Just looking at him is enough to tell you he's trouble. I mean, the man has a comb-over, for God's sake. Not to mention the moustache. Like a rattlesnake, he's a walking (well, slithering) warning to anyone who sets eyes on him.
Can anyone beat this guy for a weaselly appearance? Who's your favourite rat-person? Stick your nominees in the comments. Maybe by tomorrow I'll be able to post pictures again and we can have a rogue's gallery of them...
Update! Suddenly, we can post pictures again. WooHoo! And here's that pic of Lukashenko. Perhaps we were better off without.
18 comments:
He looks like a bad guy from Kojak. Ill take him over Tony any day just for his retro cool.
Ivan, puh-leaze. Lukashenko is merely a sad local rodent in comparison to that arch-weasel feeding on nuts and roast babies in Kremlin. I hope that motherfucker drops dead while delivering one of his retarded speeches.
(Um...your kids don't read this blog, do they? We don't want them to learn urban slang before high-school).
Well, I see your point there, Rob. He's nothing if not retro. More '40s than '70s, tho'. Perhaps we can get Kojak to stick his lollipop up his ass?
And Des, fear not, my kids're too young to be reading blogs. In any case they already swear like troopers, although only in Hungarian, which is singularly well-adapted for the purpose. Teaching them English swearwords now would be like giving Mozart a Hammond Organ...
That is quite the most magnificent comb-over I've seen all morning. It takes a real man to wear a 'do' like that - bet he's a tiger between the sheets. And that moustache! Rrrrraarrrr.
For my pennies, I'm at the same casino as Des. The weasel Putin out-le Carres John le Carre, for a chilling impression of post Cold War Russian menace. In fact, if you put him in a le Carre novel, everyone would think the author was drying up and having to resort to charicature and cliche.
He's all wiry in a kind of bleached-out, sneaky, feral way. (Shiver) He looks like he was born to creep about the corridors of the KGB.
Justin Timberlake gets my vote, or Britney's current squeeze who looks just like him and whose name I forget.
Footsie, the fellow's name is Kevin Federline, or K-Fed, for those in the know. He's weaselly alright, but his squirelly antics only threaten a white trash family whose daughter somehow struck gold. The rest of the world is still pretty much unharmed (well, if one ignores his painful attempts at music).
I wish I could say the same about that cold, slimy serpent Putin.
Ivan, sometimes ignorance IS bliss. It's a good thing if you lack a command of Hungarian; those Huns have some of the most atrocious swearwords in the northern hemisphere. You'd be disgusted by your kids forever.
Putin seems to be emerging as the crowd's favourite. No wonder he and Lucky Luka are neighbours - talk about birds of a feather.
Footie, we can't take Justin Timberlake. You can't do a fake bake and still qualify as weaselly. Odious and superficial, yes, even creepy - but weaselly is off the menu, I'm afraid...
Alas, Des, I understand Hungarian swearwords very well indeed. I've spent enough time in Budapest traffic with the wife to hear every possible permutation many times over.
How comes everybody knows Hungarian swear-words? Can you tell me one? I know a Hungarian, as it happens. It might be fun to swear at him.
The look on his face shows weakness. It's the look of a big-game hunter who's run out of ammo and is hoping the lion won't charge. If NATO invaded he'd piss his pants.
Sam: you could try 'Az isten lova basszna meg', one of their more bizarre coinages. It means something like 'may God's horse fuck you!' Or, if you're worried about blasphemy, try 'Basszon szájba a veresseggü ördög!'--'May a red-assed devil fuck you.'
Am I too wide of the mark, Ivan? Mind, I have no knowledge of Fino-Ugric idioms. But my brother did military service with a couple Hungarians. He says it was a unique learning experience.
In exchange for this free linguistic consultation, Sam will have to tell us in great detail how her friend reacted to the multicultural encounter Sam envisages.
Cheers, Des! Will practice and be swearing at the Hungarian in question next Sunday at a luncheon-type gathering. I will certainly detail the response.
Ivan, I trust you occasionally speak Hungarian at home, just to make sure the kids know they and their mother can't slip anything past you. It works for me with "Krautisch."
As far weasels, Putin is good now that the former president of the Ukraine is out. Chirac isn't a bad choice either.
Cheers.
Sam, Des, I'm impressed by your lively linguistic exchanges. Good to see the internet being used for such sound educational purposes - so much so that there will be a follow-up tomorrow :)
GB - I think you're right. Cowardice and snivelling behind a bigger bully when threatened are the very hallmarks of weaselry, which is surely a little hard on actual weasels. I mean, the real things are sneaky, for sure, but they're no cowards.
And Randall, can't fault you for selecting Chirac as a poster boy for weaselly politicians, but alas he doesn't look like a weasel. He just looks so damned French. Makes my knuckles itch, so it does.
Yes I have, and had my pockets thoroughly ransacked by the ubiquitous thieving gypsy bastards as a result. Fortunately I was an English teacher at the time, so after extracting nothing but three pieces of chalk and a scribbled list of phrasal verbs they gave up in disgust and returned to their glue-sniffing.
Don't tell me you met your wife in an English class! Aw, that is so romantic!... But well done, Ivan. It's a strategy that hardly ever fails. I met some of my hottest girlfriends in language courses. Eheu, fugaces, as the Latins would put it.
Those glue-sniffing rascals may have been from across the border. Bucharest used to be full of'em. I guess they must have better linguistic skills than me, though, if they survive in Budapest. That city was entirely opaque to me, as I have no Hungarian. I felt more at home in Liverpool, strangely.
The gypsies would probably have felt more at home in Liverpool than you, Des, it being full of robdogs already. Nyiregyhaza-on-Sea, as we old Budapest hands called it.
Douglas Adams ain't seen nothing yet. He should have taken a trip across the Greater Levant, instead of frolicking through distant gallaxies and Magellanic Clouds. Much more instructive, I contend. Cheaper, too.
I'm not sure about which way of studying languages is better. I used to learn them by ear, much like Gypsy folk artists learn their tunes. When I got into classics, a bunch of Teutonic professors instilled the fear of God and historical morphology in me, so I guess now I'm beyond redemption. But thanks for the tip, though.
As to the present adventures of the Thracians, I'm pretty much like Ivan feels towards Manchester: I'd love to go back, only for the joy of leaving it again.
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