DAYS 295 – 347: A Message from The Queen

On the surface, it may seem I have suffered from a severe case of writer’s block for more than fifty days; my lengthy absence from the blogging scene has brought on a tidal wave of emails, most of which are questioning my existence on Mother Earth.  I am alive!

I’ve thrown myself into a sea of paperwork.  I’m working feverishly to rid myself of any excess administrative work as I enter the final phase of rehearsals, deadlines, expressive outbursts and rivers of caffeine… The theatrical production of “74” is scheduled to premiere in Cyprus on the 19^th February 2014.

I kick-started the new year under the mystical chimes of Big Ben.  New Year’s Eve in London is certainly the most effective way to celebrate the riddance of what was, the most disastrous year in the history of Cyprus.  2014 has armed me against all negativity, despite the fact that my recent battle of the bulge saw me defeated through the bouroughs of London’s gourmet street markets.  My daily routine would start off with a respectable serving of brown toast and low-fat cheese spread. Within two hours, I would find myself queuing up for a waffle or crepe, dunked in a bottle of hazelnut chocolate spread, and then heading off to the pie and pastry stand for another mid-morning fiesta. No comment.

I’m back on a low-calorie diet of shakes and soups.  I’m hoping my appearance on stage will resemble the part of a distraught soldier in my war drama, but I’m feeling more like an ogre these days; hopefully the audience won’t mistake my appearance with Shrek’s.

On a lighter note, I stumbled across a humorous ‘message’ from The Queen, and I thought I would share it with you: (I hope my American friends will forgive me…)

A MESSAGE FROM THE QUEEN

To the citizens of the United States of America from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

In light of your failure in recent years to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. (You should look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary.)

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except North Dakota, which she does not fancy).

Your new Prime Minister, David Cameron, will appoint a Governor for America without the need for further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour,' 'favour,' 'labour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix '-ize' will be replaced by the suffix '-ise.' Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up 'vocabulary').

2. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as ''like' and 'you know' is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as U.S. English. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take into account the reinstated letter 'u'' and the elimination of '-ize.'

3. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.

4. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not quite ready to be independent. Guns should only be used for shooting grouse. If you can't sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you're not ready to shoot grouse.

5. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. Although a permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

6. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left side with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

7. The former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline) of roughly $10/US gallon. Get used to it.

8. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.

9. The cold, tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. South African beer is also acceptable, as they are pound for pound the greatest sporting nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer. They are also part of the British Commonwealth - see what it did for them. American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.

10. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie Macdowell attempt English dialect in Four Weddings and a Funeral was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.

11. You will cease playing American football. There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies).

12. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the South Africans first to take the sting out of their deliveries.

13.. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.

14. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).

15. Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 p.m. with proper cups, with saucers, and never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; plus strawberries (with cream) when in season.

God Save the Queen!

PS: Only share this with friends who have a good sense of humour (NOT humor)!

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis has written, and will be directing the riveting war drama “74”, based on the 1974 Turkish invasion of Cyprus. He is also the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 274 – 294: On and Off!

After a lengthy absence from the blogging scene, I have finally re-entered society with an unusually positive outlook on life.  I’m not implying that I have miraculously won the lottery, although an injection of cash into my drought-stricken bank account would certainly limit the repetitive calls from my conceited bank manager, but my sudden weight loss has steered the ship of optimism towards that blinking light at the end of the tunnel.

My love for public speaking has found a new home: a weekday radio slot that allows me to express my thoughts on the opulent and promiscuous lives of the pop stars, my envy towards Maroon 5’s Adam Levine for being voted People Magazine’s “sexiest man alive,” and an opportunity to share my new sense of cheerfulness with the rest of the world.  On a global scale, one can also acquire a taste of my morning boost by tuning in through the miraculous wonders of the world-wide-web.

After twelve years of social confinement, the town of Pafos has finally unveiled a new landmark that boasts beamingly as “the largest mall on the island of Cyprus.”  I’m feeling a great sense of pride knowing that the name and logo decorating the walls of this shopping mecca, was conceived and designed by yours truly. Thank you very much.

The upside of a new shopping centre in the hub of the tourist district, allows those visiting our island to savour our evolving westernisation – our thirst for modernisation in our quaint, traditional world.  On the downside, this new mammoth will become the honeycomb for the swarm of masses, while unfortunately, the rest of the town unwillingly reverts to dormancy.  Thankfully, our indolent mayor has decided to revive the old ‘agora’ through a series of belated activities, some of which include a rusty Thomas-the-train replica, choo-chooing around the streets of the ancient town while the odd tourist samples a small taste of shoujouko. Guess who I’ll be voting for in the next round of elections?

My upcoming production “74” has secured an enormous following from the media, with a stamp of approval from the First Lady of Cyprus and a plethora of other mayors and political figures from Cyprus and abroad.  This prestigious endorsement acknowledges the hard work and sacrifices made by an exceptional team of individuals, some of which I remain forever indebted to. 

One of the actors commented on Facebook that “it takes a village” to produce a successful show, and “thankfully, there is a fantastic one behind this production.”

Our first photo shoot with the leading ladies of “74”, kick-started a great campaign on Facebook, attracting hundreds of ‘likes’ to the page.  It seems that the majority of those commenting on our timeline share our hopes for a ‘united’ Cyprus – a thirst for those countless refugees, who abandoned their homes in a flight for survival on that infamous summer morning of 1974, to finally return home.  Our aim for this production is to create global awareness of the “Cyprus Problem” and to highlight the division of our island after forty years of Turkish occupation.

Politics aside, tomorrow evening welcomes the premier of an award-winning film to the shores of Aphrodite. Papadopoulos and Sons, written and directed by Marcus Markou, follows the story of a self-made millionaire who reluctantly reunites with his estranged freewheeling brother, after his his ruin in the latest banking crisis, to re-open an abandoned fish and chip shop they shared in their youth.  I’m finding it hard to contain my excitement, as this event will allow me the opportunity to reunite with an exceptional friend, who emigrated back to the United Kingdom not long ago.

As the day progresses, I am finding that the mountain of pending items on my “to do” list are making it difficult for me to reach the peak.  Modern Family  has released a new episode, and the thought of abandoning my ongoing commitments to a quiet moment on the couch seems tempting.  My existent battle of the bulge might not be coming to an end yet, but my sources reveal that if I keep downing my soups and shakes, I will grace next year’s cover of People magazine as “the sexiest man alive.” Eat your heart out Adam Levine; two can play at that game.

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis has written, and will be directing the riveting war drama “74”, based on the 1974 Turkish invasion of Cyprus. He is also the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 258 – 273: Letter to Ellen

Dear Ellen,

My name is Paul Lambis and I am writing to you from the island of Cyprus, Europe.  Although we are unable to follow your show on any one of our local networks, I remain indebted to your website and YOUTUBE channel which highlight the wonderful things you do.  Your humility and warmth, combined with your extraordinary talent and humour are uplifting; it is during these trying times that one appreciates the importance of laughter.

I was born in Johannesburg, South Africa and relocated to Cyprus twelve years ago.  Since my arrival on the island, I have been working as a freelance writer for several local publications, and have written and produced my own theatrical plays.  In 2008, I was involved in a near-fatal car accident, which confined me to my bed for six months.  The doctors were unable to offer me any hope of walking, but my positive attitude trumped them in the end.  After an intense eighteen months of physiotherapy, I was able to stand on my own two feet, and face the world with an optimistic outlook on life. 

I was inspired to put pen-to-paper, and published my novel – an autobiography detailing my hilarious journey of contrasts, sharing my experiences and the healing powers of laughter.  What emerged from the book was a quote with which I have founded my beliefs on: “If you don’t laugh at life, life will laugh at you.”

In March this year, the financial crisis plagued the island of Cyprus, to the extent that thousands were left jobless, and those with work were forced to accept large pay cuts.  One of the sectors affected by this economic recession was the Performing Arts.  Despite our efforts to keep this industry alive, we are constantly confronted with closed doors, and often resort to scrounging outside large corporations for a small contribution.  It seems that the economic downturn has blindfolded most people from the importance of supporting the Arts.  If only people could see the significance of our industry, the professionalism and talent of its people, and what a difference theatre could make to enrich one’s own outlook on the world.  Perhaps my dream of a ‘Theatre Utopia’ might seem far-fetched, but I believe in making a difference, and I hope to be able to establish a financially-independent organisation in the near-future, that will support, provide work, encourage and expose the talent that Cyprus has to offer.

Thank you for making us laugh, and for supporting us in your own unique way.

Warm regards,

Paul Lambis

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis has written, and will be directing the riveting war drama “74”, based on the 1974 Turkish invasion of Cyprus. He is also the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 243 – 257: A Powerful Production

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,

visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 225 – 242: Through the Director’s Eyes

As a director, one of the most daunting tasks is having to turn away a plethora of talented actors after an intense month of auditions.  When the casting call announcement was posted on the various social media sites, a flood of resumes surfaced on my desk – each one vying for a role in my upcoming war drama “74”.

As each potential candidate took to the stage, immersing themselves in their respective role, my assistant director and I realised that the proficient level of acting in Cyprus would not make the elimination process any easier.  My lengthy absence from blogging was largely due to the haunting hours spent in an enclosed part of my home, fighting through the copious evaluation forms submitted by my team of professionals.

And, after meticulous deliberation, the results were posted on Facebook amidst the jubilant cheers of the selected, and the disappointing cries of the precluded.  The marketing campaign had officially begun.

The weeks that followed saw a tide of professional emails flooding my inbox – the majority of which thanked me for the experience, and the opportunity given to them to audition for the production.  A small group of actors chose to voice their displeasure, not realising that such a response would categorise them as “avoidable”.  The level of immaturity, which is often revealed by the so-called “bad-sportsmanship”, was evident through the hidden innuendos concealed between the sentences; metaphorical figures of speech used to reveal their frustration of not being selected. 

But why should one care?  Surely Julia Roberts doesn’t call the director and blast him for his choice of another leading lady?  The acting game can easily be compared to a beauty pageant: only one winner can take the crown.

Perhaps one could ease the laws on a society which is, in my opinion, intimate? I think so; c'est la vie.

The creative juices are ripe.  I have just completed the script for a royal comedy titled “Divorced, Beheaded, Died… Divorced, Beheaded, Survived”. Based on the illustrious life of King Henry VIII, this royal comedy focuses on the Tudor king's royal appetite for the opposite sex, and the women who found themselves tangled in his lustful quest.

Prior to my explicit interpretation of Henry’s sex life, I will be directing a bio-drama based on the life of Aristotle Onassis.  Inspired by the true story of the relationships between the Promethean shipping magnate, his first wife Tina, his lover Maria Callas and second wife Jackie Kennedy, this is an extraordinary account of one man's voracious appetite for sex, money and power – how those with great wealth and political influence live their lives detached from the moral code and realities of ordinary mortals.

I’m almost certain that one would consider me a hypocrite.  I’ve babbled on about the silly innuendos implied by the agitated actors in their emails, but my overtones of sex are quite apparent in the scripts for my forthcoming dramas.  One might suggest a hint of “Fifty Shades of Grey”, but I don’t foresee any explicitly erotic scenes featuring elements of sexual practices involving bondage/discipline, dominance/submission, and sadism/masochism.  Although, King Henry VIII’s marital indecisiveness could leave one thinking otherwise.  I’ll have to dwell on those thoughts for a while.  I’m not implying any sexual deprivation, but it’s reassuring knowing that the audience will observe everything through my eyes…

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 219 – 224: “What you see, is what you get.”

My Facebook timeline this morning declares that my start to the day was cataclysmic. I’m not implying that a tornado whip-lashed my car to the other side of the island, but I carelessly forgot my mobile phone on the charger; communication with the outside world has now come to an unexpected halt.

I spent the first part of the day bombarding the social media sites in order to fill the void, but the fact remains that an absent phone is as torturous as being caught publicly with your pants down.  One only realises how reliant one is to this indispensable form of communication.  I’m sitting on a bed of thorns, wondering if my phone has beeped without my knowing, humming its technical tunes of Facebook and inbox alerts.  What’s even more frustrating is that I am trying to locate the numbers of two talented individuals who have agreed to work with me on my upcoming production of “74”; my absence is suggesting a hint of unprofessionalism.

The drive to school this morning had me lecturing my son, yet again, on the principles of healthy eating.  His obsession for an Adonis figure has him skipping meals and submitting to an intense workout session of cardio exercises in his bedroom.  I’m convinced that beneath his drive of image consciousness, lies an interest in the form of a female classmate.  Although my son has never openly confessed his motives, the signs of infatuation are evident from the hearts squiggled on random pieces of paper scattered throughout the house, or the late-night Skype calls which require bedroom doors closed, and a lengthy pre-session of hair styling.

The consequences of starvation were addressed briefly as I swerved the car into one of the school’s parking bays. 

“Starvation will only encourage weight-gain,” I remarked as I pointed towards the permanent cushion of flab surrounding my waist.  Admittedly, the slogan on my briefcase screaming “I beat anorexia” did not encourage my argument, and I suggested that his [my son’s] mother would be more qualified to answer any concerns relating to exercise and nutrition.

And then, in a moment of father-son bliss, the boomerang question clouted me across the face, leaving me thoughtful and bewildered.

“Is mom happy with the way you look?”

My arrogance intervened as I defended by physique by saying, “What she sees is what she gets!” 

I bid my son farewell, and spent the next few minutes absorbed in a cloud of self-judgement. 

I've always believed that one should lead by example.  I’ve often quoted these scripted words from the bible to the squad of degenerates who manage the workplace.  My maturity should force me to take a stance, for once in my life, and bolt those urges of emotional eating.  But that infamous group of people trapped within my body are teaming up for their daily protest.  I’m feeling the urge to call my psychologist and ask for advice, but the reality lies with my infuriating mobile phone, held back by a wire in a socket at home.

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 212 – 218: Conspiracy Theories

These are the golden days for conspiracy theorists. If you believed your government was spying on you, Edward Snowden’s revelations have shown you’re probably right. WikiLeaks and Bradley Manning laid bare a world in which the authorities routinely do one thing and say another. You may be paranoid, but they’re still out to get you — or at least to detain you at Heathrow Airport for questioning.

Now, just a week after the 16 years since a Mercedes plowed into a pillar in the Pont de l’Alma tunnel on August 31, 1997, depriving Britain of her People’s Princess and the young royals William and Harry of their mother, along comes a fresh allegation in the story that has generated more conspiracy theories than any other.

Scotland Yard announced that it is “scoping” new information about the Paris car crash that killed Diana, Princess of Wales and patron saint of conspiracy theorists. The claim surfaced during the trial of a member of Britain’s elite and secretive SAS army regiment; according to some reports, the estranged in-laws of a key witness told the military police that the witness had alleged SAS involvement in Diana’s death.

The circumstances of that death, though, have been exhaustively investigated, by the authorities in France and the U.K., most recently in the 90-day inquest at London’s Royal Courts of Justice that reached the conclusion in April 2008 that the Princess and her boyfriend Dodi Fayed had been “unlawfully killed.” The verdict highlighted the “gross negligence” of the driver Henri Paul, who died at the wheel and was found to have blood alcohol three times above the French legal limit, and of the paparazzi, whose reckless pursuit of the couple sparked the high-speed chase that ended in tragedy.

A quick internet search reveals a plethora of sites devoted to “exposing” Diana’s murder. A large and vociferous online community remains convinced, despite evidence to the contrary presented to the inquest, that the Queen’s former daughter-in-law was pregnant with Fayed’s child, provoking nebulous rings of vested interest at the heart of the British establishment into ordering her assassination to protect the monarchy. The more lurid versions of the tale claim the crash itself never happened (the Mercedes was dented in a car crusher; the Princess hijacked in the tunnel, forced into a vehicle masquerading as an ambulance and slaughtered). A surprisingly persistent meme depicts Diana as the victim of giant shape-shifting lizards that secretly control Britain. There are queries raised too about how and when a white Fiat Uno came into contact with the Mercedes, leaving paint traces, or whether Paul’s blood toxicology tallies with what is known of his last movements and usual habits, or why Diana’s seat belt was found not to work.

These queries seem sensible enough, and if we’ve learned anything from the whistle-blowers, hackers and leakers, it’s that the authorities don’t always tell the truth. But we knew that already. We may be in greater danger of forgetting that the authorities often do tell the truth too. Sometimes things are exactly as they seem: President Obama was born in Hawaii and Diana died in an accident, a victim not of unseen malefactors but of a collision between her desire for a private life and public fascination with her private life.

Scotland Yard — itself seeking to restore public trust after the twin blows of the News Corp phone-hacking scandal and the Jimmy Savile sex-abuse revelations revealed its tendency to protect the establishment rather than question it — has no choice but to evaluate the information it has received. To fail to do so would spark new conspiracies. Yet to divert more taxpayer money into a new inquiry also risks criticism. Hence the Yard’s carefully worded statement, which made clear: “This is not a reinvestigation.” Die-hard Diana conspiracists will be disappointed. They will always be disappointed.

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com