Oh, Farida! How wondrous thy name upon my lips!
On that beach, as you danced, those swaying hips,
Your wonderful, beaming, cheeky smile,
Red swimsuit, flowing hair -
I should have had you right there
How could we tell
Each other of our love?
You spoke only Arabic and French;
And I, only,
A crippled form of English.
The cultural divide,
How could it be breached?
And yet, I've heard it said, that love can conquer all
Although an inbred Muslim hatred of all things Western might be pushing things a tad too far.
Your parents (all of them) didn't understand,
Traditions are hard to break,
Particularly when they're so absolutely mad,
'Arrangement' is the name of the game in your neck of the woods, isn't it?
Whereas we shag whoever we please
And wherever (nightclub, school playground, bushes etc)
And I could never imagine you on all fours behind the bus shelter.
Oh Farida! I liked you so much!
About 500 quid, in fact,
But not 550, and that's the extortionate price they were asking for the air ticket.
Queen of the Desert!
You rang me on the phone,
And spoke to me in French,
Which was mightily embarrassing for me with my mother and sister sitting there laughing at me
Oh, slinky princess, where art thou?
Are you waiting for me still?
Or are you now encumbered with some greasy, fat Arab husband and seven kids training to be al-Qaeda operatives in some mountain camp?
A brief moment and a kiss was all we had,
But I'll never forget the taste
Kind of, like curry with tobacco,
No toothpaste, in your haste, angel-faced, what a waste! (in rap voice)
The most beautiful girl in Algeria,
Of that, you can be content
A bit like Donna Summer
In that photo that you sent,
And will I ever forget you?
No, no again, I say,
It's been a quarter of a century already,
Yet it seems like yesterday,
My darkie, dusky maiden,
Where sleepest thou tonight?
Come and comfort lonely Monkey,
Hang on - I'm just off for a shite.