Tobacco Master is back

A couple of years ago I was messenged (I assume that's the appropriate verb) by a guy who called himself the Tobacco Master. After exchanging pleasantries, the conversation went something like this:


Tobacco Master: So, have you guessed who I am yet?

Me: No

Tobacco Master: I am Waqar

Me: I don't know anyone called Waqar

Tobacco Master: What. You don't know your own father?


It turned out that his son, a student in Karachi, has a very similar email address to mine, and he'd got in touch with me by mistake.

Well, last week he was in touch again. It seems he's forgotten that I'm not his son. And he's forgotten how to speak English, so most of his words were in Urdu (I think) transliterated into the Roman alphabet. Rough translations in brackets.


Tobacco Master: Aur sona bacha [So, my beautiful child]

Me: Hello

Tobacco Master: Kaseh ho? [How are you?]

Me: Fine thanks. Do you remember me?

Tobacco Master: Vat u mean? Of course, betta [What do you mean? Of course, son]

Me: I am in London

Tobacco Master: London meh kya karre ho? [What are you doing in London?]

Me: I live in London

Tobacco Master: Huh? [Huh?]


Maybe I'm missing something. Is this some kind of Darth Vader/Luke Skywalker moment, and he's trying to lure me over to the dark side? If so, I wonder what it's like over there. Could be fun.

Slow off the mark

It took more than 24 hours before we received a CV from an ex-Lehman Brothers employee. Slackers.

Comic Strip

We had our first candidates for an admin role in our office this week. The very first interviewee was by far the most intriguing. Turns out she's a part time stand-up comedian and burlesque artist.

Alas, she didn't get the job, we went for a more sensible Polish option instead. Shame, would've been interesting.