A joy of six. What IâÂÂve come across recently:
1. Huge adverts for the English Premier league around AfricaâÂÂs biggest city, Cairo.
They feature Ronaldo, Lampard, Gerrard et al. British marketing men rightly boast of the Premier League being the most popular in the world, though it omits one of the key reasons for its status in much of Asia - itâÂÂs also the most trusted.
While games are bought in several major European leagues, the dirty practice occurs far less frequently in England. Gamblers like that.
2. Counterfeit Wigan Athletic shirts being the most popular English shirt in Egypt, thanks to their tardy forward Zaki.
3. A Bedouin youth wearing a decade old Manchester United shirt in Petra, Jordan (pictured). Like many of his peers, he bizarrely spoke English with an exaggerated cockney accent.
"Oi... this smells like a knock-off"
4. Raffish, nauseous grafters and taxi drivers. Egypt must be the worst place IâÂÂve visited so far for aggressive men in bad shoes hawking tat and trying to rip you off.
IâÂÂd been in Sharm El Sheik (go to Barry Island or Butlins Pwellhi instead) for five minutes when a scruff approached us.
âÂÂWhere you from?âÂÂ
âÂÂEngland.âÂÂ
âÂÂVery good. Lovely jubley.âÂÂ
âÂÂWe donâÂÂt want to buy anything, thanks.âÂÂ
He went onto introduce himself as an artist and said: âÂÂAll I ask is that I give you my card please?âÂÂ
Not wanting to be impolite, we said yes. Mistake.
A minute later we were in a shop being congratulated as the first customers of the day â on the bossâ son's first day in the company too! Would you believe the coincidence? The shop owner (the artistâÂÂs dad) looked at my fiancée.
âÂÂEnglish women, the best in the world,â he said. âÂÂMy wife is from Welwyn Garden City.âÂÂ
âÂÂIâÂÂm Brazilian,â replied the better half.
âÂÂBrazilian second best! Please sit down and let me give you a wonderful gift for free.âÂÂ
You end up becoming embroiled in an argument because you donâÂÂt want to buy a fake papyrus wallchart that looks like it has been drawn by the man who advises Stephen Ireland what colour car to buy.
"Allo me old china"
5. 10 minutes later, by a bookshop which didnâÂÂt sell books, a man approached selling British newspapers. IâÂÂd not seen one for a while and was interested. They all had their prices on the cover so I pulled the equivalent of ã2 out.
âÂÂThatâÂÂs not the price,â blagged the blagger. âÂÂThatâÂÂs a code.âÂÂ
âÂÂIs it really? So how much is the paper?âÂÂ
He wanted ã6.
âÂÂNo thanks.âÂÂ
âÂÂHow much you pay,â he shouted aggressively as if IâÂÂd just informed him that IâÂÂd kidnapped his parents. âÂÂHOW MUCH YOU PAY?âÂÂ
6. I met the pianist Christopher Schellhorn. HeâÂÂs one of BritainâÂÂs best and hails from Doncaster, from where he studied at ChethamâÂÂs music school in Manchester and then Cambridge University.
Refreshingly, he had no interest in football. Given that my knowledge of tickling the ivories extended to a go on a Bontempi organ and attempting to play âÂÂWhen the Saints go marching inâ I could hardly talk shop with him.
Christopher took a taxi in Bombay for what should have been a straightforward 10-minute drive. The taxi stopped and the driver got out to see âÂÂa friendâ who owned a tailorâÂÂs shop.
He invited Christopher into the shop for a drink. Five minutes later he offered to measure him up and make him a hand stitched suit for $50 dollars. The pianist couldnâÂÂt believe the price and, while he didnâÂÂt need a suit, felt he couldnâÂÂt refuse one for $50.
He then spent 40 minutes being measured up, before the tailor told him to come back in four hours with the $500.
âÂÂBut you said $50,â replied Christopher.
âÂÂ$500,â raged the tailor. âÂÂAre you stupid? Who can make a suit for $50?âÂÂ
"How much!?!"
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