Oil - not going for a song

I cannot say I was inspired by Luciano Pavarotti's mumbling in Dubai last week.

But the larger than life tenor did provide inspiration for this column, which takes an odd turn but I hope will make a few of you smile rather than growl as most of us did during the disastrous farewell appearances by the Italian one-time great.

If Luciano Pavarotti can take a hammering before, then I suppose so can I and I am sure I have a much smaller audience. So here is my fly-on-the-wall type operetta lyrics (partly in Latin with translation in parentheses), to be sung or hummed to the tune of, say, Nessun Dorma (Opec sleeps as oil prices jig) or a jazz version of Fiddler on the Roof (Opec fiddles as oil markets sizzle).

The scene is a theatre in a central European capital overlooking the Beautiful Blue Danube (another suggested tune). The cast of 11 men no women include the representatives of Messypotamia, Rex, Qtip (somewhere south of Messypotamia), Catarrh, Algernon, the Moor (his next door neighbour), Godolphin Arabian, the Bearded Wonder, Delta Force, Fidel's Buddy and Lean Indy.

The characters may bear some resemblance to real people but please ignore that. They are only a figment of my imagination.

Enter Algernon surrounded by a posse of scribes followed by the rest of the cast, who all take their seats around a horseshoe-shaped table. The posse leaves after a scramble for scraps from the banquet.

Rex: Salve (greetings). I am here to tell you that we are running out of time. We all have great power but the big countries to the East and to the West of us want to destroy us by taking away every drop of our black gold. We must fight back so let us give them some more. Acta non verba (we need action not words).

Catarrh: (clearing throat): Deo? Are you mad. They want our black gold and yet you will give them more? Explain yourself.

Rex: (mutters to himself) Damnant quod non intellegunt (they condemn what they do not understand). Catarrh, I think you are full of gas but you are a friend and a neighbour so I will be polite because I like you.

Catarrh: You are too kind but we have only one day in which to do this and if you want to be really nice, you would let us send our gas across your lands to Qtip.

Rex: Well it is like this. If we do not give them more, they will invade us. Look at what happened to Messypotamia. Their black gold is gurgling underneath and they are having to buy a lot of their cooking oil from Qtip. That big bully Burning Bush knows a thing or two about this matter and he will not let us hold it back. Do not give him a Cassus Beli (an act to justify war) to attack all of us.

What I am saying is that I think we should give them one million barrels more now so that the big greedy ones do not start holding back.

If they stop taking our black gold, what else are we going to sell them? Sand? De Bene Esse (it shall be so as long as it is well).

Qtip: I agree with my good friend (sotto voce) but please, Absit invidia (no offence intended) but can we have that gas from Catarrh, we really need it and you are so great and merciful.

Rex: That is non-negotiable at this time. We need to move together now on this matter Pari Passu (with equal step).

Chorus: Pari Passu. Pari Passu.

The Moor: (whispering to Qtip): You always say exactly what Little Big Sands wants to hear but with that gas thing, fartim exanimus (you are dead meat).

By the way, I think a lot of people are getting angry with you for being too close to the bushman and his people in the White House.

Qtip: You are a fine one to talk. Who is it who has let in all the bushman tribes into their country, giving the oppressors of the Red Indians who were supposed to be your friends all the land so they can drill for your black gold.

The Moor: Well you obviously do not know the song that these bushmen sing when they come over to our land. I will sing it to you. Bring in the tall clown known as MQ to accompany me.

Solo: (From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli). Now do you understand? Faber qisque fortunae suae (each man must make his own fortune).

(Clownus distributes green books to all and disappears as the group sniggers.)

Fidel's Buddy: Mamma mia. We have had an annus mirabilis (wondeful year) with the price of our black gold reaching for the skies. Why do you want to give the greedy ones more. The Chinaman now wants more and the Indian tribes want more so why not keep some back for our children and our grand children. Pecunia in arbotis non crescit (money does not grow on trees).

Delta Force: So why then do you give it to your friend Castro for free and make the bushman and his tribe so angry they want to kill you?

(Gasps of horror from the crowd).

Godolphin: We are not here to jest and jig. We have to reach a consensus omnium (united agreement) if we are to fly our big birds back to our lands before dark. So let us agree on acta non verba (action not words). All of you present here are cheating and selling your black gold here there and everywhere, plusque minusque (plus or minus) a few barrels is not going to make a big difference.

Algernon: Caveat Emptor (may the buyer beware) the price of black gold will go up if we do not give them more. I say let them come begging to those people who colonised us and raped our patria (land). I say do not give them more and they will come begging. (mutters away in French).

Godolphin: May I remind you that we made a big erratum (mistake) when we gave them all our oil when they did not want it a few harvests ago. I seem to remember it was your idea, Rex. Oh how we suffered then. My coffer is only half full. Experientaia docet stultos (experience teaches fools).

Little Indy: Oh oh. Absum (I am outta here). I don't think Rex is going to like that. And what about the rest of us, I do not have enough black gold to sell to the Chinaman any more so I get nothing and you get it all.

Not fair, not fair (he stamps his feet). Vitam regit fortuna, non sapientia (fortune not wisdom rules). What about you Bearded Wonder. You used to stand up to Rex and we used to spend weeks here eating Wiener Schnitzel. What has happened to you?

The Bearded Wonder: Ventis secundis, tene cursum (I go with the flow).

Rex: Pace tua (with your consent), we will give then the black gold so they can store it and burn their fire with it and they will give us fewer nuggets now but soon they will get greedy again and come back for more and we will get even more nuggets than we get now. Acta est fabula, plaudite. (The play is over, applaud).

Encore... encore... encore.

The writer is the Middle East editor of Platts, energy information division of the McGraw-Hill Companies. The opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Platts.