Look at that Christine Lagarde, Wicked Witch of The West. What gives her the right to give Nawaz Sharif’s government the thumbs up? I asked this very question in front of my core committee. “She’s the head of the IMF”, they all chimed in. “IMF? How do you spell that?” I asked.
The entire core committee looked at the ceiling fan.
Anyway, I’m going to ring her boss, who I presume is President Barack Obama and give him a piece of my teeny weeny mind. “Er, ahem. President Obama is not her boss”, Shah Mahmud Qureshi cleared his throat and informed me. “Well then I’ll call her myself and protest like there’s no tomorrow, which in her case, let’s face it, there isn’t. I mean, no tomorrow for an ancient woman with white hair”.
I can’t wait for November 2, and the immediate imposition of Martial Law, and once The November Revolution has taken place, I’ll go and spend the Christmas hols with the boys in London.
But I’m not staying at my former ma-in-law’s this time. Last Christmas Lady Annabel shattered so many of my dreams. When I was searching for my presents beneath the Christmas tree, she asked, “what is it, Im-ran?” “There are no presents. Hasn’t Santa come?” “Im-ran, sit down. There’s something I have to tell you”. “Oh, what is it? Doesn’t Santa like me?” “Uh, Im-ran, Santa doesn’t exist”.
“NO! That can’t be!” “Really, it’s true”, Lady Annabel said. “Where do the presents come from then?” I asked. “We have to buy them ourselves, wrap them up and put them under the tree”. “Oh, duh, that’s ridDICKulous!”
“And Im-ran, while we’re at it, you know when your tooth falls out and you put it under the pillow for the Tooth Fairy and she takes it and leaves 50p?” “Yes?” “Well, I’m the person that leaves the 50p”. “Oh, so you mean you’re a fairy?”
“No-o-o, I’m not a fairy, Im-ran. And you know the red & yellow MacDonald’s clown? He doesn’t exist either….”
Oh noooo …!!
The entire core committee looked at the ceiling fan.
Anyway, I’m going to ring her boss, who I presume is President Barack Obama and give him a piece of my teeny weeny mind. “Er, ahem. President Obama is not her boss”, Shah Mahmud Qureshi cleared his throat and informed me. “Well then I’ll call her myself and protest like there’s no tomorrow, which in her case, let’s face it, there isn’t. I mean, no tomorrow for an ancient woman with white hair”.
I can’t wait for November 2, and the immediate imposition of Martial Law, and once The November Revolution has taken place, I’ll go and spend the Christmas hols with the boys in London.
But I’m not staying at my former ma-in-law’s this time. Last Christmas Lady Annabel shattered so many of my dreams. When I was searching for my presents beneath the Christmas tree, she asked, “what is it, Im-ran?” “There are no presents. Hasn’t Santa come?” “Im-ran, sit down. There’s something I have to tell you”. “Oh, what is it? Doesn’t Santa like me?” “Uh, Im-ran, Santa doesn’t exist”.
“NO! That can’t be!” “Really, it’s true”, Lady Annabel said. “Where do the presents come from then?” I asked. “We have to buy them ourselves, wrap them up and put them under the tree”. “Oh, duh, that’s ridDICKulous!”
“And Im-ran, while we’re at it, you know when your tooth falls out and you put it under the pillow for the Tooth Fairy and she takes it and leaves 50p?” “Yes?” “Well, I’m the person that leaves the 50p”. “Oh, so you mean you’re a fairy?”
“No-o-o, I’m not a fairy, Im-ran. And you know the red & yellow MacDonald’s clown? He doesn’t exist either….”
Oh noooo …!!
Im the Dim