Culinary is spelled with a C

Monday mornings are never my forte. I know it'll be another 6 days before some kind man takes pity on me and buggers me senseless in some crusty backroom. All I can look forward to is the sight of those awful office girls, their fat dripping through their ridiculous outfits. And, of course, of my beloved assistant B.

To everyone else, B. is a wonderful colleague: trustworthy, intelligent, sweet, patient, efficient, enthusiastic and what not. All you'd ever want from your assistant. To me, he's the epitomy of Englishness: boring, emasculated, unimaginative, predictable, obedient, did I mention boring? I feel I am stuck in a sexless marriage with a boring woman that I cannot evade, mainly because no one else would (metaphorically) iron my shirts every day of the week, Sunday included.

So, in response to this unbearable situation, or simply to spice up my days, I like to remind B. who the boss is (that's me, just in case you were wondering...).

B.: Yum...! (he murmurs, opening a lunch box)
Me: What's THAT?!?! (recoiling in horror)
B.: That... what?
Me: THAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!!!!!! (pointing in disgust at the contents of the aforementioned lunch box)
B.: Do you mean the baked beans?
Me: NO! I MEAN THAT HORRID RED VOMIT IN YOUR LUNCH BOX!!!!!!!
B.: It's not vomit! These are baked beans. They're good for you!
Me: Good my ASS! Listen to me, boy. I come from a CULTURE with THOUSANDS OF YEARS of culinary history. You come from one that barely knows the difference between parsley and chicken. Don't think for a moment that YOU can tell ME what is GOOD!!!!!
B.: But...
Me: SHUT UP! The point is that what you are about to eat is SHIT!!! Would you feed SHIT to your brain, eh? Would you?
B.: ...
Me: I'll tell you! NO! You wouldn't! So why would you feed shit to your body instead, eh? Eh?

I am particularly proud of the last argument, which really made me feel quite smug. I usually use it with Italians, but the other way round, telling them to stop feeding shit to their brains, the way they would never feed shit to their bodies. Anyway, in the end B. was adamant he'd eat his beans, so I made him leave the room and return only when they'd no longer offend my eyesight.

Lesson for you plebs: If you want the message to reach its audience, make sure it is culturally sensitive!

At the Airport

I arrived at the airport well-before the flight. One entire hour, minute less, minute more. With all this ridiculous hoo-ha about security in airports, they expect us to arrive 3 hours before departure. Like I have this kind of time to spare, honestly! What do they expect.

So I turn up at the Kenya Airways check-in, sweating lightly.

- Good afternoon, sir! Where will you be travelling today sir?
- To Nairobi.
- You mean on the 8:45 leaving in 40 minutes, sir? (ok, not quite one hour beforehand, but still...!)
- That's right. Hurry up because I don't want to miss it.
- I am sorry sir, but check-in is closed for this flight. You should have arrived 3 hour...
- WHAT!!?!?!
- I am saying, sir...
- I DON'T GIVE A F*** WHAT YOU ARE SAYING. GET ME ON THIS FLIGHT NOW!!!
- But sir, I really...
- I AM AN IMPORTANT... VERY IMPORTANT DELEGATE TO THE WORLD SOCIAL FORUM? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?!?!? DO YOU KNOW YOUR COUNTRY IS HOSTING IT AND BECAUSE OF YOU I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO TAKE PART IN THIS HUGELY IMPORTANT EVENT?!?!? OF WHICH I AM POSSIBLY THE MOST IMPORTANT UK REPRESENTATIVE?!?!?!
- I am sorry sir, but airport regulations...
- I REALLY DON'T GIVE A F*** ABOUT AIRPORT REGULATIONS!! THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED TO ME WITH BRITISH AIRWAYS!! FOR ONCE THAT I TRUST AND GIVE MY MONEY TO AN AFRICAN AIRLINE, THIS IS HOW YOU PAY ME BACK!?!?!?!
- Sir, I am not in a position...
- ARE YOU GOING TO LET ME ON BOARD OR NOT!??!?!?!?
- I am sorry sir... but...
- FINE! LET ME TELL YOU, I'LL MAKE SURE NO UK ORGANISATION, EVER, EVER AGAIN, BOOKS WITH KENYA AIRWAYS. I'LL CALL *** WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR ARRANGING TRAVEL FOR ALL THE UK CHARITIES AND NGOS, AND MAKE SURE YOU ARE OFF THEIR LISTS. YOU BETTER START LOOKING FOR ANOTHER JOB, MY FRIEND. AND IF AFRICA REMAINS UNDERDEVELOPED, YOU ONLY HAVE YOURSELVES TO BLAME!!!

I know, perhaps the last line was a bit out of context. But guess what? They didn't make me pay a penny to reschedule the flight to the following day!

Lesson for you plebs: Provided you are loud enough, and pretend to be important enough, sooner or later no security rule will apply to you! Fabulous!

On 9/11

Over dinner, 2 days ago, with P and A:

P: So what did you feel when those planes flew into the World Trade Center?
Me: Nothing. Nothing at all.
P: ...!
Me: Well, actually, I went to download some porn with some Arab guys in it and wanked.
P: ...!!!
Me: WHAT!?!?
P: You're a monster!!!
Me: WHY!!??! Tell me, for example: do you ever desire to possess your girlfriend in an unnatural manner?
P: ??
A: He means bugger her.
P: Oh... well, no, not really... why?
Me: See? You don't want to penetrate her from behind. I didn’t feel a thing on 9/11. Same thing.

Hello World!!!

I am so excited about my new blog toy, I might actually hump somebody...