By Arnold Jansen op de Haar

‘It’s all Greek to me,’ wrote William Shakespeare, as long ago as 1599, in Julius Caesar. When, on Sunday, Europe developed a breach of trust over Greece, it made me think of an expression from Virgil that has been incorporated into the English language: ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.’ (A reference to the Trojan Horse.)

And we haven’t even mentioned the ‘Greek principles’ that underpin the work of a major Dutch author. To say nothing about the ‘stage door’ featured in his work, which is related to these ‘Greek principles’. Because, during the past few weeks, there was a lot of traffic going through the stage door: finance minister Yanis Varoufakis disappeared from the stage, Euclid Tsakalotos made an appearance. (Are you still with me?)

The point of the Greek referendum is beyond me. Even the Greeks themselves agree on this. And we had the wonderful tirade from Guy Verhofstadt in the European Parliament. Well, you needed subtitles even though he was speaking in English, but Europhile Guy was a bit cross with the Greeks.

This suddenly reminded me of quite a kind teacher at school who, one day, wrote on the blackboard that war had broken out between him and us. He was having a relationship with a 17-year-old pupil, but that was still allowed in those days.

Last week, a lot of people in the European Parliament were pointing out that civilisation had started in Greece. Yes, and the Romans invented hot water and the Germans the motorways. ‘Ajax is a leading Dutch football club but also a cleaning product,’ is what I always say.

Maybe it’s time to seek guidance from the Oracle of Delphi. The following slogans adorned the walls of the temple: ‘Know yourself’ and ‘Everything in moderation’. I pronounce ‘Tsipras’ with less spittle than Guy Verhofstadt, but I would like to put these slogans to the Greek PM.

What rather worries me at the moment is the Greek army, and I’m not referring to the Evzones, the guards at the presidential palace and the parliament. (And also not to the one around the corner here in London, because he’s from a Greek restaurant.) The description of their uniform sounds like a poem:

• Ypodetes, a white cotton shirt with very wide sleeves
• Foustanela, a white cotton pleated kilt
• Boudouri, (white underpants; not visible under normal circumstances), white woollen stockings, held in position below the knees by Gonatoures (navy blue garters with tassels)
• Fermeli, a beautifully embroidered waistcoat made of navy blue velvet with copper-coloured buttons and long pieces of cloth hanging from the shoulders
• Fesi, a scarlet fez with a long black tassel
• Tsarouchia, red leather clogs with nailed soles and black pompoms

Which invites the question: what’s meant by ‘white underpants; not visible under normal circumstances’? What are the abnormal circumstances during which the white underpants are visible? ‘Mr Tsipras,’ – now some of this Guy Vanhofstad spittle is trickling from the corners of my mouth – ‘can you explain what constitutes such a singular circumstance?’

Well, my question is: does the Greek army, with or without ‘baroque’ outfits, pose a problem? Greece is being forced to cut back its defence forces. Where its defence budget is concerned, Greece is among the top spenders in the EU. Will the Greek army accept these cutbacks? Between 1967 and 1974 there was a military junta, and at that time too there was an economic mess. Before you know it, a Colonel Georgios Papadopoulos is emerging. Well, it’s all Greek to me.

© Arnold Jansen op de Haar
© Translation Holland Park Press