The word “Chutzpah” may have its origins in Yiddish, but it is defined these days not by Jews . . . but by our lovely Arab cousins.
At the opening of the Arab League summit in Doha, yesterday, Syrian President Bashar al-Assad lamented the Arabs’ lack of a “real partner in the peace process”. With the new government of the right-wing “Bibi” Netanyahu being sworn-in today, Assad is apparently unhappy with the outcome of Israel’s recent elections.
Well, sorry, Ass’ me old mate. That’s democracy for you. Of course, you wouldn’t know . . . having received 97.99% of the votes in the “referendum” between you and yourself, after your lovely old man snuffed it, back in 2000.
Where do these f*cking Arabs get the nerve . . . ?!
And what exactly did Assad have to do to get the top job (and for life)? According to Wikipedia, until becoming President, “his only political role was as head of the Syrian Computer Society.” Wow! Perhaps at school, in Damascus, he even ran the tuck shop.
Despite his early promises of liberalisation, Syrians are no freer today than they were under his power-mad dad, Hafez. And the country has even deeper links with international terror.
I tried explaining to my drinking (and drooling) buddy, in a Tel Aviv bar last night, why it is that I have always found Bashar al-Assad to be so particularly repugnant, even more so than his considerably repugnant mates, Ahmadinejad and Nasrallah. The latter two, whilst undoubtedly vile, at least have the familiarity of the religious fanatic.
But, even before he opens his mouth, there is just something about Bashar – perhaps those horribly cold eyes, or his uncanny resemblance to Blackadder Goes Forth‘s Captain Darling (right) – that renders irrelevant his British education, smooth suits, and (very) doable missus.
In fact, for Israel to deliver the strategic Golan Heights to the Ass’ Man would be akin to putting a serial paedophile in charge of a kiddies’ paddling pool.
(Incidentally, Ass’, who did the other 2.01% vote for?!)