My, you have really changed since the time I met you in your Mum's place in Section 14 and you boasted to your maternal Aunt (formerly Sr. Helen) that you were aiming to win the Booker Prize. Before I sat down to write this post, I consulted my doctor friend, remember Dr. Dickiam s/o Prickasamy? I asked him how is it possible that after a man stops growing, his cranium box (for those of us who are not used to verbosity, we know this as the skull) is growing upwards. "Zorro, zorro you dont need me to give you a medical opinion on this. What happens when you put a baloon pump to the hole and start pumping........grows upwards yeah?" Trouble is we dont see this simple logic.
Take it from this old fart Rehman: "Your fart seems to have more substance than what you write." See Rehman , straight from the rectum (for those of you who are used to pomposity, we sometimes refer this part of the extremity, as wind-ward passage....thus the expression from Willie Shakespeare...."all sound and fury signifying nothing".
You see Rehman, I taught English in school and I tell my kids, write to express and not to impress. What has happened to you over the years of job-rotation or is it job-hopping? (I like to be gentle to you)....in all these years you are still trying to impress. You remind me of this guy when told to describe what his father does, replies: My father is a monomaniacal nimrod with piscatorial propensities. Why cant he just say his father is a fisherman. And you go around telling people that you need to visit your tonsorial artist, when you visit the cheapest barber (if you do, that is when NST pays you for this rectum piece).
Rehman, when last I checked 78 bloggers posted in Rocky's blog All about you man. But none, not one, had anything good to say about you. What have you turned into???On the otherhand, like the numb-skull dimwit Adnan of borrowed royal lineage you will say "all lies" Aljazeera cant stand you and now you have either turned bounty-hunter or are you still hogging yourself as a mendicant journalist. Has the potential Booker Prize winner turned itinerant write-now-pay-latter hack (as in horse for ordinary riding or person hired to do dull routine work). Jeeezes fucking Chrest, you have sunk that low. I am fiendishly ashamed of you. God gave you a gift,and your dear Dad and Mum nurtured that gift in you and now you have bastardized this talent. Forget the Bookers Prize, go become a born-again writer and write from the heart....let your ink be the blood of the true-blue journalist your dear mum and dad wanted you to be. There is still hope, if you stop writing from the anal orifice. I will ask my prayer warriors to pray for you. Peace to all men of goodwil and Piss to men who write evil. Veritas nos liberabit. (The truth will set you free.)






