While Egypt is tentatively progressing on the road leading to a well-functioning democratic system as it is holding its first ever free presidential elections, Europe is holding its breath; Greece is to go to the polls for the second time in two months, putting considerable pressure on the European Dream. Democracy might be that fabulous concept, ideally to be exported across the world, but when it comes to an efficient execution of the European Project it has proved to be a darn nuisance. The Obamas and the Camerons of this world are behaving like third rate football coaches spurring on the Germans as is if it were not German money, and German money only that is being sacrificed to save the European project. Markets and world leaders alike are pretty freaked out about the current (non-)activity in the Eurozone as economies are likely to suffer (even) more and leaders feel the increasing wrath of the electorate as economic prosperity fails to materialise . Closer to home the behaviour of Hulture Secretary Jeremy C*nt’ has proved to be rather fishy as an email at a session at the Leveson enquiry revealed that JC was my no means as impartial in his dealings during the BSkyB bid pocess as he wants us to believe. Sniff, sniff. What’s that’s smell? Is that the stench of an inevitable resignation? The PM, staunchly defending is Hulture Secretarty is doing no wonders for his own credibility. Not only is his economic plan not working, with his serious lack of judgement he is taking the people he is supposed to be serving for utter fools. Dark Fairy remains very unimpressed. Yet, on a different note, after weeks, if not months of meteorological, economic and mental gloom, my spirits have been raised considerably due to the arrival of summary weather, akheeran, finally. As this is England only my fairy godmother knows how long this is going to last and since I’ve almost fully anglified I am milking it to the max. It has been almost two years since I left life at the Med- in Alexandria, Egypt- and I still very much appreciate that I am free to show some skin when temperatures are rising – and even when they’re not- without getting verbally harassed by sexually suppressed men. While I am cruising the city on my two-wheeled monster, my just-above-the-knee skirts creeps up the thighs while engaging in some serious pedal action probably flashing my knickers in the process. The Brits might be prudes, but the City of Cities is my cyclable oyster. It’s my commuter’s party and I flash when I want too.