the irish-pakistani named murphy


i remember that around two thirds of my life ago i had a geography teacher named andrews, a scot who claimed he resigned a commisssion in the royal air force, who told me that to respond to a question without actually answering it was a very irish thing to do.

“have you submitted your assignment, young man?”

“are you grading it sir?”

“are you irish?”

“no, mr. andrews”

and so on so forth. there were two theories prevailing at the time: {i) that he had something for the pretty science teacher, eileen o’brien and she wasn’t giving him the time of day; and (ii) that coach rees kicked his ass at some football game. well rees was a welshman and andrews could run rings around him with both legs tied. christ, he could play football. scotland’s maradona. so it was probably ms. o’brien. either that or the irish really do infuriate you when answering questions.

if they do, they wouldn’t be far off from most pakistanis. i mean who can forget that ptv ad:

“wasim bhai aap thaktay nahin?”

“nahin mein cigarette nahin peeta”

theres another similarity between the two races. they’re both highly vulnerable to that great piece of legislation we know only as murphy’s law. take for example the following situation. you have had a hell of a bad relationship with your immediate supervisor at work. this is compounded by the fact that you have had a heated argument with him (i use that term because shouting match sounds oh so unprofessional) the last time you have crossed each other. with one week left to the appraisal meeting in which your performance is to be evaluated, you decide to impress all and sundry at the team meeting today. so far, so good.

at precisely this moment the murphy chromosome decides to wag its tail. you oversleep after sehri and the time you had planned you would enter the office, fashionably five minutes late, is when you hit the shower. you leave home and after wasting ten minutes haggling with the taxidriver and getting a kiometer away from home you realise you forgot the laptop at home and have to rush back. you enter the partner’s room seventeen minutes after the team assembled there and make a lame excuse about explaining something to the client on the phone only to find out that the client has left a message with the partner asking you to call him. half an hour into the meeting, there’s a total standoff between you and the manager about the roles you’re expected to play in the engagement. you can see the “interaction with the team” field in the appraisal sheet in your mind and it sends shudders down your spine as you shut up and listen to the crap coming out of mangoo’s mouth….

one and a half hour later the meeting ends with you scarlet with rage – and that’s no mean feat when your complexion is more like an african gorilla than drew barrymore – and mangoo smiling like a cheshire cat (which is something too gruesome to describe further).

now what in hell were you thinking when you said “no, mr. andrews.”?


3 Responses to “the irish-pakistani named murphy”

  1. err. i tried reading this post about three times. i’m still trying to figure it out.

  2. LOL. i’m the one who wrote it and i can’t make head or tail of it myself. happens when youve only had a sandwich for iftari and are waiting till sehri for the next half decent meal.

  3. ditto Abbas’s comment! hahah
    but i got the not precisely answering the question bit crystal clear! =)

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