Vile-erie Trierweiler has written a book and so far made a million off it
Isn’t English the most wonderful language? It has nuanced words to suit every situation, the choice of one word over another carrying waves of meaning in itself.
Look at this standfirst in The Telegraph: President Hollande’s jilted ex-girlfriend…
And straight away, you know what they (and most other people) think about her. No ‘former lover’, no ‘ex partner’, no ‘erstwhile consort’.
Jilted ex-girlfriend.
Why have people reacted with such contempt towards her, and why was there not one jot of sympathy when she was humiliated in such a nightmarish manner before the eyes of the salivating world press?
I think it’s because she quite transparently tried to pass off (possibly even to herself) naked, rabid, ‘nobody and nothing will stand in my way’ ruthless personal ambition as “love”.
Had the physically nondescript and completely charmless Hollande, with a companion of decades and several children, been an office clerk, she would have sneered at any suggestion of a date. She would certainly never have pursued him hell for leather.
And when she ended up in hospital with shock after discovering through a newspaper that he had been visiting an actress and didn’t want her around the palace any longer, you sort of instinctively knew that the shock wasn’t because he didn’t love her any more (did he ever?) but because her plans for high-flying world domination were over and it had suddenly dawned on her that what she had built was a house of cards.
But I think what really did for her, with Hollande, the French public and probably the sub at The Telegraph, was her naked and very public hatred (mentioned in The Telegraph story, in fact) for Segolene Royale, the mother of Hollande’s children, whose relationship of decades’ standing she systematically targetted until it had come undone to what she thought would be her immense benefit. Having achieved that end, she then failed to be magnanimous in victory and behaved as though it was Royale who had done her harm rather than the other way round.
Now we discover that throughout her relationship with Hollande she kept “notes in a little black book” about their relationship. For what – as insurance? It’s certainly paid off financially, but it also means that she can wave goodbye to the thought of ever having another relationship again. She faces a future as an aging fag-hag, warmed by the money made off her book.
Well, I don’t like her either.
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http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/france/11139010/Valerie-Trierweiler-celebrates-1m-memoir.html
There’s a review of Trierweiler’s “Merci Pour Ce Moment” in the TLS of 26 September.
Here’s an excerpt:
“Much of this is of course rather banal, even if it ironically vindicates Hollande’s claims about his ‘normality’. But the real strength of the book lies in its subtle fusion of the personal and the political, with Trierweiler drawing on her experiences to paint an unflattering portrait of French elites … Equally revealing is her exploitation of the populist theme that French political elites care little about the lives of their compatriots … Here is where the book lands its heaviest blows. It shows a socialist elite lacking in strategic direction, and driven not by principle or even ambition, but merely by the compulsion to exercise and retain power.”
[Daphne – Funny how she began to disapprove of all that when she could no longer be part of it…]
The owl of Minerva flies at dusk.
French socialists sound rather like our very own.
Martin Scicluna could do the same.
Wasn’t aware he could bitch.
Indeed. That article of his in The Times of Malta was an astoundingly bitchy excuse to justify his total lack of foresight (and, it seems, good manners and basic respect for others’ validated opinions).
And frankly, his youth and lack of first-hand experience of Labour in government is no excuse (as one commentator tried to justify beneath Ms Caruana Galizia’s commentary on the matter). I’m most probably younger than Scicluna is, and I could clearly see what was coming thanks to some proper education on context.
[Daphne – HIS YOUTH? Where did you get the idea that Martin Scicluna is young? He’s 80, for heaven’s sake.]
According to the commentator, apparently he’s “like many young people”.
Surprising, I know, but I guess that’s part of the farcical thought process that went into the original comment.
He’s excellent at it especially when writing about church matters.
Scicluna is a one-eyed Mintoffian, grateful to Mintoff for not taking his other eye out.
So are all suldati ta l-azzar, loyal to the party that feeds them like chickens in a farm.
“Isn’t English the most wonderful language? ” It indeed is and it portrays to an incredibly accurate degree how an Englishman thinks.
It is precisely for this reason that most Maltese can never fully understand all the shades of a word. Hence, the wrong use of the word “ambitious”, for example, and a host of many others.
As to the main theme of this blog post, I really do not understand why women go for ‘high-flying’ men. I cannot understand how a woman might sink so low. If she wants to fly high, she should be able to do so on her own steam and not on the back of some man who she picked out from the bed of another woman.
“It is precisely for this reason that most Maltese can never fully understand all the shades of a word. Hence, the wrong use of the word “ambitious”, for example, and a host of many others.”
This is precisely why, whilst in favour of the general quality of their Maltese expression in the Nazzjon, I firmly believe that the Nationalist Party needs to shift all internal communication – as a minimum – to English.
There are concepts in English, that simply don’t have legs in Maltese.
A mental preparation in English is more disciplined, structured and able to constantly pick at those nuances.
Not only pick at, recognise and name, but deal with them before they’re passé.
The difference in expectations is mainly underlined by the sluggish bearing of the thinking process.
There is a mis-match in alignment, where, on the other hand, Joseph Muscat has been trained in the values of synchronicity.
Where vulgarity and crassness isn’t a prime mover, language has become a barrier.