Originally Posted by Bahtatboy

Was accosted by an Indian houseboy foaming at the mouth yesterday morning... Life just ain’t fair.

Originally Posted by Bahtatboy

Was accosted by an Indian houseboy foaming at the mouth yesterday morning (literally—he was half way through cleaning his teeth) as I prepared to drive off for work, shortly joined by another. The building I live in has 2 entrances on one side, opening onto the footpath of a side road which is usually heavily parked. Outside my neighbour’s entrance an A4 sign done in Word from a printer and laminated has been hung wonkily on the fence. All the kerbstones are unpainted, except for those directly outside my neighbour’s entrance, which are painted yellow for about a car’s length. I’d parked overnight outside the neighbour’s entrance, and the houseboys were remonstrating with me. After a very brief exchange I told them to f**k off, and drove away. Yesterday evening on getting home from work the only available parking space was in the same spot, and I parked there. Half an hour later I left to go out for the evening (really good meal at the Italian in the Al Ain Palace Hotel). About 10 people were gathered round my car, transpiring to be my neighbours (who I hadn’t met before) and their entourage, all Indian. Mrs Neighbour turned out to be an arrogant, stuck-up bitchtyrant, demanding that I never, ever park in her parking space again. She slapped her husband for trying to speak. Having got nowhere by appealing to my Britishness (I have great respect for the British, and I am sure you as a Britisher will respect me—which I told her was racist), to my humanity (I am sure you as a human will respect me—I said I respected everybody who deserves it), she responded to my promise not to park there if there was anywhere else to park with “I shall demand justice”; public road, people parking outside my entrance, rental being for the building not the road etc etc left her unswerving. “I shall demand justice”; “From whom?”. “I run 3 schools in Abu Dhabi and my sponsor is the Director of Immigration, I’ll call him now”. Now, its always useful to have an ace up your sleeve, even if it is dubious; and far better to own a gun and never need one, than to need a gun and not have one.

All my insticts and principles were crying get stuffed you arrogant, nasty old bag, I’ll park on the public road where I f**king well want. But we live in a land where doing what’s right and proper in a civilised, ordered country (well, even England for that matter) doesn’t apply. And I doubt said Director—if he exists—would or could do anything, but you just never know…

I’ll now have to walk 25 metres now and again. Life just ain’t fair.