Inhabitants of the Eurobubble know this little hairy figure very well. He’s there to drink gin, eat gravy and bash EU affairs. Many know his videos and his Twitter account which was even endorsed by EC spokesperson Olivier Bailly as “really good fun.”
Enough about what we think we know about him. Let the monster talk
Let’s start from the basis. How can we define you? even though you label yourself as a monster you don’t look that scary.
(*strokes chin fluff*) The “Monster” as a construct – for indeed it is a construct – is how we, individually or collectively, embody, explain, or warn of that which we are or should be scared of, or that which we distrust, or should distrust. It is not that which we are scared of or distrust itself. It is born from within the individual or the collective, from a need to anthropomorphise the neuroses, including fears, self-doubt and self-loathing, that grumble in the dark recesses of our lobes. The Monster is therefore a creation of and select partial reflection of the EU self, straddling its id and super-ego in such a stance as to have a vantage point from which to occasionally piss upon the ego.
Hope that clarifies matters.
In a pre-Carolingian era in a Frankish territory now part of a place called Europe. I’ve seen many European leaders come and go, and on the subject of that Charlemagne chap, should there really be a building named after him? If you think the power-grabbing hegemonic zeal of this lot is bad, you clearly weren’t around for Verden.
Let’s go with that.
Are there others of your species?
The Council of Monsters numbers many unsavoury beasts: The Westmonster, The Bundes Rat, The Stras Bug and the Kirch Bug. And the French.
To name but a few. The list goes on, but only once I’ve thought of more.
And I haven’t.
What do you do for living?
Living? This, is “living”?
Do you actually feed yourself with anything else apart from gravy and gin?
I have croissance for breakfast, and my two, feeble remaining fangs are testament to a life once spent trying to chew on Exki sandwiches. The daily diet spooned out by our political paymasters, however, is largely indigestible.
Many in the Eurobubble also wonder where you live since nobody knows your identity. Can you give us a hint?
In the bowels of the Berlaymont, missing – dearly – the Augustine sisters who once lived overhead.
In a vlog of yours, you even dared to show yourself naked. Did you get any criticism after such bold action?
It was a mistake, but we all make mistakes. I was on pretty strong pain killers at the time for a … erm … back condition … I should not have let that cloud my judgement however … and … erm … my family is standing by me at this difficult time. I just hope I can put that episode behind me and get on with doing whatever it is that I do.
How does it feel to be endorsed by spokesperson Oliver Bailly?
I accepted it with much the same grace and humility as did the EU its Nobel Peace Prize. Because it would be embarrassing to accept an honour with great braggadocio only to find those bestowing the awards turn out to have a questionable taste in comedy (*cough* PUTIN *cough*).
Have you ever met Captain Europe in person?
No. And frankly I find it a bit odd that a perfectly upstanding eurovillageois should spend his spare time – and if we’re honest a lot of work time too – adopting a fictional alter ego in order to engage in idle banter on social media. No? Hmm? HMMMmmm?
Who is your favourite Commissioner? And MEP?
As questions go, that’s up there with “what’s your favourite tofu recipe/Dan Brown novel/customs nomenclature?”
Will you vote in the next European elections?
There’s European elections coming up? Why didn’t someone say? I should act, react, refract and detract. Or something.
Is Charlemagne standing?