I called a meeting of the diplomatic corps in Islamabad and told them that they were looking at a Prime Minister-in-Waiting. For I am going to be sworn in the day Nawaz Sharif is thrown out. “Where are you from?” asked a Scandinavian ambassador, “Uranus?” She was a woman, obviously, therefore of inferior intellect. I told her patiently, as one would a child, “I. Am. From. Pakistan. Where. The. Corrupt. Nawaz. Sharif. Is. Prime. Minister”. “And what are you going to do about it?” asked the stubborn woman. I replied patiently, “When I come to power, I’ll end corruption. I’ll pay everyone a monthly stipend for not accepting bribes. How much people are paid will depend on the original bribe. I’ll issue ‘stay clean’ coupons. Once you have a hundred coupons, you’ll get a badge. Once you’ve got five badges, you’ll get a car. And so on all the way up to a house, and eventually a flat in London. That’ll finish corruption in Pakistan forever.”
The woman ambassador harrumphed and sat down. I had half a mind (that’s all I have) to throw her out of the meeting but I ignored her and sent everyone away. Then I went off to sleep.
I must’ve had Scandinavia on the brain for I dreamt that King Carl Gustav was giving me the Nobel Prize for Literature. He said would you like to take the floor. I said no thanks, all I want to take is the Nobel Prize money. He said, “say a few words, for God’s sake”. So I said the following words: “hello”, “good morning”, “new dawn”, “naya Pakistan”. King Carl Gustav looked at the ceiling, and said through gritted teeth, “Please say something meaningful”. So, I put on a tape I’d got by chatting up a PIA airhostess: “When yellow mask falls down, smoke but do not inhale”. Silly cow had given me the wrong tape, and here I was going to make her my speechwriter.
Then my dream went on and the airhostess appeared, asking if I wanted lunch. I said sure, can I have some biryani? She said of course, and what would you like for dessert? A tart? I was shocked, “are you mad? Here? On a PIA plane?”
The woman ambassador harrumphed and sat down. I had half a mind (that’s all I have) to throw her out of the meeting but I ignored her and sent everyone away. Then I went off to sleep.
I must’ve had Scandinavia on the brain for I dreamt that King Carl Gustav was giving me the Nobel Prize for Literature. He said would you like to take the floor. I said no thanks, all I want to take is the Nobel Prize money. He said, “say a few words, for God’s sake”. So I said the following words: “hello”, “good morning”, “new dawn”, “naya Pakistan”. King Carl Gustav looked at the ceiling, and said through gritted teeth, “Please say something meaningful”. So, I put on a tape I’d got by chatting up a PIA airhostess: “When yellow mask falls down, smoke but do not inhale”. Silly cow had given me the wrong tape, and here I was going to make her my speechwriter.
Then my dream went on and the airhostess appeared, asking if I wanted lunch. I said sure, can I have some biryani? She said of course, and what would you like for dessert? A tart? I was shocked, “are you mad? Here? On a PIA plane?”
Im the Dim