Having conquered the UN with my seven hour speech (which was demolished by India’s Second Secretary at the UN Mission in seven minutes) and to which all my sidekicks responded with thunderous applause (given that no one else cared a hoot), I returned home to Islamabad and began my 107th reshuffle of the cabinet. “You will now hear my new decisions” I declared to my cupboard, sorry cabinet, “and these will be final until they are not”. SMQ had the temerity to ask me timorously, “Your Most Exalted Conquering Majesty of the United Nations, what do you mean final until they are not?” I looked at him as one does a child who, despite one’s best efforts, has learning disabilities and spoke to him thus too, “My. Dear. Foreign. Minister. My. Decisions. Are. Final. And. Ones. To. Which. I. Remain. Firmly. Committed. Until. I. Take. Another. U-Turn. Comprendo?”
To which he replied in the affirmative.
I also informed my cabinet that My Best Soulmate (let’s call him MBS for short) doesn’t like the fact that I like Iran. “Can anyone please explain to me why that is?” To this there was a long and stunned silence. I looked up and down the array of my 229 cabinet ministers and everyone was staring at the ceiling or looking intently out of the window or glaring at their protruding stomachs. “Well”, I asked, “speak up, speak up. Why does MBS not like me liking the Iranians? They’re very nice. And anyway, why can’t I like them if I want to?” Again a stunned silence. I turned to SMQ. He finally stammered, “Your B-b-brazenly B-b-b-brilliant Highness, it’s the Houthiyas who are like our own insolent Youthias”. “What about the Houthiyas? They are the world’s poorest country fighting one of the world’s richest countries. And look at how plucky they are. Like Robin Hood and his Band of Merry Men. By the way, where’s Maid Marianne?” There must be a million cracks in that room’s ceiling because ALL my 229 ministers couldn’t take their eyes off the roof until I gave up and left the building.
To which he replied in the affirmative.
I also informed my cabinet that My Best Soulmate (let’s call him MBS for short) doesn’t like the fact that I like Iran. “Can anyone please explain to me why that is?” To this there was a long and stunned silence. I looked up and down the array of my 229 cabinet ministers and everyone was staring at the ceiling or looking intently out of the window or glaring at their protruding stomachs. “Well”, I asked, “speak up, speak up. Why does MBS not like me liking the Iranians? They’re very nice. And anyway, why can’t I like them if I want to?” Again a stunned silence. I turned to SMQ. He finally stammered, “Your B-b-brazenly B-b-b-brilliant Highness, it’s the Houthiyas who are like our own insolent Youthias”. “What about the Houthiyas? They are the world’s poorest country fighting one of the world’s richest countries. And look at how plucky they are. Like Robin Hood and his Band of Merry Men. By the way, where’s Maid Marianne?” There must be a million cracks in that room’s ceiling because ALL my 229 ministers couldn’t take their eyes off the roof until I gave up and left the building.
Im the Dim