At the last dharna, I decided, instead of raving and ranting about Nawaz Sharif, to just sit and chat with my young followers. They asked me what life was like when I was a boy. “What kind of fast food did you have?” “We didn’t have fast food. All the food was slow”, I said. They were flabbergasted. “Seriously, Khan Sahab? So where did you eat?” “We ate at a place called ‘home’, food cooked by a person called “Ami’”. Many of the kids high-fived each other, “We’re so lucky. We don’t have to eat food cooked by Ami. And pizza can get to our homes faster than an ambulance.”
As usual, there were lots of British Pakistani youthias in the throng. Our dharnas have become a tourist attraction. One of them asked about heart disease, “Fing is, Khan Sahab, more an more of our elders in Britain are gettin’ art disease an they’re blamin’ it on us. They say it’s because the girls are in shore skirts and eye eels”. Aah, I sighed, short skirts and high heels. “An because the boys are too leffargic to go out an work”. Aah, I sighed, how nice to be lethargic. “An because more often van not, they’re wonnid ba the police”. Aah, I know the feeling, to be wanted by the police. “But we fink they’re zajjeratin’”. Are they exaggerating? “Yeah, coz we’ve told them a fazzand toimes ta gwow up an smell the coff eye”. Aaah, yes, I suppose soon my sons will be telling me a thousand times to grow up and smell the coffee.
On and on the Brit-Paks went: “We fink our elders are gettin’ art attacks because they’re still eatin’ aloo gosht and parathas, whereas they should be eatin’ salad. The only fing they’ve learnt is English. They’ve actually pushed up the art disease rate in Britain. The Japanese eat very little fat an suffer fewer art attacks than us. Russians eat a lotta fat an suffer fewer art attacks than us. Choinese drink very little wine and suffer fewer art attacks than us. The French smoke an drink a lot and suffer fewer art attacks than us. So wot is it, if not aloo gosht?”
I replied, “You can eat and drink what you like. It’s speaking English that kills you.”
As usual, there were lots of British Pakistani youthias in the throng. Our dharnas have become a tourist attraction. One of them asked about heart disease, “Fing is, Khan Sahab, more an more of our elders in Britain are gettin’ art disease an they’re blamin’ it on us. They say it’s because the girls are in shore skirts and eye eels”. Aah, I sighed, short skirts and high heels. “An because the boys are too leffargic to go out an work”. Aah, I sighed, how nice to be lethargic. “An because more often van not, they’re wonnid ba the police”. Aah, I know the feeling, to be wanted by the police. “But we fink they’re zajjeratin’”. Are they exaggerating? “Yeah, coz we’ve told them a fazzand toimes ta gwow up an smell the coff eye”. Aaah, yes, I suppose soon my sons will be telling me a thousand times to grow up and smell the coffee.
On and on the Brit-Paks went: “We fink our elders are gettin’ art attacks because they’re still eatin’ aloo gosht and parathas, whereas they should be eatin’ salad. The only fing they’ve learnt is English. They’ve actually pushed up the art disease rate in Britain. The Japanese eat very little fat an suffer fewer art attacks than us. Russians eat a lotta fat an suffer fewer art attacks than us. Choinese drink very little wine and suffer fewer art attacks than us. The French smoke an drink a lot and suffer fewer art attacks than us. So wot is it, if not aloo gosht?”
I replied, “You can eat and drink what you like. It’s speaking English that kills you.”
Im the Dim