Nathiagali is the perfect place to spend Ramzan. Which reminds me, England’s captain Morgan called me and said, “I say, Im-ran, who’s this Ramzan chap?” I replied, “Sorry? Who?” “Yes, and who’s Barkat?” “Sorry? Who?” “Everyone’s saying Pakistan’s winning because of the Barkat of Ramzan.”
Well, what can I say? I mean I dare not confess that here I was, hoping they’d lose because then I could’ve vented my spleen against Najam Sethi again. Of course I don’t have the grace to admit that the new blood from the Pakistan Super League – Sethi’s work – has injected this fervor into Team Pakistan. Now waiting eagerly for them to lose at the Finals, so that I can bitch out Sethi again.
I’ve got my lines rehearsed for that occasion: what do you call a world-class Pakistani cricketer? Retired! And it’s all Sethi’s fault. What do you call a Pakistani who can hold a catch? A fisherman. And it’s all Sethi’s fault. What’s the difference between Cinderella and Pakistani batsmen? Cinderella knew when to leave the ball. And – you guessed it! It’s. All. Sethi’s. Fault!
I didn’t even bother to watch the Cardiff semi-final. So many phateechar and relukatta players – not like Patrician, Aitchisonian, Oxonian “ME”! But I did send my spy to the match. Sadly, he went to the toilet and missed England’s entire innings. What a stupid LBW for England – Lost, Beaten and Walloped. When Captain Morgan asked what kind of coach I could recommend for the England team, I said “a long distance one”.
Also watching the Supreme Court’s proceedings with an eagle eye from my perch in Nathia. So, Nawaz Sharif appeared before the JIT?? What’s the big deal? Didn’t Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto appear before the Courts? And he was fighting for his life, on a trumped up charge. C’mon Pakistan! Give me credit for hounding Nawaz to the Courts!
And for those of you who think I’m dim, I just want you to know that I finished making a puzzle in six days. Yes, 6 days – when the cover said it was “4 to 5 years”.
Im the Dim
Well, what can I say? I mean I dare not confess that here I was, hoping they’d lose because then I could’ve vented my spleen against Najam Sethi again. Of course I don’t have the grace to admit that the new blood from the Pakistan Super League – Sethi’s work – has injected this fervor into Team Pakistan. Now waiting eagerly for them to lose at the Finals, so that I can bitch out Sethi again.
I’ve got my lines rehearsed for that occasion: what do you call a world-class Pakistani cricketer? Retired! And it’s all Sethi’s fault. What do you call a Pakistani who can hold a catch? A fisherman. And it’s all Sethi’s fault. What’s the difference between Cinderella and Pakistani batsmen? Cinderella knew when to leave the ball. And – you guessed it! It’s. All. Sethi’s. Fault!
I didn’t even bother to watch the Cardiff semi-final. So many phateechar and relukatta players – not like Patrician, Aitchisonian, Oxonian “ME”! But I did send my spy to the match. Sadly, he went to the toilet and missed England’s entire innings. What a stupid LBW for England – Lost, Beaten and Walloped. When Captain Morgan asked what kind of coach I could recommend for the England team, I said “a long distance one”.
Also watching the Supreme Court’s proceedings with an eagle eye from my perch in Nathia. So, Nawaz Sharif appeared before the JIT?? What’s the big deal? Didn’t Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto appear before the Courts? And he was fighting for his life, on a trumped up charge. C’mon Pakistan! Give me credit for hounding Nawaz to the Courts!
And for those of you who think I’m dim, I just want you to know that I finished making a puzzle in six days. Yes, 6 days – when the cover said it was “4 to 5 years”.
Im the Dim