So there I was in a foreign country, with no job, no money.
I went to the Embassy for help.
They refused.
I created a bit of a scene.
They took some details.
Then refused.
The Scottish porter in the main building kindly gave me a cup of tea. Genuinely.
I got no financial help because I couldn't supply a reference or guarantor back home.
While in the foyer of the main building I saw crates, possibly a quarter ton, of dog-food imported from England.
The British value system?
To hell with that.
Some precious little diplomat can't be sodded to help a taxpayer out of a tough situation, but his dog, his fucking dog, is too good for the foreign food!
As it happened, the local people helped me out.
A business office let me sleep on the flat roof(it was Summer), and a local builder gave me work- but first he gave me money to go and get food.
This country really is upside-down.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Needless to say, years later when I applied to the Civil Service, I got a long way, except that I was not considered 'clever' enough for the Diplomatic Service.
Post a Comment