, as stubborn as her father, did not leave it at this and subpoenaed the old king to court.
He refused to stand his royal DNA in appeal and appeal until he received a penalty payment on his leg. Because he liked his pennies rather than his seed, he agreed to give up DNA.
Result: The court has decided that Delphine may now call himself 'Princess Delphine of Saxe-Coburg'. Which means as much as Delphine of the Skeeffuker, actually.
