‘Madam’ Strangelove, or : How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love The Shawarma

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A elderly lady always knows where her next dinner is from.

But she isn’t interested in lavish banquets, broiled shrimp, lobster or grilled lamb roasts…she just wants her shawarma.

Since the onset of the electoral season, this particular lady checks her SMS messages and newspaper ads, and then promptly sends out her driver at night to search for shawarma sandwiches at any campaign headquarters, no matter what area they may be in.

The driver zooms in on the shawarma stand, usually requesting four or five shawarmas, mobile phone in hand, while his ‘madam’ yells into her mouthpiece condiment instructions to the beleaguered chauffeur, a man who obviously strikes terror into the heart of every caterer due to his numerous visits (sometimes more than once a night) to the campaign premises.

I wonder who ‘madam’ is voting for.

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