Happy New Year Everyone

This would be the last one up for 2011, unless of course they find that freaking planetoid that’s going to crash on Earth to end it all. We are just past X-mas (Crimbo, if that X is too strong for you) and the New Year is on the way. There is less than a day left, and they haven’t yet found the Apocalypto planet. Are they not ready to start New Year? The answer is NO, and neither am I, for I want the most bang for buck in this time around. If doom mongers are correct about the Mayan calender, a cool, large, black object floating towards us, being found by an amateur astronomer who had no bathroom windows in the vicinity to focus his telescope would do just fine.

Listen up boys, New Year here is a big event. The number of fire-crackers being lit at midnight gives you the impression of being in the middle of Hamburg air-raid by the Bomber Command led by Sir Arthur Harris. If you are not familiar with the local scenario, it could scare the living daylights out of you. My point is that people here want to scare themselves shitless during the transition hour, and what more could give them the biggest bang for buck than a nice little dark interstellar neighbour coming around for a friendly planetary handshake? If you want a circus, you've got to have the elephants (Jubal Harshaw, in Stranger in a strange land). Well here is hoping them have the elephants.

When the New Year arrives, past memories drag us to past. Surely we cannot build our future by forgetting past. But if we take the future out of equation, bingo, its all sorted. That planet will surely help us out there. So the wankers wallowing in nostalgia can have a sigh of relief, for there will be no future for them to dread. Ah, and I can play my God Save the Queen track by Sex Pistols endlessly – it repeats “no future” about a dozen times. Will also open the eyes of those trolls who dislike my choice of music taste.....

Why am I writing these? Because my beautiful secretary took upon her the task of writing the 2011 swansong blog, and it looked like the Sermon on the Mount. In my very humble opinion, sermons are the last thing these people need. She, being a delicate girl, writes “For a moment turn to your past. Is it full of happy memories or sad ones? Can you be satisfied with things you did last year?...”. Yeah, just look at the way they chose their leaders and see if you find any evidence of retrospect, hindsight, or regret. “If you want to live happily this New Year you must call to mind the past. Sometimes when you go back you get angry with past things”. Sure, except folks here are too dumb, selfish, and remorseless; righteousness is a word without a meaning here. They do feel angry about some past deeds alright. But fair play has nothing to do with it.

I am saying this because down here, these people are corrupting the core of their very existence. They corrupt their religion, their governance, their reasoning, and their environment. Being too self centred to bother with anything that might even loosely benefit others, we are merrily down the road to perdition. Its my job as a visa consultant to guide those who want to defect into the paradise. See how morally superior I myself am!

I am not saying that folks down here are any less human than folks elsewhere. My guess is that they are in a bad patch of time and the moral & cultural fibre of their existence is coming undone. Ones it starts you need elephants to pull it back together. In their 2500 years of written history, they have pulled themselves together in worse situations. Recent war effort to safeguard their island’s territorial integrity being a good example. So what’s the big issue? Will they not be able to mend things in the nick of time again? My secretary wants to comment & advice them on this matter, and today's blog is co-authored by her.

Actually, I have not lost my faith in the nation as much as this blog purports it to be. My real concern is that only a very few among us are bothering to open their eyes to reality. There is no need to go deeply philosophical or retrospective to find the answer. We here need to accept one single fact of life. That is Civilisations fall. And ours fell about 600 years ago. We are not the race we used to be and this whole thing about a pure Sinhalese-Buddhist culture is a sham. Nothing, not even our religion in its present form, dress code, or even wedding customs are real. This is a whole pile of shite without anything authentic in it. Absolutely.

My new year wish for the nation is them being able to open their eyes to this reality and making amends to make things better, for everyone. I hope they give up one delusion this coming year, just one delusion, and make some effort to understand that we are in this together. When we come out of these dark woods of cultural delusion its a simple next step to realise that individual success is based on success as a group, and that we have proven time and time again that we still have what it takes to do that.

So this new year, sum up your courage and lets come out of the dark woods, together.

Happy new year everyone.

Merry Christmas, here are the Nirvana

Hello and a Merry Christmas everyone. Just past the midnight and in the ides of midnight mass, here I am writing for your entertainment. Well, Christmas is all about charity and goodwill, so some effort is surely not uncalled for, specially in this blessed hour.

Each Christmas, with all the joy, vivacity, seasonal goodwill and lovely cards from fine friends I have, I sit myself down with a tea (now that’s not alcohol, OK) and wonder. Have we got the message? The message of Christ that is.

Considering that, there are two distinctive messages out there. Just tune on telly or meet the guy with a black belt & a hood at church for the most common message. And you are invited to try out “The X-Rated Bible” or, if that is too hard to reach, just reach for the one at home to read following passages for the other message:

Matthew 10:35-36, Luke 14:26, Luke 12:51-53 & Matthew 10:34 (so much for the "Prince of Peace"), Luke 20:34-36 (if you plan to be together in hereafter), Matthew 26:24 (for anti abortionists), Matthew 23:14 & Matthew 12:34 (for some seasonal goodwill).

Now I am not asking you to give up on Jesus because some Bible passages are inconsistent with what ever we hold as moral values, but I am seriously asking you to open your eyes. I am telling you (here is my stint playing the vicar, enjoy), I am telling that Jesus did give us a message. And he was mostly right too! We are all a race of hypocrites. We seek & preach qualities and virtues that we ourselves do not ever wish to possess or practice, teach them to kids secretly hoping they will turn into ignorant selfish bastards like ourselves in order to succeed in life, curse and deride those who show even a modicum of those qualities that we suppose Jesus asked us to have, and most of all, we are so self righteous, despite bible asking us to be careful in this sense (Romans, Ch 14 if my memory serves).

No, we have not got the message Jesus gave us. We pretend we understand it, we pretend we practice the virtues, but in reality, his message is the last thing on earth we would try out. A den of vipers, a species resembling what Jesus described in Matthew 23:27, dead inside.

Want a proof? Here I am writing about virtues while downloading a torrent, and aXXo is a hero in my universe. This is piracy, and its stealing. Yet here I am downloading it. So much for the preaching about Jesus and the local actress prostitute clan. And there is more. Wait for it. I recently found a little kidda (relation) downloading something over the net and like that judge in US, I punished her aptly (while I returned home and switched on the BitTorrent as the first act). Is this virtue? Was she doing something I myself would not be found dead doing?

Yes, I do know there is something in torrents and computer malware writers that helps us deeply if you care to look. Freedom of information sharing and security – in simplicity. Because if we stopped torrents, where will we draw the line? How vulnerable will our systems be to exploiters if not for the malware writers who constantly keep showing us holes in our armour? But this is beyond the point. The question Jesus would have asked will be something like: Did you download Teen Girl P&*$% 3 to defend the freedom of information flow, honestly? How many of us can answer that truthfully? - that will be MY question, that is after Jesus had asked his and before you answer.

This Christmas I would want everyone to consider my question, for Jesus is not here to ask his. If you can't consider it, then hope in your heart that Jesus must never come down here to establish his kingdom, for we are quite pleased with the one we have made for ourselves.

After all, he might ask some tough questions from us. So lets ask him to f off and wish everyone around us a very merry Christmas. 

Merry Christmas Everyone. Joy be to all.  

UK & USA Student visa

Here I am again after a longish hiatus. Wanted to write some interesting things but there was no time. There are several things I want to tell you about UK and USA visa process, which might interest you if you are considering student visa applications there.

As we discussed before, US visa is rather a straight forward process. As long as you have documentation right, its a candy bar. But remember, you do need to show good funding, that is there must be good enough indication to show you actually have this money and can afford it without hassle.

The college you go should be having a good reputation in YOUR home country, so embassy staff has more positive picture of the college. More ever, the course should be something one would believe as a valid one. BA in American History might not be such a good idea - unless you had some insane special desire to study it since the time in mother’s knee.

Filling out visa application? Hell, just don’t be too clever there. Answer as truthfully as humanely possible, give clear indications, put out a covering letter making matters clear to others (aka The Visa Officer), give genuine documentary support, and hope for the best.

Do not go nit picking over filling out a visa application. This is USA, not UK which is an other story. Its online, don’t go nit picking (again), and have originals of documents ready. Your presentation of yourself is more important than minor silly slips on the application form. Mark that.

Now let’s turn towards the UK student visa system. It too is a simple and fair system, established by, who else, the Brits. But unfortunately one can’t say the same about the bunch of major a-holes put into implementing it. A simple oversight might have your visa refused and you might be charged with false representation and what not. They live in world of paranoia and take it on from you. But my major worry is being cheated by the false education service providers, also known as College of Non-existence and what not. The truth is, if you are serious of studies, don’t ever touch these effing colleges even with the thin end of a bargepole. All these colleges with affiliation to local establishments are good for nothing, lousy, business front ends. You would not learn anything in them, except perhaps how to become a con artist. So do give a second thought about where you study.   

My advice with UK student visa system is honesty does not pay. Its as simple as that. Cut corners where you could, for you are not likely to get a positive & fair response from them. Now I am not asking you to cheat over there, but I do not feel people are treated fairly and though I myself won’t be doing it for you, its the way it turns out. So be aware what’s in store for you at the UK visa section before you sink a fortune in it.

Paradise Lost

Boys & girls of Manchester, I present you Miss(?) Sasha Grey – well, none of the prudes down here asked to know too much about her. Strange sort of behaviour for a country infested with…… No, just read some local newspapers and you could add your own definition. Born out of wedlock (one word, pl) would handily describe the entire populace of this god forsaken, bigoted, prudish, good for nothing land. But then again its common knowledge, there is no point in rubbing it on.

Maybe they are too religious and modest, so the prudes wouldn’t dare asking openly? Oh really? Modesty in small doses – if you had the sense of a POS to watch some “Superstar” programme on TV here… Uncultured animals taint everything they come into contact with. Be it singing, dancing, or even extramundane affairs like religion. Its all pretence.

Enough of these small talk, here is her web address: http://sashagrey.com/  Fortunately that is one girl who has not found Jesus. My hat off to you Miss(!) Grey, for being so modest, in a world full of hypocrites pretending to be religious, a land full of cheap prostitutes pretending to be actresses, ad infinitum. You alone are the honest, the modest, and truthful. Sad isn’t it.

Kids, I know you want more: http://peoples-history.com/art/cinema/actor/sasha_grey/9.shtml, and see what you are missing at home.

Republica is singing “Drop-dead gorgeous” on the speakers, some visas gained against stiff resistance of the very fine gentlemen at UK High Commission, a not so legit copy of Melancholia in the USB pen, and you want to see why I am raving mad about you know who on blog. Aye, I ain’t takin them any more seriously than you do. Its just that no one asked, I mean nobody asked to know about Sasha Grey. Now that would be an original sin. Cry not poor Sasha, salvation is within thy reach. But make sure you commit some sins, for people who are denizens of this land believe they have committed some meritorious deed to have born here. And I don’t think its such a clever idea to come down here.

So next week we will talk something about getting US visas. Perhaps there is something you can learn from it.

Oleander Eaters

Once again here I am with my usual apologies, a thousand apologies like Mr Singh in the Mind Your Language, a double entendre hard to miss considering it was done in a post flower power time. Here I am, stuck with some project of secretary, not knowing what to write. Looks like its slipping from me now.

What's slipping compared to events and developments in the outside world down here. Recently the parents of a school had objected to having beautiful Miss (?) Sasha Grey reading for their kids at school - a programme to promote reading and what not, in where else - America. In case you are not aware, the parents were not opposed to the programme per se, but the presenter herself, who is/was a famous porn actress. One would be hard pressed to take the eyes off one of those lucid, oh never mind what, but she's a real stunner I say. She’s a beauty alright. I can almost empathise with some mommas up across the pool, after all not everyone is blessed the same way.

As one would expect, Miss Grey seems to have little expectations of getting out the programme herself, she is a celebrity after all. Now this should not be taken as my critical and personal evaluation of her acting skills. That would be admitting me watching porno in spare times. Do you? I mean do you watch them? Perhaps its better we left that bit off right here... So who said she is a celebrity? It was the school board, dummy. I hope the kids wouldn’t ask some tough questions like exactly what she’d done to become a celebrity. Well, we’d better leave off that lead too for now.

Poor Sasha, coming to think of it, an actress was caught here recently for prostitution. I mean she’s not a patch on Sasha, not worth a dust mote compared to Sasha, and she had clients at LKR 5000 per go. Bitch couldn't even act! How unfair, poor Sasha trying hard to get a life and we oppose her, while we oppose this downtrodden meat-piece here trying to screw hers up. I mean what do you want people to do?

5000! OK you can pay three times more than that at UK or Canada high commission here to get screwed by them. So I guess the guys here got a better deal with the local actress.

OK I admit its all sour grapes. But that's what freedom of expression and liberty means, the right to screw on blog those who you can’t afford to screw in flesh. Besides there is nothing wrong with porn films. I am all for it. Its hell of a lot better than listening to a television sermon by some BSc qualified monk bastard out there. No joke, I'd rather wish kids looked at porn than TV crap out here. News included.

A society poisoning its soul with fake religions and holy men with healing powers and committing drug offences politically, now big into arresting cheap prostitutes who try to please those who could afford the service while hurting no one.

I guess it was another celebrity who once wrote “witchcraft is a victimless crime”, not that anyone in the inquisition paid any attention to it. And people here think they are lotus eaters! I'm sure it’s not lotus, but some other thing. And what they eat has poisoned their very souls. 

Those who oppose Miss Grey and meat-piece cheap prostitutes in Sri Lanka deserve to be here. That’s what karma means. Period.

Amen

The Great Steve Jobs

Now that Steve Jobs has passed away, he had left a void that is unlikely to be filled by anyone in the foreseeable future. He was one of the last greats of a decaying society, cowed in by the politically correct bigots, run by the greedy corporate execs, and managed by our own pettiness towards change. We are down a slippery slope, age of masters is already past. We have not seen great composers for two odd generations, Elgar (Edward) may have been the last and we are now satisfied with Barenboim and Robert Miles. As for science, the situation is pitiful – Feynman must have been the last we will ever see. Sure there is Kary Mulis, and Stephen Hawkins. But they are not in the same league as Fermi, Feynman, or surely Oppenheimer.

In the dark night skies where all the stars have burnt out, we see a few specks of light, and Steve was one of them. I know he did not invent a thing, yet he paved the way to our modern computer (with apologies to Alan Turin), he was a pirate, who stole the ideas from others, but he made it all out there. Had Mr Jobs not intervened, we’d be stuck with that Gates fellow, and I would rather go back to the stylus and slate. If you want to get a better understanding of these guys, why not watch Pirates of Silicon Valley – best description of the bunch by far, and you don’t even have to be a movie buff to watch it.

Many people have put their condolence messages on the Yahoo message board, and of the lot I chose the one that says “there are three apples that changed the world. The first was Eve’s apple that gave way to us all, then it was Newton’s apple which brought out modern science, and then its Steve Job’s Apple..” I find it hard to disagree.

And there is another point that binds them together – a bit far removed from the Apple thingy. Adam was a bastards who slept with his own daughters and fornicated against the will of the God (never mind how stupid god was to place the accursed tree out there in the open – what the f was the purpose of that? Then again he had the good sense to make the pot plant too and place in the Garden of Eden..), and Sir Isaac Newton was a bastard who committed arson by setting fire to his own parental house to roast the parents, and Steve jobs was an equal to his Apple-sakes by being a despotic leader and denying fatherhood of his own daughter – he went as far as claiming he was sterile!!! Oddly enough, when Steve returned to Apple, employees dreaded of bumping into him in the building. The story was “if you met Steve in the elevator, you would not have the job when the doors opened”! just think of it.

But then again he was not all that bad. He did have many, very many in fact, things going positive for him. He did everything right, made good machines, changed the world, reconciled with his estranged daughter and wife, brought in the iPhone, brought the mouse (computer) in to everyday use, lived an average life, and most of all – he gave strength and courage to all up coming young talent. He was the role model for many, showing them how to turn misfortunes into great success stories, how to rise from the ashes, and, ah, why college dropouts do better than book worms!

So where do we stand here? Sure he was a genius, sure he made an indelible mark on our day to day lives, and was the role model for many. But his private life was something of a mess, with authoritarian approach, selfishness and reluctance to appreciate how others feel. Strange that the best human-computer interface came from a man who did not sometimes recognise the humanity in people around him (from that sterile claim incident to pulling down a historic edifice just before his death).

I tell you where we stand – we stand where we accept Steve Jobs’ humanity. Sure he was all that. But his personal weaknesses only point to the fact that he himself was only human. Man. Was man not the God’s supreme creation? Steve was a man, and his life proves it.

Disheartened?

Consider Mr Gates then. He never tried LSD, or went to an Ashram, or tried to deny fatherhood. Exemplary man isn’t he. Now take one effing look at his creation – the Windows Operating System….

Jobs in Canada (with a romantic twist)

How do I go to Canada – well there are lots of ways, but “Live-in-Caregiver” may not be one of them. There are two reasons why you won't qualify:

you need recognised work history or 6 months training

you need good English

Remember kids, this particular job is a bit tightly regulated in Canada, specially as some so called care givers end up in an other type of care giving. Namely at bars, as bar girls. My friend Kathy, who is in the task force had told me some horrid stories of this. So if you are serious of going there, make sure you qualify, and it really is a care-giver job. Unless you have some other plans of course....

Now I need to say a word or two about the two qualifications here. An NVQ or a HND can come handy, but if your other bits are good, a locally obtained diploma will do just fine. But do make sure its genuine, so we (and the potential employer) can fight it out if the band of twats here refuse it. Besides there is a personal reason for me to request a genuine qualification, you are dealing with someone's life here, all unsupervised sometimes. I wouldn't want to see you coming in to my room at wee hours of the morning with the rat poison bottle in hand when what I really need is the cough medicine. So please, Canadian dream can be fun, but not at the price of my head. Funerals are expensive affairs in Canada, you know.

As for the English bit, now that is something the dorks here have taken by the tail. Whatever it is, a decent level is sufficient – do all those East Euro girls have perfect English? Its not a tenured position at the local university language department, but then again whom are you going to complain? Canada High Commission in Sri Lanka is a fortified edifice like the Guantanamo detention centre for Al-Qa'ida suspects. Any form of discussion is out of question – a diplomatic mission is there to deal with the locals, and this bunch seems to be thinking they are sent here for some other matter, like manning a castle in a hostile territory.

All in all, in countries like Sri Lanka, with a few honourable exceptions, getting a faire hearing from a visa officer is a bit of a lottery. And the Canadians rank high in the dork scale against pretty tough competition.

So why are we crying wolf of care giver programme? Cause someone wanted a visa for that, except her real purpose was of course, well you guessed. Not that I disagree, a karaoke girl is also doing a pretty good care-giver job, albeit of a different kind. But who am I to disagree.

Its a tough situation and the thing to work out for me was if she'd ever get to a position dealing with some poor old feller's medicine cabinet, and when that is out of the window, rest is a matter of professional judgement – which is help her. I mean look at Hotel Chelsea NY. Its all a matter of working things out. You could write a book, just be the silly tourist, or be part of the Chelsea whatever. Don't get it? Lets see, 2001 was written there, more or less, and you could be a nice fine paying guest like me, or be one of those people bent in the other way – it was a popular destination for that too, you know. Specially before the times of current social acceptance of some diversity out there in the nether regions. John Jr., nevermind who, was once served a flyer for a club in a foyer, and this John feller, being a strong opponent of gentlemen of the diversified nature, immediately responded: Do I look like an arse banger to you?

So when you are coming here for visa advice with a care-giver pretence – I may have a similar question to ask. Please don't be offended. Its just me.

A Brief History of Getting US Visa

K, I have been late on this, very late in fact. But then again I promised to write on US Visa process, so I waited till some good news comes. There were other things to write, but a word is a word. That could be an advantage when one is a nice Jewish boy like myself….

If you are planning to apply for US visa, here is the breakdown:

Decide before you apply! That is decide if you are going for studies, holiday, business, or some other affaire – such as getting married, applying for residence, etc.

Get yourself a piece of paper and write down the reason you are going there, and then check out the type of visa you need through http://travel.state.gov/visa/temp/types/types_1286.html

So you won’t get cross-eyed while filling the visa application.

Now decide how long you intend to stay over there. Kindly be realistic on this. About a month is more or less a max for a tourist visa, less than 3 weeks for a family visit + some event, about two weeks for paying a bedside visit to a dead (!) relation, a week is enough for a short interview or ilk. Ah, and a business trip is less than a month, ideally 3 weeks. Simply, just don’t write 3 months anywhere.  

Having decided why and for how long, now you need to get your finance in order. Remember you need to show sufficient funds for the journey – so a cool 300,000 for a week would certainly help you get the visa. Going there for over 3 weeks? Have about one million in the bank.

If you don’t have good finance or pre arranged accommodation, you need a letter from the sponsor. This should have sponsor’s daytime telephone number on it, as well as the current address. Ideally, mention your relationship with sponsor on the letter: Relation, business partner, student (by college), etc.

If you are not visiting anyone who is hosting you, then you ought to have some pre arranged accommodation in place and the money I mentioned above, roughly.

How much do you actually have to spend week in USA? It depends, about $600 p/w will do unless you want to max it out. The money I mentioned above is just for show, so US Embassy knows you can afford the trip…..

Now get your US related documents in order. These may be invitations, ticket bookings, accommodation letters & bookings, business contact details, a letter from college, etc. this list is very important as it is the first set of evidence to prove genuine-ness of your journey.   

Make sure these are legible, traceable, and recent (pertaining to time of application).

Next you need to have a set of documents indicating your present status in Sri Lanka, that is employment, salary, business income, properties, family etc. this is vitally important as this is the place where visa officer gets an idea if you’d ever come back here!

Remember: US visa officer considers EVERY applicant as a potential immigrant. Its up to you to prove its otherwise!!

Last but not the least, arrange flight booking letter, your plan in US (OK, visited the relation/business partner/college in US – then what?), what you going to do afterwards, what you do when you come back, etc. This will really improve your chances of getting a visa.

Now you go to TTS (in front of Liberty Plaza – not inside there, which hosts a house of ill fame if you climb up a bit….), fill in your application, fix a date for the interview and off you go. In simpler words, when you tie up your end, the TTS will fix the rest.

Do not go to TTS and ask for favours, they can’t influence the visa process. Please. This is a common matter people refer us to. No we can’t give you visa either. We can only advice, and TTS only submit documents on your behalf. OK.

Interview only lasts for few minutes. So do not expect to deliver a long treatise on History of Time or anything of that nature. Truthfulness is the policy that works, as is my experience. If you get it, they will tell you there. They are not in the habit of wasting your time (or their’s).

All in all, I must say US visa system is quite faire and its simple. Try not to deceive them, and they in turn will be honest with you.

Good luck

Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols

I came home from the Old Boy event to find out that Amy Winehouse died of – should I tell you after all that consumption of &quoth there? Later on some silly newspaper here had compared her to Kurt Cobain, cause they both died when 27. Sacrilege I say, she was not a patch on ol Kurt. Idiots. Major *beep*holes in the time-space continuum. People who write these have never listened to Nirvana, or Joy Division (Ian Curtis committed suicide too – Deb wrote Love will tear us apart on his headstone). Never mind the goolie-less, here's the Sex Pistols. No they haven't heard them either. And these idiots are the entertainment column writers here. You need a slem gun to blast them out of existence, or better still hand them over to Martians to carry out some bizarre experiments to figure out how life on Earth should not be.... Now that's what I call public service.

This is so trite, so I let Amy find her way in the other world and opened the email (it was 2.20 AM it was “Need to Do” basis). A good news. We are winning a case at UK Immigration & Asylum Tribunal. Perhaps its time to send a reminder to William of Twelve Pints a Day, about the complaint I lodged with him. This guy is nowhere compared to William of Orange (he was crowned), he is not even anything like William the Silent (who was not crowned – yet won the war), this one is William of York. York, of places for a William to come forth. School kids will rejoice, Robert (William if you rename a colour) of York gave battle in vain.... Yet I have a lot of respect for this guy and have huge faith in this guy, and if you asked me in person, I would forsake my namesake (OK, after some adjustments with spellings and meaning!) and name him The Best PM We Never Had. Except he still got some time to be otherwise if he plays his cards right.

Playing his cards like sending some Prozac to Deputy High Commission outfit in Chennai for an example. By the way the William who was crowned was William iii, I don't want you kids to get your history wrong. And I'd rather if we all could leave that twelve pint incident where it belongs. Behind that is. Watch out for Tony Blair with you that side kids, he is known to..... nevermind.

Its been a week since, and MTV has turned 30 today. A writer on Not the York William is from Daily News laments: MTV's record on women isn't much better. With the emergence of macho hair metal, videos routinely featured women who were portrayed as little more than strippers- what else are those utter talent vacuums except mere strippers I ask. They are only good for one thing, and we all know it. They know it too. Kudos to MTV for getting it right. If you want talent look at Pat Benatar or Chrissie Hynde. If you want more try Ella Fitzgerald, you'd find out what talent is. Not of the York.. writer goes on further to state Now, we're left with an MTV that no longer has "Music Television" as part of its logo, and for good reason - it hardly plays any music... and then go onto describe Snooki. Son, they don't play any music anymore cause there isn't any to play. They show Snooki because she is also a cheap stripper like the women singers of MTV. Fits the bill, and Birds of a feather flock together... like Amy Winehouse. Too much wine in da house can do you lot of harm kiddies, remember that.

My apologies to all those people who complained this has gotten to look like the alcoholics music entertainment bulletin. I know. My sincere apologies. A thousand apologies. As for those who say its trite, a thousand apologies, again.

Next time we will talk about going to USA and visa problems. And, again with apologies, I can't help it being stale. The blog is not supposed to be an intellectual gateway into anywhere. Average time span to write – 30 minutes flat. Average editing number – 01.

With figures like that, you can hardly expect elephants. But to spice it up I'd like to tell you more about the God of Arsenic Poisoning Counterculture here, but guess you are sick of reading about imbeciles by now. So its got to be US visa next time around. For a change. 

Amen 

The Old Boy(s)

Well I finally went to that Old Boy meeting – it’s a great English tradition after all, yet strange for a school which was singularly set up to take the very Englishness away from the masses. Its not Eaton or Marlborough you know. Its funny when you come to think of it. A schoolboy yesterday – sitting at a classroom taking in the lessons, and today you wake up to find yourself an Old Boy there nearing retirement age in the outside world. And it all never crossed my mind when I was sitting on that bench, one day I’d come here as a mature “nevermind who” with a glass in hand….. Life is a bitch.

So how did it go? Well, some fellers there I never met since I left the school confines. There was one who used to sit next to me and I did not even recognise him. Someone uttered his name and I was filled with a deep sense of shame, I mean we used to sit next to each other, share lunch, take the same bus – yet did not recognise him… I was never the one to remember faces. No kidding, if I were to take the time tunnel I’d not recognise myself 20 years ago. Who the f*** is this obnoxious bastard, I’d ask about myself. You need to go to Oedipus to see worse consequences of not recognising people…

Our boys seem to have done justice for themselves, wondering aimlessly among Lawyers, Medical Directors, Surgeons, Company Directors, Corporate Managers, and whatnot, exchanging greetings and groping desperately to name each face, there was another internal struggle within me. Not recognising them is one thing – there is always some means or an excuse. But introducing myself! What do I say I am now to the company director with a beautiful secretary draped around him? Life is indeed a Bitch.B capital.

Wondering in the wilderness of my blog, written in an informal free style, you’d surely say just tell them who you are, a visa consultant – what’s the complex you got. Another one of you might say Why, is being a visa consultant such a lowly menial job?, Would your girlfriend run off with a better if you said it? Well, its not that bad really, and I could hold my own in any crowd with it, spare the uber-academic. But there is another issue. I never felt comfortable with anything I did, and though I lion it out here on the blog, within such close quarters I’d rather have it they just took me for whoever they painted me out to be. Even a porcupine would do just fine, but what I really am, ah that is a no no. Why? Cause I belong to the Nevermind School, unless there is a professional reason to know otherwise, such as them having a gorgeous kid sister or a sister-in-law for an example…. And in that place, there was little reason to suspect anybody being in possession of either of above two important factors in the edible variety..

All in all, the event went just fine, we had a good time and, yes, I did meet Soosthiya, and a few others too. They have done themselves good, and I pretended to be an oil importer throughout. Relax kids, I know that trade, and I am a fast talker, quick on the draw, cross examining me on oil importing is a re-enactment of Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, with me played by Wyatt Earp.

As you know, I rarely go to these meetings, and I shun crowds. So it was something of a treat for me to be there. And it was of course good to meet so many of my colleagues after all these years, strange experience in the sense I have only seen them in school uniforms whole my life – that is before this day. It was no good talking old things, for I rarely wallow in nostalgia. Besides, there was the nectar of Eden in plenty, Girls? Who needs girls? asked Pinocchio after being treated for that splinter issue, and after a few fillings of l'eau des dieux, I was singing, nostalgia? who the – ok nevermind the other bit – wants it? Fill in the blanks according to your own taste; I am a libertarian, if you please.

And before I sign off, you know I was very young when I was at school, and being in the company of all those school mates indeed did me some good. I felt 20 years young again, and my vision had improved so much, I started to see everything doubled till my next morning shower. The effect of course was very short lived, but it tells me I need to get on more often with these guys if I want my vision improved to that level. Only hindrance to the plan is the routine occurrence of pigs on unexpected points of public highways. I am no Dick Turpin you know, but with some more of that l'eau des dieux and some other stuff which was available, home run at the end of that fine evening had been a highway robbery alright. 

Did I tell you I am good at riding too? Well, make it a point, I just told you. But I rather if you don't try this at home kiddies. I am bit of a lucky devil, sometimes.

Sacred Plant Uncovered

It had been a long night and I slept like a log, dreaming profusely, until the phone rang. A wake up call from an Old Boy from college asking me to join a social event. And he mentioned “Soosthiya” (Pot-Smoker) in passing. So you wake up from a dream adventure into a world of drug induced reality. How is that for starters? Whether Soosthiya actually ever tried pot is a matter of debatable nature, he may have tried it (who hasn’t), but to justify that nickname? No, I guess not. Besides who cares, he is now a prominent doctor around here.

Get dressed, sort out perennial cat issues, come to office. Just a routine operation. But pot smoking is high on my mind. Came here and asked my beautiful secretary to type out something I had written. This is not Sinhalese, I cant read it, she complains. So what does it look like to you, Ethiopian? I retort, yet in my heart I knew she was right, right in the fact that I could never write legibly, not at school, not now, not ever.

And while all that going on I went through a Sinhala SMS, which was equally Amharic to me, despite of legibility of writing. Eureka, pot-smoking, illegible writing resembling Amharic, my dream adventure, and they all fit in! I did not know till I read the SMS. Just like in Philip K. Dick’s story The Builder, where a man builds a boat, at the cost of almost compromising his job, his family life, and his social relations. But he did not know WHY he is building it. He has no idea what it was for. And it rained, a few drops, and he knew. See, a Eureka moment.

Idiots in today’s Sri Lanka associate Bob Marley with ganja. They know jack about what Rastafarianism is all about. Well, if they put an iota of effort spent on looking for ganja at a local library… Bob Marley T-shirt idiots are more deluded unstoned than stoned out Bob Marley ever was.

Why Amharic & Ethiopia? Because my secretary thinks my script is like theirs, secondly because the pot-smoking Rastafarian movement started there. Ras Tafari (Duke Tafari) was the name of HRH Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia. Except they were not the original owners of ganja (a word of Sanskrit origin), or smoking it (Sadhus of India and Sufi of Arab smoked it, in that order, before the Ethiopians found out this lovely experience).   

Lets make things more surreal by looking at how boyhood of Serveus Snape was described in the last Harry Potter book. After all, we are all in a drug induced reality world now, are we not? No, better still, lets transform it to a whole new scenario.

It was a lovely morning in the shire of Bosporus, crispy morning, and three men of different walks of life were gathered near a large playground next to a special seat of education. The Man who smoked pot with the famous & not so famous, wore a grim expression on his face, yet seemed to take things in his stride, and severe looks could not hide the jovial man underneath. The Stocky Man was keeping a close scrutiny over the The Man who smoked pot with the famous & not so famous. He did not seem to bear any ill will, just as well, for The Stocky Man was as strong as an ox. He would effortlessly take two grown sheep under his arms and carry them up the hill, singing to himself all the way. One had not seen him to break any sweat over the daily toil which was quite physically demanding. The Third Man, a man of considerable build, stroked his dark hair which was blowing in the crispy wind. Beautiful morning sun was illuminating the green fields above, beyond that the large park was coming to a new life with beautiful school girls in short(ish) skirts chattering away on their way to school. A blackbird was looking pensively at the gathering. The men looked serious, yet they were not worried. It seemed the matter in hand had some forbearing upon them, but their withers seem to be too high.

So, what had he done to receive a bomb in the first place? I mean we don’t get bombs in post like that, you know, asks The Third Man. Oh, animal testing and all that. I used to go to his lab to clean up the cages you know, says The Stocky Man. The Man who smoked pot with the famous & not so famous presented a tentative smile, it seemed he had a lot to say about these incidents. He looked a bit torn, a struggle within him trying to decide who is right. So, what happened? The Third Man asks. Well they came out and x-rayed it, and the feller said it looked like a tape recorder, not a bomb. What? Quips The Man who smoked pot with the famous & not so famous, this time not being able to hide his surprise and joy that things were back to normal. Yes, he sent it for repairs, and idiots posted it without much mention. We had a Class 01 alert for nothing, says The Stocky Man.  

The men seemed to be satisfied with the way things turned out, they were now more or less settling to do other things, The Man who smoked pot with the famous & not so famous lit a cigarette, he said his dues to his friends, and took a brisk walk up towards his station. And on the way, he paused near the old coiled electrical hulk laying next to a building. Laid to waste, its azure paintwork peeling, and rust has started to appear here and there. The Man who smoked pot with the famous & not so famous did not actually know what it was, but he just used to call it Magnetron – though he well knew it to be anything but. He looked up at the clear skies with birds flying merrily above, and turned towards the building where his work was due. Another day of toil which will go waste.

The skies were bright & clear, a crispy day, yet over the woods in the park, there was a sense of doom in the distant horizon. Dark clouds were forming briskly, and he knew, just like it was day, the dark night will follow. In times like those, when things call for deep contemplation and dissociation from impending peril, a bit of weed could certainly help.

I may not be able to write legibly, and my writing may look like beautiful script of Amharic, and I may or may not have tried the weed. Yet, looking from above the skies, I think I could empathise with The Man who smoked pot with the famous & not so famous.  

Undercover World - unclothed

There has not been much feedback on my last post, Sleeping With The Enemy. We live in a land where Drug Lords are parliamentarians, Prostitutes are popular actresses, Swindlers are TV anchors, and most damning of all, Economic Hitmen are rulers & policy advisers! Someone once said the major shortcoming of democracy is that “Ze rulerz reflect their constituents”. How true.

In the novel 1984, in the land of Oceania, Ministry of Truth is concerned with spreading lies and adjusted history, Ministry of Peace is conducting War, and so on. Pretty depressing if you read it. I was fortunate – only watched the film version and there was one fit bird in that too. Definitely worth it..

Does that mean that many people around us are of duplicitous nature? Surely if drug lords are policy makers who pass laws against drugs, and ministry of truth is really making lies, how about people we meet in everyday life? Could they be really some others, you know. Isaac Asimov wrote a compelling short story titled The Hostess covering a similar theme. They seem to be everywhere, so the situation looks grim form the very outset. Maybe things are better in UK, I am sure, since many people want to go there to claim asylum. Lets see.

In UK, you just can't leave out Mr. Kim and the Cambridge spy ring, can you. Since that happened when I was in senior college, things may have improved a bit by now. Alas, love's labour lost. Good old Blighty hasn't done much better if you believe the news print up there. Ex-wife of police spy tells how she fell in love and had children with him, cries out The Guardian. As we all know, this is taking things one step too far from simply hiding a homing device in your car. This time they have taken matters to WW2 SOE level by sending infiltrators into protest activist groups. Infiltrators themselves have later gone one step too far, like their superiors, and have had sexual relations with their “targets”, started to sympathise with the very cause they went to sabotage, gave evidence at courts to make previous activist convictions unsafe, and so on. Stockholm Syndrome, cries The Guardian. But I could hear Carlton Koon laughing in his grave. I am laughing too, not because Koon is laughing, but because the women involved have now resorted to playing the all too familiar victim card.

Poor girl, a member of Reclaim the Streets (a bunch of idiots who block traffic including ambulances and nice guys like me on the way to meeting television actresses) sat next to someone she thought was nice Mr Jim Sutton at Cock Tavern pub in Euston during an activist meeting. That is, they were preparing the blue print of stopping me from getting to see the actress girl. In short, they met, had a chat, dated, loved, and then got married and had kids too. Both parents being bastards, wonder what the kids will turn out to be when they grow up. Scares the hell out of me. What she did not know was that Jim Sutton was really officer Jim Boyling, a policeman living undercover among eco-activists.

They had some fine times it seems. Yet she now repents, saying things like she felt like a prostitute; just an unknowing and unpaid one. What's there to complain? You should feel bad if you ever felt like a television actress in Sri Lanka, a known & paid prostitute, yet purporting to be a dignified person. This is what Mrs Sutton (sorry, Mrs Boyling) has to say about the fallout: These surveillance operations wreck lives; I was reading stories that this was happening to so many other women who were at risk of falling for their lies; I'd been suffering post traumatic stress for a long time; I wasn't even able to recognise my face in the mirror.

Having read her story, even I am getting to feel sorry for her. No, I have not forgiven you for that traffic incident. How much do you think I suffered not being able to meet the television actress? Things really took a vicious turn when Mr "Sutton" suddenly declared he is going to Turkey, hoping to hitchhike from there to South Africa.

Hitchhike to South Africa? Madam, you wouldn't be in this mire if you simply had the sense to ask the bastard to buy an air ticket. Well, it was not as she was entirely in the dark throughout. She did notice some little things that struck her as a bit odd. Specially for an environmental campaigner. But who would suspect her husband to be an undercover special operations officer! Specially since she admits that for the most part while he was undercover we had a blissfully in-love relationship, poor thing.

Again, in short, after his so called visit to Turkey, the guy simply vanished. She then spent over a year trying to track him down. She tried to locate his family members – people who, it transpired, did not exist – and then travelled to South Africa. He no longer existed in physical presence or on paper, she says. I didn't know what to think or what to do. Just imagine the horror of finding your husband had vanished without a trace from the face of Earth, and worse still, he never existed. Looks exactly like the plot of Asimov's The Hostess. If you are rather into dumb scare genre, you can watch Flightplan (2005, with Jodie Foster).

Well she eventually met him again, purely by chance just like in their very first meeting. Odd for good Mr Sutton, I am not sure if that was really a chance meeting. But we are not into technicalities here you know. Well, they reconciled, he told her the truth, eventually went as far as pointing out other police infiltrators in the activist group, which turned out to be almost everyone in it, and then after a few years they separated, leaving her with two kids who will grow upto be undercover inter-galactic traffic stoppers, purporting to be pilots. Now this is turning to be like the Star Wars' Anakin Skywalkers boyhood plot.

Another undercover police informer, officer Mark Kennedy had taken a similar path and screwd up his superiors big time. He went as far as taking activists in another such group to a power station to shut it down, and promptly got arrested by his fellow officers who were unaware of his true identity! What juice bits are there in his memoirs (with actress kind), I do not yet know. But he too gave away a female undercover officer, Lynn Watson posing as an environmental activist for five years, claiming to be a care worker living in Bournemouth. Was there anyone in these groups who were really environmentalists? I am beginning to think that “the others” are working for some other operational entity, faking it to look like duped innocents, entirely under the nose of Met super brains. Serves them right.

Talking about being served, it has come to my attention that His Holiness The Dalai Lama refused to judge the food on MasterChef, a TV programme in Australia. That was because As a Buddhist monk it is not right to prefer this food or that food, according to His Holiness. This was after him accepting to partake as a judge in the first place. What on earth is going on here? Is everyone around us not really what they say they are? Since the Dalai Lama does not recommend any food, we will have to wait till that Mark Kennedy feller publishes his book for the tasty juicy bits.

A comment on The Guardian runs: Mr Llama was asked to appear on the UK version, but declined on the grounds that "that mr wallace fellow is a right twat"

Mr Llama should have reserved his adjective for describing the Met superiors. And, ah, do mind the spellings, no disrespect intended, by me or the OP.

Sleeping With The Enemy (1948 - Present)

Girls & Boys of Manchester, today I am (not) going to talk about the film, Sleeping With The Enemy, with Julia Roberts as the star vehicle (1991). It was a good romance film, albeit a bit unrealistic with stereotype characters etc. Yet, with a beer on the short table and a lovely girl draped around, well, with those things at your disposal....

Lets get to the point here. I never knew – before today, that is- being a visa consultant could be a job as tough as being on the front line of a war. Sometime back in this country there was a terrorist problem that had caused utmost grief to all its inhabitants. As is the case with all other wars, there were many who held questionable loyalties. Lord Haw-Haw, Irish Super-grass, and even recent Al- Quaida informants could be included if you make your blanket wide enough.

But the guy who came here today was certainly a strange sort of a bird. I mean, how could you go to the opposition camp when you fully know these are the same people who butchered small children? No I am not talking of Tony Blair, he ordered to butcher kids of other nations. Good old Cherry & Tony did not ask anyone to come here butcher English kids (well, they did not need to, their foreign policy accomplished that end without fail). Now this guy here is different. He volunteered to go among the people who took suckling infants off their mother's breasts and dashed them against walls – just as the Bible asked you to... (Kings 8:12-13; Luke 19:44; Isaiah 13:16, Lost count).

Well, the nice friends of this gentleman went a bit further than ripping open pregnant women. They kindly deposited infants on hot flat-pans (rotti-thatiya) on fire, so the infant will slowly roast to death. I am sure even some Old Testament prophets will be amazed by the deeds of these people. Now, some people, like Tony Blair, who rained missiles on whatever that moved, can find solace in the fact that these were other people's children. But your own?

OK nevermind the technicalities, as always. The courts have acquitted these people, authorities are satisfied, the police accepted facts, and so on. Simply, they are free. Well, living in a civilised age, I am not the one to lead a lynch mob to “put things right”, and if the courts acquit, hell with it, I concur!

People outside of X might say that is a strange sort of justice, specially considering the reputation of justice system of the country X. Well, I say you are all wrong. Country X has a very strong and very faire judicial system. Good citizens of X send drug dealers into their parliament, send people openly involved in protection rackets to local government councils, have tolerated opposing voices being tortured in prisons on trumped up charges, their religious leaders openly bless those who openly steal public monies, they send police to beat women workers in trade zones with sticks, have given grand applause when parliamentary representatives switch sides, have approved and encouraged murderers to get seats in the parliament, and so on.

No they do not stop there. Yes, I know you are saying, please, this is enough. Not for the denizens of X, who have elected leaders who have taken part in killing their own children! I am serious here, in that country, the Country X, top order is made up of those who actually liaised with the gentlemen who put infants on hot flat-pans to roast to death.

When their leaders are such, could you blame citizens for sleeping with the enemy?

When corruption, deception, and glorification of barbarity is the norm, average citizen loses his moral compass. Like those Jews who supported Hitler, or like those went to war to “protect” the empire which took their land & killed parents, average citizen becomes a zombie who cant tell right from wrong.

And what do they do?

They send their young daughters to sleep with the enemy. And when that does not suffice, they take daughters away and go sleep themselves (with the enemy!).

The moral of the story: Throw away your moral compass, or you won't fit in here.

Poor Citizens of X. Ah, by the way, I still got mine in good working order. How about you?

Hit me baby one more time

OK I got a new printer, another HP piece of shit – mainly because they are cheap, secondly since HP has invested serious technologies to make sure you won't be using it for too long. The ink cartridges come with chips to tell you they are out of ink before they actually run dry, making you buy new ones when the old ones still have life in them. Before I forget, they come with a soak pit to collect force drained ink, when the pit is full your printer is screwed. I found out some more info on how to get even with the HP suckers – last one I used for two odd years done enough with home refilled cartridges, and its going to repair shop. Listen here you bastards at HP, I am getting even. Its a consumable arms race and I am evolving too.

Now HP has not been like this always, in my impoverished student days, they sold some good workhorse printers which went on for ever. And I still hot-wired them. Did you hear that you French-polishing rollos at HP? Yes, screw you, I am going to hot-wire this one too if I can.

Someone complained I use too many dirty words on this blog lately. Relax, its just for fun. In Smells like teen spirit Kurt Cobain sings “she's overboard and self assured” and other references about teen spirit (though the words are not sung in the song), which was a perfume worn by ladies and some “other” ladies – was he actually referring to his ex? Or was this incoherent, meaningless song with words like “oh well, whatever, nevermind” all about very short attention span of the GenX – still better than Twitter? Now you know where the nevermind bits came from in the last few posts. Actually, really I was paying my respects to late Kurt Cobain.

You think I write dirty words? Listen to the song, Kurt sings “Oh, no, I know a dirty word”, “Hello, how low”, “with the lights out its less dangerous”, “I feel stupid and contagious”, “I found it hard, hard to find” - followed by that nevermind bit, “A denial” ten times.

And do you now know what I know a dirty word is? What do you think he is doing with Teen Spirit wearing girlfriend with the lights out, and how low it could be, its not that hard to find, specially if they are in denial afterwards and its not going to last too long. Just ask Bill Clinton, the expert, he will tell you all about it, or take one look at Hilary's face and you will know.

And you say I use dirty words! Bastards is not a dirty word, its clearly in law, in the bible, and is a term used to describe HP executives by their own mothers. Are these establishments dirty too?

And I did not invent Hit me baby one more time either, Britney Spears sang it, well she had first hand experience at the hands of her ex, a point which Eminem made only too clear in his Real Slim Shady, really he intended PamAm rather. I was just asking the HP fellows.... to hit me one more time with their cheap printers.

Weird way of putting things is it? Ah just go and read some Canada visa refusal letter and you will see what a really weird individual's writing is. Oh, no, not the old faithful UK deputy HC in Chennai, they are just plain stupid. That level of stupidity can only come from inheritance through some really weird practice. I wonder if they all look a bit, you know, alike.

But then again, having their kids named Pilot Inspektor (Jason Lee), Wednesday (nevermind who, there is a dozen), Apple (Gwyneth Poltrow), Kyd (David Duchovny), and Sage Moonblood (Sylvester Stallone), celebrities are the real weirdos, if not the ones with dirty minds.

As for me, I am living in the land of 1984 Oceania – where the sun never rises, gods throw arsenic in well water, ports where no ship calls, and power generation plants make no electricity...

Ah, I am just a fine guy you know. Just about perfect. Poor Kurt, you had the wrong thing blown this time, big time. 

Walkin on sunshine

It had been a hectic day for me. Firstly, the HP printer packed in and took my morning with it. Neither Mr Hewlett nor Mr Packard was anywhere I could find for a nice casual chat about birds, bees, and flowers. And you know that topic, specially when your whole morning is – OK nevermind, just add the words as you go by.

Then I came to office and the dreaded UK Visa form was waiting for me there. If your main reason for visiting the UK is to see family you must complete this form,it says on top. Now lets weigh things out. Are these guys going to meet family or to see the country? Oh maybe the daughter there – oh wait! She was here two months ago. They are going to see Wales! But they intend to tag their daughter along and she is sponsoring... Lets toss a coin on this, for this is beyond me.

Could the people behind this form be divinely inspired too? Cause I know the bunch at Chennai are prize winning “technical bastards”, and there is no way I could work out which form to fill, you know who on the other end will go nit picking and will write “I understand family visits are important.... But it strikes me that your main purpose of visit is tourism...”

And you tell me to work this out without inspiration. If you do, then you haven't dealt with UK Deputy High Commission in Chennai. Things were not going well, and my clients were getting impatient – they think I could divine things out without seeing any documentation. Anyway its resolved and they pay the fat fee and depart with hopes. Good luck mates.

Enter the people who think we are a 24/7 on call Samaritan help line. Can this day get any worse? Some quickie and they are off too. My poor secretary was sweating, me at the end of my tether, and here comes a call from a potential customer. It turns out he needs to go to Canada and has a business plan ready for us too. What is this business plan? Find him clients for a commission – “you could have customers interested in....” No we are sorry, we don't have customers interested in your services, besides we are not a job agency, says my PA. Off he goes, with some apologies. Things were not looking bright indeed.

Lets go for a fag and some coffee I think. And the mobile rings at the most inconvenient moment, fag in one hand and the coffee in the other I need a third hand to get the phone. “Here hold this for a moment, and don't stick your mouth in there for I don't know what was in it last night” I tell the person next to me for I need to free a hand to get the phone. “Hello, this is blah blah..” turns out some nice people with a nubile daughter interested in me as a potential scape goat to take over their karma. Lets be nice, though I cant be a million miles from being Mr Nice right now. “OK, OK, OK, thank you, sure I'll be there”. There goes my afternoon too.

Made a quick lunch, returned to office to type out the visa letter for our good customer who thinks we are Samaritan help line. Over with that too. Its 3.10, and need to be at the young lady's place soon. Lets get moving, and arrived there in the nick of time. Do I have a plan here? I mean what am I going to talk to them? Well its not going to be about birds and bees as I feared they might already know these things by now, besides I already had that conversation with Messrs Hewlett & Packard this morning, telling them what it feels like to be s****** early in the morning by a cheap printer.

They turned out to be a nice bunch despite of my initial misgivings. Girl was OK too, mind you. Just that I was past caring. Usually I am quite good at these situations, except I was not myself this day, after that accursed printer did my day in this morn. Where do I start? Nice Teddy bear you have there.. no that's a non-starter. What a nice dress you have on there – they might think I am a sex maniac, ogling all that even before things get rolling. Finally I settled on (Baruch) Spinoza, I know, but I just didn't know any better. It turned out the poor girl did not even know if Spinoza was vegetable or mineral. Shit.

Well there is a silver streak in every dark cloud – and you'd sure find it when the lightning strikes you. So I come home before 6.00, which was good. And what did I find there? The two cat bastards have ventured into the nearby bush and have to fetch them from there.

Change dress and off I go into the spotted viper infested bush to cajole them to come home for dinner. Guess what, they thought I was sport and had the time of their lives at my expense.

Once in a book titled That's Life, I read an article aptly titled Wilde East. It tells you all about train robberies and accident fatalities in India and advices you “next time when you wait on the platform and see that next from Clapham Junction is 5 minutes late, and curse, just thank gods you are not in India.” Valuable advice indeed, except I was waiting for the spotted viper to make a social call....

And you thought you had a bad day