Sharon has a great time with a horse (sorry, Kevin)
Published:
March 10, 2012 at 12:16am
Failed Labour MEP candidate but successful Brussels gravy-train-rider, Sharon Ellul Bonici, has had a lovely evening as the guest of a horse.
“Had a lovely evening at Gente the Mare, food is genuine and everything is cooked fresh,” she told her Facebook friends.
Well, not quite. The link tells us it’s the restaurant Gente di Mare. I suppose our Sharon pronounces ‘di’ and ‘the’ the same way (as do so many of us, to be fair), which accounts for the Freudian slip in that spelling.
Gente the Mare – I like it. You could build a child’s bed-time story around this horse.
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I hope she’s not a translator in Brussels.
Baxxter takes up the challenge.
Once upon a time, a little boy named Hans Peter was crossing the meadow near his grandfather’s dacha beside the little brook somewhere in eastern Slavonia. It was springtime, and the early shoots were breaking through the warm soil, full of promise and green vigour.
All of a sudden, he heard a soft whinnying somewhere in the forest on the other side of the valley. It was only a short hop across the stream, and teatime was still a few hours away, so he decided to go and explore, ever the curious boy. It could be a horse from Kommisar Kevinchuk’s stables which had wandered off and got lost. He thought of the reward he would get for returning the horse. Perhaps he’d get a whole silver ruble for himself! Then he would be able to buy a wheelchair for his invalid grandfather.
Hans Peter approached the woods and immediately his feet sank into the boggy ground. He could still hear the horse as he struggled to stay upright. Carefully he trod through the bog, his feet squelching and slipping, and reached a clearing in the forest.
There, beside an ancient oak tree, was a white horse, with pink nostrils and bright, alert eyes. He approached it softly, holding out his hand. He had often helped out in the Kommissar’s stables and knew his way around horses.
“Help me!”
Hans Peter almost screamed. The horse had spoken!
“Who are you?”, he stammered.
“I am Gente the Mare. Please help me. I escaped from the evil Kommissar’s stables this morning and got lost in the woods. I need to reach my home.”
“But you belong to Kommissar Kevinchuk! I must take you back!”
“If you help me, I will show you a great secret. It is the secret to all peace and happiness.”
“I am poor, as is my grandfather. I need money to help him. My parents, my grandmother and my sisters died in the Great Famine. My grandfather was blinded by mustard gas at Tannenberg. Why should I believe you?”
“Because I am a talking mare and I have magic powers. Let me show you, so you will believe me, little boy. Take some mud in your hand.”
That was easy enough. Hans Peter only had to dip his hand into the sodden boggy ground.
“Now taste it.”
“But this is mud!”
“Trust me, little boy. Taste it.”
Hans Peter gingerly licked his fingertips.
“It’s gravy!”, he cried.
“That’s right. I can show you this and much more. I can show you where the Great Gravy Train lies hidden.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Looking forward to the next episode.
Gentle the Mare: I find this hilarious at 5am.
Gente the Mare is not running in today’s handicap race, due to the bad weather. Those of you who have already placed your bets, kindly call Sharon for your money refund.
[Daphne – Careful, Troy. Botox Jeff might think you’re calling Sharon handicapped, or suggesting that this is a race for handicapped people or disabled horses.]
It’s not just a pronunciation issue. She didn’t even notice the spelling on the link.
Classic!
Priceless!
Din Sharon ta’ sold u nofs ghada tezisti? Iz-zibel ta’ Brussels mid-dehrea gabithu kollu maghha f’Malta.
It would be nice to know what Sharon Ellul Bonici thinks of the ECB’s role and European fiscal integration.
It would also be in order to know whether she intends to return the PL’s fold one day, where, it seems, people are overtly sensitive to a scot’s opinion. Not that her dear Joseph wouldn’t look like one.
May I suggest a slight alteration..Gentle the Mare. Now that would be my kind of bed-time story. I would leave Sharon well out of it though.
According to this morning’s Maltastar, ‘the people want a government which reminds the church that politics is not their business’.
And these would be the ones who vouch how inclusive they’ll be.
Bloggers, journalists, the PN, unions and now the church: isn’t that a good part of civil society? Are they doing this on purpose to denigrate the legitimate reaction regarding their past?
How could someone make such a silly mistake? I’d dig a hole and bury myself if I did.
She did that years ago, but still keeps digging.
Daphne. Do a favour to a lot of people. Get a life! Please… Thank you.
Muscat are you there?
Sharon writes of mares but she is an ass. She is on the payroll of the very institutions to which she sought to bar Malta’s membership. In turn this means that anyone who thinks she is of any political significance – that confused dimwit of Norman Lowell included – is a donkey.
Joseph you can get a life yourself! Leave Daphne alone – we need someone to monitor the idiots who unabashedly parade their ignorance in the Maltese public sphere.