What's a Grecian Urn?

Busy day today. My male staff's mum came home from hospital and he and I spent the afternoon sorting out her medication. She has to take nine tablets every morning and seven every night. She has steroids to shrink the swelling around her tumour, she has tablets to prevent seizures and one to prevent cramp. There are painkillers, things for her tummy and a calcium tablet the size of a Frisbee. While my male staff sorted them into morning and evening doses I tried each one to make sure they were safe. They were, but now I rattle like a tin drum full of dried peas. I'm looking forward to passing them to see what sort of effect they have on my bush chocolate. Many of the tablets are bush chocolate shaped, so I'm interested to see whether or not passing through my digestive system alters their appearance at all.

Other things less important than the shape of my bush chocolate have been happening in the world today too.
Insignificant things like the Eurozone's third largest economy teetering on the brink of a large toilet, threatening to flush the rest of the world's economy into the financial sewer with it. It seems Signor B has been spending rather too much on young prostitutes and pizzas, and who can blame him, we all like a good pizza now and again. However if it means bringing the world's economy to it's knees most of us would probably resist the temptation.  At the same time Greece's moussaka mines and ouzo wells are all about to close down.
To paraphrase the old joke -
Q. "What's a Grecian urn?"
A. "Too bloody much to sustain a national economy based on the export of feta cheese." 

Of course Britain is somewhat insulated from all the chaos on the continent because shortly after the Falklands War ended Mrs Thatcher employed the Royal Navy to tow the entire island westward because she couldn't stand the smell of garlic wafting across the English Channel from France. This had the added benefit of bring her closer to her two friends across the Atlantic - the somewhat senile Ronald Reagan and the somewhat brutal Augusto Pinochet.

Meanwhile here in jolly old Blighty the Conservative/Liberal Democrat government is up to it's receding chin in bush chocolate, for several reasons actually, but for the moment at least mostly because they've forced Brodie Clark - a senior civil servant with the UK Border Force to resign because he authorised a relaxation of passport checks during the peak summer months. This meant that all sorts of undesirables may have entered Britain undetected. Terrorists, criminals, Australian tourists. The problem is that he says he had the authority to do it from the Home Secretary, Theresa May. Consequently the bush chocolate has hit the fan and the Prime Minister is saying that he backs the Home Secretary all the way. In other words she's as doomed as clump of coriander at a cavy convention.