30/05/2012 13:19 BST | Updated 30/07/2012 06:12 BST

Greek Elections 2012 - Somebody Turn On The Lights

Greece is bombing out the euro. Greece is going no place, the country's place is in the eurozone, anyone who says otherwise should be put away in the lunatic asylum right next to the Napoleons.

Those who say that Greece needs financial aid to cover its internal expenses are liars and cheats, the country is loaded with a loan it does not need, just so it can pay back its German overlords. Utter fantasy, without financial aid from the EU, Greece would collapse within days, the country slipping back down the toilet bowl, flushed back to the stone age.

Many things can be said about the Greek predicament faced by the entire continent, heck the entire world. Many things indeed. Just don't call it dull and predictable. Because by the looks of things there are more mysteries hidden behind this particular Greek flag, than there are surrounding Bigfoot and Nessie combined.

Every single day, depending on poll predictions and party statements, Greece gets carpet bombed with all manner of scenarios. Disastrous and doom-mongering for the most part, they nevertheless are finding ample opposition by those stories that tell of a happy ending after all. A tough and hard fought ending, but isn't that just like a proper underdog story?

Truth is, there is as much reality behind all of them as there is behind Rocky. Truth is, there is no immediate solution. The EU was utterly blindsided, that much is clear, no safety exits were designed on the good ship Europe. No one knows how one jettisons dead weight, because no such system was put in place to begin with.

So where does that leave Greece?

In the dark. With whispers coming in from all sides, rising to growls then falling back into a mumbling drone. Pitch black, with no light to be found. The elections of 17 June, are no light switch, no lantern to lift against the gloom.

They're just another party piece, another chance at an electional booze up, between parties that have pretty much settled on the fact that it isn't in Greece's hands. Win or lose, right or left, it isn't really in Greece's hands. It never was by the looks of things.

Pasok, still reeling from the ballot slap on 6 May, is trying to convince itself, let alone its potential voters of its relevance, Evangelos Venizelos talking and talking and talking some more, lest he stop and remember that he essentially now runs a rubber dinghy sharing the same name with a once luxurious cruise liner. They are hubcaps, thinking they're spark plugs.

New Democracy are sweating, head cheese Antonis Samaras especially. He brought the 6 May elections down upon himself, lost in the wonder of PM shaped dreams and now sees 17 June as an electional Championship Manager game, snapping up free agents in the hope of shaping a league winning team. Problem is, if the new signings were as good as he's saying, then why were they shown the New Democracy door not so long ago? Dora Bakoyannis and the Laos runts, the third division wannabes posing as Premier League hotshots.

And then there's Syriza and dear, sweet Alexis Tsipras. The sexy and charismatic one as the foreign press call him, which is understandable, what with Venizelos looking like the Michelin Man in a bad suit and Samaras wearing the face of someone who has had a stroke and hasn't really got wind of it yet. Competition is rather poor. Still, he is a very young lad indeed, a boy ruler, with all the smug arrogance such a role goes with, a smug arrogance that both Pasok and New Democracy know all too well, even though they pretend they no longer do.

Tsipras is the man of the hour, a man so quintessentially Greek it as if he was made in a laboratory, a social experiment of fine form, promising everyone money, jobs, fewer taxes, a big "screw you" to anyone that says we might be held responsible for our numerous and weighty discrepancies, a man of the people, carrying with him a Greece that every one of its citizens want. That freeze framed wonderland that existed between the mid 80s and mid 90s, a Mediterranean Disneyland, where we had cash even of we didn't and no matter how bad things were, there was coin to be made somehow. Because we had the drop on those Europeans and we were laughing all the way to the bank with it.

None of the trio have a clue. Neither do the back up brigade. The communist party, the neo Nazis and everyone in between. Whether this way or that, they're all essentially waiting for another solution to tumble from the EU production line. One that will hopefully snap into place with their electional fables.

Too bad for them then, that this time the production line is weezing and coughing to a halt, its numerous mechanics having lifted their hands in a gesture of don't-look-at-me-I-just-work-here uselessness.

Wrong time to break down daddy-o.