Dear Diary: I had barely taken my first mouthful of Froot Loops this morning when my iPresidentophone burst into a rousing chorus of Hava Nagila. " Good Morning, Bibi," I said. For it was he. "Mister Netanyahu, to you, Big Ears," came the reply.
"You get out of the wrong side of the air raid shelter this morning?" I asked cheerily. "Why don't you stop defending yourselves and play nice with Mahmoud Abbas," I said. "I'm sure he will quickly reciprocate."
Silence. "Bibi? Bibi? Mr Netanyahu?" " For a moment thought I heard a voice say "moron." I am held in such high regard by other world leaders, that it must have been something like "genius" in Hebrew or Aramaic or whatever they talk over there. But enough about me.
"You get out of the wrong side of the air raid shelter this morning?" I asked cheerily. "Why don't you stop defending yourselves and play nice with Mahmoud Abbas," I said. "I'm sure he will quickly reciprocate."
Silence. "Bibi? Bibi? Mr Netanyahu?" " For a moment thought I heard a voice say "moron." I am held in such high regard by other world leaders, that it must have been something like "genius" in Hebrew or Aramaic or whatever they talk over there. But enough about me.
