To understand Peter V’Landys, and how he thinks and works, you need to know a little about history old and new, a smidgen of Greek mythology, a wee tad about religion too.
V’landys was born on a little island off the coast south of Athens called Kythera, which is spelt in a variety of ways including Kythira and Cythera among others. His ancestors had lived there forever before they emigrated to Australia, or at least for as long as anyone could remember, and PVL is very, very proud of being a Kytherian man. It is part of his physical being, his DNA, his psyche and his soul, and although he lives across the seas now he takes his responsibilities as a leader and role model for his people more seriously than most could ever imagine.
PVL is Kythera, and Kythera is he. No ifs, no buts. That’s the way it is, and the way it will always be. There shall be deviation, and he will never let his island or it’s people down. He won’t let himself or others down either, for to do so would be to disgrace his ancestors and his people, and that just will not happen.
Which leads us to the first and probably most crucial event in Kythera’s history, a myth perhaps, but the crucifixion and resurrection, and the rainbow serpent are too, and who is to say that those that believe in them are wrong? There is no right or wrong. Only what you think is right and wrong, and what your ancestors believed and passed down through the generations, and becomes embedded in your very being.
In the beginning there was an empty darkness. The only thing in this void was Nyx, a bird with black wings. With the wind she laid a golden egg and for ages she sat upon this egg. Finally life began to stir in the egg and out of it rose Eros, the god of love. One half of the shell rose into the air and became the sky and the other became the Earth. Eros named the sky Uranus and the Earth he named Gaia. Then Eros made them fall in love.
Uranus and Gaia sired the Titans, and one of them was a chap named Cronos. His mum soon got the jack of his dad because he was a tyrannical paranoid pick, so she secretly crafted a super sharp scythe that she hid in her womb while she watched and waited. One day when the time had come she asked her son to cut off his father’s balls, and like a good son he obeyed his mother’s wishes.
Whooshka! Off went Uranus’s knackers and into the sea off the coast of Kythera they fell, but the second they hit the water the sea swirled and foamed and before you could say Uranus has got no balls, up popped Aphrodite, aka Venus, the goddess of sex and love. She washed up on Kythera’s shores, and on that very day love was born in the same place that Peter V’Landys was.
Believe or not it’s true.
The moral of the story is that every Kytherian – including PVL – inherently believes down within that when you are faced with an oppressor you have to do whatever it takes to be happy and free, even if it means gelding your old man with a scythe.
That is PVL story one.
He is trying to do good, but don’t fuck with him or his path or he will cut off your balls.
A lot of history flows between then and 1940, but for brevity’s sake we will skip the detail and cut right to the chase, pardon the pun.
World War 2 was the second seminal event that found itself burned into PVL’s brain, even though he wasn’t born at the time or even close. His parents were though, and what happened never left them for as long as they lived.
In 1941 Mussolini’s Fascist mob invaded Kythera and occupied it by force. They treated the island a supply camp, and stole all the locals produce and food, leaving PVL’s ancestors to half starve.
In response the people of the island formed the resistance, a group dedicated to fighting the fascist invaders off, but when Mussolini got rissoled by his own people in 1943 the Germans moved in and PVL’s crew looked rooted.
Never underestimate a people whose creation myth is their mum getting her son to cut off his dad’s balls though. The locals kept kicking until in 1944 the Allied army – that’s us – moved in and it was goodnight nurse to the Huns.
V’Landys forebears proved to their generation and the next that Fascism can be defeated with brains and smarts and a whole lot of subterfuge. Sound familiar? It should.
So thus far we have got a kid who was brought up to believe that his people could achieve anything if they set their mind to it, and if it meant deballing your Dad via scythe, well such is life. Then along came the saint.
Saint Agai Paraskevi was her name, which means St Friday, and PVL found her under his bed, or he found her card there anyway which opened the door to his enlightenment, something that RV’s so called smart advisors missed entirely, which was a slip that turned into a very bad mistake, for the Saint’s claims to fame were a renunciation of personal privilege (have you seen the clobber that PVL wears?), a fear of nothing, the ability to heal the blind and make them see, and the utmost confidence that they would and could. Sadly however St Friday ended up without a head when Marcus Aurelius got hold of her, which was a lesson in itself because Marcus’s key belief was equanimity, which means calmness and composure, especially in a difficult situation. Sound familiar?
Here are the sums.
A man of virtue who had been brought up to believe that cutting your fathers balls of if you have to is a price that sometimes a strong leader must pay.
A bloke who isn’t afraid of anyone, even Hitler and his Nazi’s.
A chap who believes that consistently doing what’s right can make the world see.
And a hombre who does all this with calmness, composure and planning.
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
Would you want to take V’Landys on?
Not me.
For the sake of a nail the kingdom was lost they say. I think its true, however I prefer to say that if you are going to pick a fight with a proud Greek leader with a steel will to win, then do your bloody homework first.
It’s all on your head if you don’t.
Remember the Alamo.
And Troy.
Ta ta.