I’m so disappointed with the Queen. Instead of sending the British Army to Scotland to crush their bid for independence, she allowed the Scots to hold a referendum. I couldn’t give a damn about the outcome. All I know is that the British Army should now wear skirts like the Scots. What are they called? Oh yes, quilts. And what’ll happen to poor Nessie, the Loch Ness monster? I suppose she’ll have to go and live in the Lake District. Or I might invite her to come and live in Rawal Dam where I’ll keep an eye on her from my palace in Bani Gala.
Which reminds me, how I’d love to dump these aunties and go and chill at Bani Gala. Instead of which, here I am stuck on my container having a nightly rave. And rant. But as you know, I’m a great egotist and I never give up. Javed Hashmi kept telling me that Pasha & Co were in no position to deliver. I said don’t be silly. I’ve got a wink and a nod. That’s not enough, he persisted. Don’t worry, I said. Hashmi kept on: do you remember what Napoleon said about the Pope? No, I sighed, I don’t. He said: how many divisions does the Pope command? What does that mean, I asked. Sigh, said Hashmi, that’s what I thought. And then Sheikh Rashid pushed him off the container.
Pukka sahib that I am, this Scottish thing’s really bothering me. I rang the Queen on her private number. “Your Majesty, I hope you’re completely impartial in this matter”, I said. “Nay comment,” she said, “nigh get orff the phone”. I really feel sorry for Her Majesty. Jem tells me the royal family’s running out of money. That was bound to happen since no one in the clan’s worked for a thousand years. Anyway, when I was in my cricketing days, HM invited me to tea at Buckingham Palace and gave me a signed photograph of herself in a silver frame. I apologized for not bringing her a gift, “Sorry, Your Majesty. I didn’t know what to get for you because you wear the same clothes every day and your only hobby is waving.”
Which reminds me, how I’d love to dump these aunties and go and chill at Bani Gala. Instead of which, here I am stuck on my container having a nightly rave. And rant. But as you know, I’m a great egotist and I never give up. Javed Hashmi kept telling me that Pasha & Co were in no position to deliver. I said don’t be silly. I’ve got a wink and a nod. That’s not enough, he persisted. Don’t worry, I said. Hashmi kept on: do you remember what Napoleon said about the Pope? No, I sighed, I don’t. He said: how many divisions does the Pope command? What does that mean, I asked. Sigh, said Hashmi, that’s what I thought. And then Sheikh Rashid pushed him off the container.
Pukka sahib that I am, this Scottish thing’s really bothering me. I rang the Queen on her private number. “Your Majesty, I hope you’re completely impartial in this matter”, I said. “Nay comment,” she said, “nigh get orff the phone”. I really feel sorry for Her Majesty. Jem tells me the royal family’s running out of money. That was bound to happen since no one in the clan’s worked for a thousand years. Anyway, when I was in my cricketing days, HM invited me to tea at Buckingham Palace and gave me a signed photograph of herself in a silver frame. I apologized for not bringing her a gift, “Sorry, Your Majesty. I didn’t know what to get for you because you wear the same clothes every day and your only hobby is waving.”
Im the Dim