Thellie as you know dear, is a toothsome young filly, who when the conditions are right, can be the life and soul of the party. Not for her the priggish decorum of centuries past. Tell her a good joke and she may be tickled pink. She may even throw back her head and cackle uncontrollably like a stevedore on a grange ship.
But I may as well tell you darling, Thellie knows when there’s a line and when not to cross it as I have no doubt amply demonstrated to you for the past 13 years with these delightful exchanges of mine which I know you read with increasing relish and vim.
Something you may have to teach your diplomutts lying on a broad…no..no…sorry lying abroad for you these days I meant to say. That deputy chappie in New York for instance. You know the one – the fellow from the 58 division – also known as the fellow with the 58 moves to a lassie’s chassis.
I don’t know what it is with those blokes who keep streaming in on behalf of paradise to the deputy chair in the Big Apple dearie, but a little slap and tickle is all they seem to think about. First that media lackey of yours who didn’t seem to understand the meaning of laptop – Bandu Jay – was recalled by you for winking at the ladies and then immediately promoted as your megaphone in chief.
And now his replacement, this fellow from the 58th – shove-end-duh – has been accused of allegedly fluttering his eyelashes at the media ministering angel Kehel gediya’s off spring. Tch Tch! It’s got to be some soothsayer’s potion smeared on the deputy’s chair darling. You should confer with your Augurer Eliyantha about it. Anyway with all this now plastered all over those blasted websites, good thing you decided to ban 30 of them right away. That’s the spirit.
Now dearie Thellie is no wet blanket. I don’t mind if a chappie shoots a few stiffish cocktails into himself and holds me spellbound with sprightly anecdotes and the riper kind of limerick – I may even tolerate piffle if the time is right but not absolute piffle and that is what your cuz in Washington DC was spouting.
Chaa-oops I said it again-liya told anyone who would listen in and around the Capital of the world that he hundred percent did not agree with the International Crisis Group’s report that violence against the wee lassies in good ole Paradise was on the rise. This, because, in his own words of incomparable eloquence, ‘rapes this and that not taking any place’ in paradise.
I can tell you right now darling and I’m not speaking without the knowledge of the phone book here, rapes ‘this and that’ always taking any place everywhere including in ole paradise, despite your cousin’s assertion that Paradisians are a well disciplined lot and cannot be compared to any other country when it come to cultural behavior.
In the name of compromise and reconciliation and what not, I’m not directing my wrath at civil discourse. A fellow has to be civil. So if a chap said hullo and then unshipped a reserved, gentlemanly sort of smile for good measure, perhaps one of those aloof smiles which an honorary secretary of the Sunday School class would give the elderly aunt of a promising pupil, I would not be the one to fault him.
If a chap let’s call him A no… no… V were to politely say to a pretty young filly at a Christmas party in Tangalle for instance, “I hate to trouble you and all that but would you do me the honour of dancing with me?…” and if the object of his admiration looked up with adoring eyes and simpered back, “Not – a – tall”, and if V now becoming more preux chevalier every moment, extended his hand with a gallant flourish and whisked her on to the floor; that is not the kind of behavior Thellie would be inclined to frown upon. But forcing a young Russian girl…. oh let’s call her Victoria for the nonce….to dance and then hitting her over the head with bottles and allegedly gang raping her when she refuses, is not my idea of a cultured society – whatever the opinion of you and your cousin.
Speaking of this if not that, I’m reminded old prune, of a trenchant vernacular verse I learnt at the callused feet of my old aaya – Rosalyn – about an excitable horse trying to jump over a style which went something like this.
kalabalavee, jaramara vee…
Katakaliyaa broken pieces
jumping this and that agala.”
These words had a profound effect on me in my formative years and I can but only imagine that it must have been a significant part of the general vocabulary of your cousin in all his waking moments. For he goes on to say in his Washington Times video interview that he totally rejects the idea that Paradisian members of the better and brighter kind are ever assaulted – well not without “evidence and this and that” anyway.
But with these intellectual types like your cuz, a little is never enough and nothing is too much. So Chaa-oops I. D. I. A-Liya makes out the usual list to prove his theories. No not the grocery list, the other one. The ‘we love our women folk one.
And this is where the Banda family comes in handy. First female Prime Minister, first female President… you know the list. And now you can add Eva no not the tampon and Shirani – no not the Tilakawardena- as well.
He also says proudly that 50 percent of the work force is female. Darling I can tell you I would much prefer to be lounging in my armchair sipping on a crisp Chardonnay and sucking on a lime than making up a labour demographic.
But I presume he speaks of those migrant workers who leave their homes and family to be abused raped and burnt with cigarette butts by middle eastern boors in long frocks while the other fifty percent or at least some of them are lolling about in the corner kopi-kade down the avenue with a bottle of arak in one hand and a bundle of Dirams in the other. I say reminds me of your armed chappies who were with the gun in one hand and the Human Rights charter in the other. Everyone is a bally multi-tasker these days darn it, making the rest of us look bad.
Anyway darling all I can say is there is enough evidence this and that to convict an army of perpetrators, but how to find it, aah! Now there lies the rub.
Tara for now
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