Sick sick racist

I have a fever and not the (alleged) good kind. I am coughing, my lips are pouty and red, I am paler (apparently such a thing IS possible, who knew?) and I was running so low on sleep yesterday (because I did not get to bed until 4 am as I was in so much pain. I knew I was coming down with something. I cannot even concentrate on my essay let alone attempt to comprehend the musings of the late great Edward Said) that I ached in every part of my body and ended up with the biggest migraine after a 12 hour shift. By the time the train arrived at Queen’s Park station I was on the phone to my sister crying to get my father to pick me up as I was near to collapsing. My very public and very embarrassing breakdown obviously alerted him to the seriousness of the situation because he made it there in record time. Bless him.

I arrived home safely thanks to the world’s sweetest man and my mother made me drink some sort of God awful Arab housewife medicine type remedy that I would never have said yes to if I had been in my right mind. I was also coerced into having lentil soup (which I NEVER have for reasons I shall not bore you with).

The good news is that I did not collapse.

I clearly deserve a gold star, maybe two, for being such a hero.

In other news, although I ranted about Waity Katie in my last blog post and what I have to say is mildly linked to her, this has squat all to do with the *Big Event* and so I shall proceed.

If you have not come across an article regarding the matter, it was only covered by the usual suspects, it was reported that Emma Sayle (who?), a friend of our likely future Queen, updated her facebook status so that it read “just had a two-hour shooting lesson. She will now be using this skill on the top of East London high rises to help with the UK's illegal immigrant problem”. A facebook ‘friend’ took offence to this and contacted the police who then hauled her in for questioning.

Ms. Sayle was unashamed and later wrote “just had a call from the old bill demanding I go in as someone has reported me for apparently making racist comments... hahaha... using my new found gun skills to control the UK's illegal immigrant population is not what I call racist”.

Newsflash, it IS a racist comment. Why East London? It could not possibly have anything to do with its large Asian community. It is not even plausible that the overwhelming majority of that community are legal citizens (they are brown people after all. The horror). Perhaps she fails to understand the difference between illegal immigration and legal migration? She also tweeted the link to an Australian Islamaphobic article which is more than a little revealing regarding her ‘joke’ statuses.

What is Prince William’s fiancé (and I refer to her as such because she has hardly carved her own path since meeting him. Hello Ms Middleton, the 21st century invites you to join it and gladly introduces you to a little something called feminism) doing with friends like that? Yes Prince Phillip is often off colour but he is of a different generation (not that the generational gap makes his comments more acceptable but they are generally more relatable when one considers one’s own grandparents).

She is hardly a classy friend either. Sayle describes herself as a sextrepreneur and runs a swingers’ club in addition to selling sex aids. Call me a prude but what on earth?

One does not approve.

Quick update, wedding warning and some politics for good measure.

This time last year I wrote a rather angry post about bigots and Christmas. I shall not be following it up this year because a) I have already stated how I feel regarding the matter and b) because people have not irritated about it this year. Instead I choose to rant like I have not done since July. I had promised a sort of On Marriage part 2 but my mother vetoed it and I am so good that I actually listened (yes, my mother is aware of my blog and its content. Clearly I am a badass). I then had graduation to deal with, the need to sort my life out, starting an MA, a new (temporary) job and having to deal with a family tragedy. In summary, it has been a busy half year and I certainly will not be sad to reach the close of the chapter of 2010.

However, before we can say our fond farewells to the last twelve months I need to clarify one thing; the next person to discuss William and Waity Katie’s upcoming nuptials with me will get a slap. A really big one. I do not know them personally ergo I DO NOT care if they have chosen to tie the knot after so many years together. I hate weddings and I barely take an interest in the weddings of people I know and so I am not going to exert myself enough to be interested in a Royal matrimonial celebration.

Also, why are my GPs so damned clueless? If they are not abrasive/attempt to prescribe me medicine I would be allergic to they are apathetic, socially retarded, impatient, rude and patronising.

Finally, yes, I understand that half of the Lib Dem MPs broke their longstanding promise regarding tuition fees (my local MP included) but the next diehard Labour party supporter to talk about the Con/Fib Dems will be put in their place. I am not happy about it either but the fact of the matter is that individuals who natter on about the Lib Dems betraying students but consider themselves to be ardent Labour supporters are special kinds of hypocrites. Tuition fees were initially INTRODUCED by Labour in 1998. Following this it was stated in the 2001 Labour manifesto that they would "not introduce top-up fees". Needless to say this was not the case and top up fees were introduced in 2004. Moreover, from that time and up until the General Election of 2010, Labour were still considering raising fees further. It was not until they were firmly ensconced in opposition that they 'championed' the rights of students regarding fees. Then again, they were against the Iraq War too apparently.

To clarify, of course I am angry at what has happened and I cannot believe the situation my sister will find herself facing in a few short years. Nevertheless, I am going to judge the party I have supported since I was 16 on their overall achievements/failings in government and I am not about to jump on Miliband’s bandwagon.

Dubai Part 2

I wrote part two sooner than I thought I would and what is more, I should be posting my next rant within the week. What is it about? Let us call it ‘On Marriage Part 2’. I really did not want to delve into that topic again but I have to. Apparently graduation changes things and my mother’s quiet acceptance of my disinterest has vanished, God bless her. So if you liked what I had to say last time, the next one should make you laugh. Until then, Dubai.

Trying people managed to find me wherever I went in Dubai. Something as simple as attempting to watch a film in the cinema was disturbed by inconsiderate individuals. We went to watch Robin Hood only to be sat in front of the most irritating men on the planet. They were Saudis, judging by their accents, and were unable to shut up. They talked throughout it and the ushers standing nearby did nothing to stop their chatter. One of the guys read the Arabic subtitles for the rest. Possibly his three friends were illiterate and he was doing them a kindness. Whatever the reason, it was damned annoying. A member of his illiterate posse then decided to rest his face in the space between the seats of myself and a cousin. I assumed he did not understand how truly weird that was. What on earth? It was bad enough trying to concentrate on the film with the nonstop babble but turning around to find his face resting on my chair was extremely disconcerting. When we finally left I could not stop myself from pointing at them and making a rude remark. Unfortunately, though Arabic curses are incredibly effective I do not know how to do this and it had to be in English. I admit that I felt incredibly pleased with myself but my cousin remarked that since their grasp of Arabic was so poor they probably could not understand English (the rise in deficiency in the Arabic language in Arabic speaking countries has actually prompted initiatives to combat it) which rendered my insult ineffective.

I was then made to endure a lady in a pharmacy approaching me about my ‘acne’ and a miracle cure that would supposedly rid me of it. I did not ask for her advice but if I did have acne, which I do not, I would not go to someone who merely wanted to secure a sale and would try to convince me that guano helps skin to accomplish that. Instead I would ask my GP to either prescribe me something or refer me to a dermatologist. I did not appreciate being approached by a patronising saleslady with mock sympathy on her face. Do you think I do not own a mirror? I know what is going on with my face and I am undoubtedly my harshest critic. Unless I ask you about it, DO NOT APPROACH ME, it is rude. Basically, bugger off. My ‘acne’ was actually as a result of the centuries-old dusty tomes I had to deal with whilst writing my dissertation and an unfortunate habit of touching my face. It was especially galling that my purpose in going to the pharmacy was to buy some tanning cream but my attempt at browning up was a spectacular flop. This in turn meant that my experience with the saleslady was for nought. Women were turning brown or red (Not that I condone burning. Pink skin is neither healthy nor attractive, it looks raw. Turning pink? Seek shade) before my very eyes but I remained as white as ever. I was also exposed to some seriously disturbing sights. Ladies, I concede that it is a women only day but it is a beach and not your bathroom; some things are supposed to remain a mystery.

Another individual I found a little funny, not necessarily trying as I cannot say I was irritated by him, was a man who worked at Dubai’s iFly. It was something I was not particularly enthusiastic to try (I was a little ill on the day of the outing) but I decided to go through with so that I would not regret not trying it. The instructor saw that I looked somewhat reluctant and could not believe why. I explained I did not find it particularly gripping and he was adamant that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I said nothing but secretly thought “yeah right Mohinder” (he was identical to Dr. Suresh but was significantly more tatted and pierced). I mean really, how was this a unique opportunity? If you have £40 to spare you can try it in numerous cities around the world. It is indoor skydiving, not time travel. Basically, you get in a tube with an instructor, you’re blown up the tube and you ‘fly’. In a way the instructor was right; I probably would not repeat it.

One thing I absolutely loved was jet skiing. I was initially adamant that I would not be joining in as my inability to swim would make the attempt incredibly stupid. Somewhere along the line I was convinced that it would be fun and that I should at least try it and not to worry about drowning as I would be wearing a lifejacket. This seemed reasonable enough until we were actually presented with the inappropriately named lifejackets. I am not exaggerating when I say that there was no way in hell those jackets had been updated in the last ten years. Mine was ripped and looked as if adding to my weight and causing me to sink would be its contribution were my jet ski to tip over (many of them had capsized). I finally threw caution to the wind and agreed to it and found myself enjoying it immensely. Admittedly I had some incredibly morbid thoughts at the same time as my relishing the experiencing and I was offering up little prayers to God to keep my jet ski from flipping over or the engine exploding (the smell of petrol or whatever it was filled with was overwhelming. It smelt so bad that I was convinced something was burning). Nevertheless, it was thrilling.

Clearly I have been gifted with incredible kindness to my fellow humankind, common sense and intelligence, al7amdullilah.