Where we leave, obstinate drops of aam panna dripping down the side of your cheeks

hmmmm. Aam panna. So khatta khatta and full of masala and spicy yummy.

One of the few things I particularly like about dilli chicks is their possessiveness. There is this skit which Pablo Francisco does – something about if you have a latina girlfriend then you don’t need an elder brother. I think the same rule applies to the dilli laadies. If one of ’em is on your side, it is like wearing bullet proof armour.

Speaking of which, the translators on Fox convert “ass” to “arse” which is kinda funny. And the image in my head is of some tiny Brit sitting in a windowless room, staring at the TV screen, furiously typing away the words spoken on the show. Letting his colloquialisms seep into the words, “He said shut ya’ar arese. He did. Yup, thats what ’em Americans say.”

I am just waiting for the day when “Bloody” reads as “Blimey”. I shall wait for that day. Patiently. And when it does, I will point at the TV and say “Aaaa HA!”

Fingers are superb for accusations. Absolutely superb. I can’t quite imagine the same effect if one were to use toes, or elbows or even the head. You will probably end up looking like a frikkin retard.

Anyway. Am off to Goa. And then Nicaragua. And perhaps Guatamala.

Toodles.

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