Ptuj Election Night Weather Special
Cocks in the air. Election thunder, dry but reign of fatty derivatives to continue, leading to general erection failure.  Slovenia was spinning towards a poeti-political void...


Nation chooses according to share,
Slovene hero: a millionaire.
Followed by the Dobfather;
Fogeys, then Che Guevaras -
Desperate Dejan and God hang in there.

The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand notes that no party thought it worth offering to order a remedy for the sulphurous atmospheric cocktail of Dr Glaser's stinkytown.  

Probably none of them had his permission to say that.  

As a retch-inducing fog of deceased meat descended abruptly on drinkers Saturday night, a local responded to my disgust with the traditional pat answer.

"It's Ptuj," he explained, either helpfully or helplessly.

Oh. That's final, then.  The voter has spoken...and he expects to stay tuned for life to the hum of the chicken charnel.

Now the circus is over, it's not time for change.

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