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*Names have been changed to protect the guilty

Dear Diary,

I haven’t written for a very long time because I had been really busy telling people what to do. It tires me out.

Friday was a sad day for me. I really don’t like Fridays anymore. It came and went and there was still no lashing for Baif Radawi. Why do people have to stick their leg in the middle of my fun hobby all the time? He is Wahabari I am Wahabari, I should be able to do whatever I want with him. But No. These blasted human rights people! They are so few in number but they really make my beard itch. Speaking of which, my lasher says he has got a rash on his arm for not being able to lash enough people lately.

So many problems to handle.

Once I have my rightful place in the UN, I will show them, there are only Wahabarian rights, not human rights. Till then I will play along – well sort of. It’s not like people don’t like my hobby. They do it all the time behind closed doors; I am just more old-fashioned with my ways.

Note to self: must check waterboarding. It sounds like a fun game. It has water and bubbling sound effects all in one.

I was so stressed a few months back because of my son number 10. (I really must remember to memorize their names in descending order.) He said that a little Shia boy had told him that his watch looks fake. Astaghfaar, as if anything of ours could be fake and that too, a Shia kafir saying that?

I told son number 10 not to worry and that I have his back. So I rounded up all my friends in lower places and bombed the houthis off the Shias in Remen. Small pesky fly like group for now but I plan to get to Jiran later.

However, one thing that happened that I did not like was when little Bakistan said ‘No’. I didn’t even know that such a word existed before then. I showed her who is boss though.

I am such a busy man. I am also breaking all these historical sites in Makkah to build a humongous hotel to accommodate pilgrimage makers. I will definitely be rewarded by the high power for this. I am even making rooms with a view as long as they can pay for it, of course. In my eyes, the one who pays the most is more valuable.

Anyhoo, after the war in Remen, I really got tired and needed a break and wanted some quiet to myself, so I took a mere 1,000 people for a small quiet holiday to the Frenj Riveira. But the Frenj must be really jealous of all the money I have, they signed silly petitions to make us leave. As if. Just my little grandson’s pocket money is enough to increase their revenue.

What I don’t understand is why did the President listen to them? This is why there should only be Kings. Presidents are weak and they listen to their people. To teach him a lesson, I did not pay the hospital bill of 2.6 million pounds. That should teach him to listen to people.

What is it with these weak Presidents and listening to people anyway? Bobama, of all the people, listens to his wife. The shame. A woman! When he came to bow to my hand when I was made King, he brought his wife as if she was an equal. I still remember how we could see her hair! I didn’t see my own wife’s hair till after the Walimah. And here she was, shameless shaking hands with her open hair.

But I let it be. After all, if they disrespect their women by flaunting their face, hair, body what can I do. At least our women are nicely under my control. And Bobama does contribute so much to the Wahabari Army.

Then there was this whole Tyrian refugee thing. I made sure they could not come. It is for their own good. If they come, where will they live? We need the extra space for the hotels so people can be closer to God. Besides, how will they pay the rent? How will they afford the food? They will starve, so it is better they starve in their own country rather than in a foreign one.

I am nice like that.

Then my stupid people started adopting Tyrian orphans. The bloodline! These idiots want to spoil the purity of our blood! I don’t let Wahabari marry non Saudis! I even banned men from marrying Bakistani women. They think I will let them taint our blood like this with Tyrian adoption? The thought makes me want to marry 5 more women and make 25 more pure blooded babies.

So Diary, this saddened me so much I decided to call Bobama to tell him I will visit his country for another much needed quiet holiday and to talk about the kafirs in Jiran too. I told him my favorite colors are red and gold and he was so compliant. He turned the whole Georgieton into gold and red.

I do like how the gold gives my small eyes a nice glow. The floors were all covered with red carpet; I did not even have to see the yucky floor or step on it. He has even emptied a whole hotel of 222 rooms just for me. He is a good one, this Bobama even if he does give too much freedom to his wife. The Frenj really need to learn a few things from him.

I am going to stop for now. My diary writer’s hand is a little tired. It is also lunchtime at Georgieton.

Sept 7, 2015.

This article was first published at – http://nation.com.pk/blogs/07-Sep-2015/diary-of-king-sulayman-of-wahabaria