The story so far: As part of a European Union Inclusivity Initiative, British Prime Minister David Cameron and the GLB (Greatest Living Bulgarian) have swapped jobs.
David Cameron writes
For the love of Boris will someone tell me what this word chalga means. My cocktail party was completely ruined by beardy theatre folk and otherwise hot ballet babes accusing me of orchestrating the chalgafication of Bulgarian society. Someone suggested that I was more interested in silicon enhanced tits than the Nessebur sand-dunes. Did we survive the Turkish yoke, Fascism and Communism to be smothered by boobs and arses?
Scandals in Bulgaria are like the number 11 bus. You wait and wait and then three of them turn up at once. You can be sitting by the steamy indoor pool in the Boyana residence for weeks, thinking that being in charge of Bulgaria is a doddle,- just like Boyko said it would be and then bang, bulldozers are demolishing sand-dunes in historic Nesebur, there’s a referendum on nuclear energy that’s worded in a way that no-one understands and your finance ministry has awarded a massive EU grant to a company called Piner that plays folk music on two TV stations.
Now I quite like folk music. I remember quite fancying Maddy Prior, before I met Sam. And wasn’t Bulgarian folk music very much in vogue in the eighties? I can’t get enough of Kate Bush. So I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.
Reluctantly I consult my shadowy minder, Tsvetan. He looks apologetic, mutters something about Bulgaria’s pride and offers me his ipod. I give it a listen and I get warbling ballad after ballad that would get 5 points on a Eurovision night. “Is this chalga?” I demand. “No it’s Vesselin Marinov.” “So what is chalga?” But he’s done one of his vanishing tricks.
I phone up Boyko. He gives me his dirty laugh. “You’re on your own there, Dave!” He does offer me an address of a nice matska who’ll teach me a dance called kyuchek. Very clean, very reasonable, very discreet. I say “No way Boyko, learning the horo was bad enough”
He changes the subject to Europe. “Why are your MPs getting in such a lather? The EU normally sends me to sleep.” I know Boyko. I saw the picture of you at the Nobel ceremony. His final words are: “Don’t worry about referenda Dave. I know a way of wording them so that nothing changes. Europe is a big pie.”
Europe is a big pie. Typical! I must remember to check Boyko’s waistline against Ken Clarke’s when I get back.
Meanwhile the chalga debate is getting hotter. My minister of culture made a comparison with rap. Gangsters, sex, drugs. But as he points out a really vital part of Bulgaria’s economy and a driver for ethnic integration. I remember chatting with Prince Charles about rap. He always wears earplugs when he visits one of his youth projects. I say it’s a shame black people didn’t stick with blues and jazz. He shrugs and says he’s always liked Elgar.
On the advice of my new media expert a Mr Trifonov, I consulted two experts in the field. But Aziz and Martin Karbovski didn’t hit it off. They hit each other. It ended up with them both grappling on the floor, calling each other pederasts. Mr Trifonov suggested they should be stripped to their underpants, greased and locked in a telephone box together. It would make great TV.
Talking about TV spectacle, I’ve just seen some bloke in a shiny suit trying to shoot Ahmed Dogan. It just goes to show the need for strict dress code rules at party conferences.
