Monthly Archives: May 2013

A bodyguard in Afghanistan


On a plane out of Turkey a few weeks ago I met a British soldier named Stuart an ex soldier I should say. He was average height but very well built. He joined the army as a teenager and was in the Royal Military Police. He has worked as a private bodyguard in Iraq and Afghanistan. He told me he was getting over $3 000 a day at one point. He did not boast about this. I had to drag it out of him. He told me about all the situations. I asked how he coped with the fear of being killed. He said just not to think about it – get on with the job. That is a good way of dealing with my woes. Fear paralyses people. They cannot think straight. There is no sense in fixating on worse case scenarios. 

He told me in Afghanistan he was with some British officials. He saw one of them hand over two million dollars in cash to a provincial governor. It was a bribe to pay off the Taleban. Stuart approved of this. It is better than people being killed.

The thing is they can use this to buy arms. If it works I approve of this bribery. We fight with gold as we fight with led. Some will say that Danegeld never works. I am not so sure. Maybe that is part of the reason that the violence levels have dropped lately. 

If we fight and do not pay off the Taleban it still costs money – probably a lot more than offering them douceurs.

A new strategy for Al Qa;eda.


Forget killing people. Arab music is more terrible than any bomb. All they have to do is turn on their loud hailers and blare out that cacophony that they dare to call music. That unmelodic racket grates on the ears. People would soon be driven to distraction. Ok, ok – we cannot fucking take it any more. Their attempt at pop music is even crueler than their traditional music. We submit – you can have everything you want and my foreskin too. Just turn off the fucking shrill wailing noise.

Dreams over the past two nights.


The night before last I had some vexatious dream. It was related to being late for the aeroplane the next day. In fact I made it to the airport in good time. The taxi driver was an Afghan named Said. He had been in the United Kingdom for 17 years. He was a Kabuli and we had a fascinating conversation. His English was almost perfect. He agree with the thesis that Pakistan does not want a strong and prosperous Afghanistan. It wants to be able to dominate the country. Islamabad fears that India will forge a close alliance with Afghanistan. In the 1980s the Government of India had very cordial ties with the communist regime in Afghanistan. Pakistan would then face a two front war. 

Anyway, I had a hearty cooked breakfast before jetting off. I noticed a pink bag abandoned in the corridor near my departure gate. I chose to say nothing for fear the flight would be delayed. 

On the plane I sat beside a Romanian named Stefan. This pale youth from Ramnicu Valcea spoke excellent English after 6 years on and off in the British Isles. He worked in construction but seemed too smart for that. 

I got home before my baby. I bathed and greeted him at the door when he came in. He was surprised and diffifent – studiously avoiding eye contact for a bit. Then he opened up to me. Soon it was back to normal. One of the best things about having children is teaching them bad habits. When he exhales backwards he says – stink bomb,

He said that only I was permitted to share his bed. He kept tossing and turning – he was perpendicular to me sometimes.  I took his protests as rescission of a contract. I have contract on the brain after all that revision.

I do not know recall more of my revery but it was agreeable. 

Amity between my child and I is restored.


A dream of my rectal crevice


Yesterday I passed a former pupil named Eleanor in the street. I could not recall the name of this self regarding bimbo at the time. She was amicable towards me in the past. She did not me espy. Anyhow – in my dream I was speaking to her. She told me she had been peeping down the back of my trousers and boxer shorts. She had been looking at my anal cleft. She has taken snaps of my bottom cleavage and the sediment lodged therein. She showed me photos of the same. Suffice it to say this was not pretty. She accused me of scratching my rear and then my face. She was a touch contemptuous in her tone. What can it all mean? I must be afeared of being contempted by the like of her. She is conceited and pretentious – an AC -tor, don;t you know?

This thesp is deathly pale – a veagan. Looks are everything to her. Her father died when she was 12 and she craves male affection.

Funny place names


I passed a street the other day that I must revisit at midnight – Fagg’s Lane. A good place to walk your dog – especially if you do not have one. You might pick up a stray.

IN Cheshire there is a street called slut’s hole. 

Azerbaijan has a town called Bum. It has a city named Ganja and yes the local delicacy is hash.

There is the ever familiar German mountain called Wank. 

Activity 17.2 Page 211


Would an order for specific performance in a contract for services be tantamount to slavery?


This would not be tantamount of slavery. There can be legal contract for slavery. Someone has without duress or economic duress agreed to a contract. That party has breached the contract. It may be that the court finds that damages will not suffice and only specific performance will satisfy the requirements of justice. Slavery involves no consideration and not freewill. This is quite different.