I don’t know what gave me the idea you were a bonhomous old bean laddie but there is a sense of the clown in you that sometimes makes me think you should be wearing a red collar, a white gown and an orange wig. Wait…. You do wear a red collar and a white gown…..Ah well, next time whisk out a rouge lipstick from Shiro’s boudoir when she isn’t looking and daub it on your voluptuous lips.

What with laughing gas increased by 212 rupees all we Paradisians can do is join the circus. And speaking of which, that one ring circus Sour-gin is not taking a cue from the poor cat i’ th’ adage and letting I dare not wait upon I would. The fellow has a nasty habit of galloping down the corridors like a mustang with his tail on fire and crashing into all kinds of things….book cases, marbles, Shiro, airplanes…

If truth be told darling there comes a time in a girl’s life when she prefers to loll around in a rocking chair sucking on a goblet of champagne and biting on a Danish, rather than whisking around in budget planes. Never mind that you can fly as many times as you wish across the Palk Strait to shake hands with Sonia and partake of a masala pizza if you will.

But that didn’t prevent me darling from peeping out of the observation tower last Tuesday – I’d been visiting the good ole terminal to visit a flying relative. And lo and behold I can tell you dearie I couldn’t have been more surprised at what I saw if I’d seen a bright star in the east and three oriental kings following from afar.

On the tail end of a massive piece of metal, which I immediately recognised to be an A321 aircraft, was pasted, possibly with cheap glue – given the budget of the budget airline – a Mihin logo. At the other end, clinging on to its humongous metal nose were 12 able bodied blokes whose torsos were covered in Mihin T-shirts — obtained no doubt from under the Christmas tree at the annual X’mas party at Temple Trees.

And these chappies were giving the aircraft the thallu start of a lifetime. My grand daddy had the same problem dear. There we were ready in our pink knicker bockers and our hair in a braid bursting with childish energy to do a spot of Sunday visiting and grand pappy would crank away at his old Humber Hawk. As it spluttered and died he would sigh the sigh of a man resigned.

Mater would make us all get down from the back of the old bone shaker, patent leather shoes, knee high socks and all and directing operations from a safe distance where she wouldn’t soil her new cashmere sari, position us for the good old thallu start.

The cranky old ancestor insisted he retain the Humber as long as he had able bodied young grand kids to give it the daily thallu.

So I was consumed with nostalgia darling as I watched the A321 getting its own thallu start on account of the Monara carrier refusing point blank to have anything to do with it unless Mihin paid up – and in hard bally cash.

A word of advise dear, next time insist on the passengers disembarking before you push back prior to take off. It gives a distinct advantage to the pusher if the pushee is less heavy. And 200 passengers at 60 kilos a piece at a modest estimate is a helluva lot of lard to thallu.

Perhaps you could drop one of those gentle hints of yours to Sour-gin to help with the thallu darling of an evening. The fellow has been no doubt stuffing his face with turkey and Christmas pudding and is a ripe old size. Putting his weight behind his own two planes is the least he could do. After all he did tell the kept press he helped out with clearing the meal trays when on board despite being the head honcho or poncho of the bally enterprise.

The thing for you to do is to keep Sour-gin and his mad projects as a hobby of yours. A sort of recreational activity. With the Monara withdrawing ground handling, catering and other services to poor Mihin for non payment of dues, Mihin seems to be suffering from withdrawal symptoms.

I say dear I heard you gave a tinkle to old Harry and got him to resume the catering stuff. Good show dearie. Getting kimbula banis from the wayside koththu kade and serving it on a plastic tray is not my cup of tea or even coffee.

And darling I must congratulate you on your fireworks display since January first. Never has there been a ‘blast thru 2007’ as much as in this new year. Never has a new year opened with a bang as did 2008. And now Paradise is complete dearie.

Paradisians have achieved the ultimate Guinness record. It has desecrated through bally violence a church, a kovil, a mosque and a temple. Paradise is running out of places of worship to violate more’s the pity ….but not to worry ole chap I’m sure they’ll think of something.

You would recall dearie that it was the late Maheswaran who protested as two bluish hued thugs laid wreaths at the feet of Rakneel after the final budget debate. Little did the poor chap know that not three weeks later wreaths would be laid in earnest at his own side. And now with the chaps arrested for the murder most foul having all kinds of uncomfortable connections, if you know what I mean, you can’t be sitting all that pretty either old sock. And in the meantime you know Rakneel darling. He is one of those chaps who bides his time.

As the Irishman Mcdonald said to O’Hara just the other day… ‘Begorra, Faith and Begob, the race is not always to the swift.’ In other words as some fellow called Fable once asserted …..or was it Shakespeare…slow and steady wins the race.