Fidias Panayiotou Reportedly Replaced by a Gerbil for Two Weeks — Nation Only Realized After Rodent Tried to Enter European Parliament
NICOSIA — In a shocking twist that has left the nation reeling and the internet howling, sources have confirmed that Fidias Panayiotou, Cyprus’ beloved chaos ambassador and MP-shaped wildcard, was secretly replaced by a gerbil in a hoodie for two full weeks — and no one noticed.
The scheme, which insiders are calling “Operation Rodent Substitute”, was allegedly masterminded by Fidias himself, who reportedly “wanted to see if anyone actually listens to him in meetings or just nods because he’s loud and tall.”
According to leaked WhatsApp screenshots and a blurry security video, Fidias snuck off on a spontaneous mission to paraglide across the Atlantic using only a wet t-shirt and optimism, leaving behind a lookalike gerbil named “Fidiaki” to fulfill his parliamentary duties.
The Gerbil’s Reign of Nonsense
Eyewitnesses say the gerbil, outfitted with a tiny blazer, AirPods, and a wig made from mop fibers, attended at least four committee meetings, one ribbon-cutting, and an EU video conference on environmental policy.
“Honestly, he was quieter than usual,” said one fellow MP. “But we thought he was meditating or trying to harness his inner Zen influencer.” Another said they became suspicious only when Fidias voted “yes” on everything, including a motion to ban inflatable flamingos from coastal waters and a budget line titled “Emergency Pizza for Democracy.”
At one point, the gerbil was even interviewed on a morning talk show, where it responded to all questions with gentle squeaks and occasional shoulder shuffles. Viewers praised Fidias for his “refreshing minimalism” and “deep animalistic energy.”
Clues Begin to Emerge
The ruse began to unravel when Fidiaki, during a live session of parliament, ran across the Speaker’s desk, stuffed a crouton into its cheek pouch, and vanished into a tissue box labeled “Important Legislation.” The footage went viral in under four minutes.
“I thought it was a performance piece,” said a cultural advisor. “Or maybe he was evolving into his next form — I wouldn’t put it past him.”
It wasn’t until Fidias suddenly reappeared at Larnaca Airport, covered in glitter and bits of parachute, mumbling about “winning an arm-wrestling tournament in international waters,” that people connected the dots — and realized the nation had been represented by a rodent for half a month.
Fidias Responds
Holding a press conference from inside a supermarket trolley (as a metaphor, possibly), Fidias confirmed the switch.
“Yes, it was a gerbil. But it was a responsible gerbil. Fidiaki believed in democracy, showed up on time, and didn’t ask for a single frappe. Can we say the same for the rest of Parliament?”
When asked if he would do it again, Fidias winked and replied, “There may or may not be a chinchilla negotiating trade deals with Lithuania as we speak.”
Public Reaction: Mostly Amused, Mildly Confused
Cypriots have reacted with their usual cocktail of bewilderment and resignation.
“I’d vote for the gerbil,” said one man in Paphos. “At least it doesn’t yell into my soul through Instagram.”
“He was replaced?” asked a woman in Nicosia. “I thought he just started meditating.”
Memes exploded across social media, with hashtags like #Fidiaki4President and #SqueakTheVote, while a local artist has already created a mural of the rodent mid-legislation, captioned: “The most productive MP in years.”
The EU Investigates, Kind Of
A spokesperson from the European Parliament has stated they are “looking into the matter,” but also admitted that “honestly, Cyprus could send a bowl of yogurt and we’d still call it participation.”
Unofficially, several EU delegates admitted they enjoyed “Gerbil Fidias” far more than “Loud Human Fidias,” citing the lack of impromptu TikToks during climate debates and “no references to teleportation.”
The Gerbil’s Current Whereabouts Are Unknown
As of publication, Fidiaki has reportedly fled political life and is now living quietly in a luxury birdcage in Larnaca, working on a memoir titled “From Cage to Committee: My Time in Parliament.”
This article is satirical. As far as we know, Fidias has not been replaced by a small rodent. But if he had been, we’re not convinced anyone would’ve noticed.
