In the world over, the very name of our country is immediately associated with the Parthenon.

I want to believe in a personal god who looks after me and my loved ones and knows every sparrow that falls. But the suffering of one single child, or more likely, millions is evidence against that belief. The one question I want to ask god: how do you explain or justify the suffering of a child?

Enthusiasm is a wonderful thing. In South America they throw flowers to you. In Greece Greeks throw themselves.

Read Churchill, he tells you how crucial was the Greek role in your decisive desert victory over Rommel.

We say to the British government: you have kept those sculptures for almost two centuries. You have cared for them as well as you could, for which we thank you. But now in the name of fairness and morality, please give them back.

You must understand what the Parthenon Marbles mean to us. They are our pride. They are our sacrifices. They are our noblest symbol of excellence. They are a tribute to the democratic philosophy. They are our aspirations and our name. They are the essence of Greekness.