I was at a dinner party the other evening, a leaving party for yet another one of my friends, and it was rather posh. I don’t often get to swan about in Katamaya, but I went fully prepared. I put on my high heels, my newest skirt, and a little blouse, I even washed my hair and shaved my legs. I packed my fags into my Channel handbag (fake off course) and thought I looked the part.
The downside to this ensemble was that en-route to this party I had to stop off at the Ace Club in Maadi, make a speech in front of the assembled crowd and hope they would vote me on to the committee. I looked like a proper lady who lunches, and quite honestly I was crapping it. The hubby wasn’t even there to lend his support, he was off galavanting at the golf.
I did the speech stone cold sober as i had to walk up to the microphone and back again. I sidelined my usual tipple of fine Egyptian wine as the combination of it, and high heels turn me into Bambi. Anyway I did alright and managed to get on, waved my goodbyes and headed off to see the Katamaya crowd.
It was a lively evening but there was an underlying layer of sadness to be saying yet another good bye. I was the only smoker so I discreetly nipped away for a quick fag kindly accompanied by an ex smoker who wanted to hover near by and imbibe of some passive Marlboro light.
There is an underlying feeling of sadness in Egypt too. The buzz has gone. Egypt is tired, fed up, and depressed, We need an inspirational personality to step in and grab the bull by the horns and get things going again. I have the very boy in mind, Jose Mourinho.
Just picture Jose addressing the nation, suave, sophisticated, handsome, sexy and George Clooney-esque. That would be enough to give the economy the boost it needs straight away. Imagine the tourists flocking back just to catch a glimpse of those rugged good looks. But, Jose is not just a pretty face, he is a media darling with his sound bites of wisdom, and his obviously modest persona.
Little snippets from his speeches would go something like this:
“I am Jose Mourinho your President, I am the special one, Egyptian people you are my new team, I am zee boss”
“Men in Egypt play very good with balls….too much playing with balls not good, men in Egypt need to learn how to score…if you score no need to play with balls”
“I am a very stylish man, I am beautiful, Egyptian people should dress like me. Your clothes now very ugly, my team needs look cool. Crocs are banned”
“Egyptian people you cannot grow grass (except good gardeners in Katamaya) Astro Turf will replace all grass, save water, more to wash with, and stop stupid Bowab wet my feet with hose”
Oh, we can but dream, I hereby nominate Jose Mourinho for President, he can’t fuck it up anymore than the last one, or the latest crew.
Thats sorts Egypt out but I still have my underlying sadness at losing so many friends. Our book-club has been decimated. By Christmas only myself and one other member will remain from the original line up. I will no longer be able to regale you with tales of their gin sozzeled conversations, or their expat lady troubles. I need to find some new friends. Selection criteria will be based purely upon their comedic competencies, but in truth I can’t be arsed.
Slainte, Masalama, Bye.