NEWSFLUSH: Cafe uses salacious means to attract patrons

The 'bum' evidence

A popular cafe in Dubai has sunk to new depths to try to woo patrons to its all day breakfast.

Couples, families and slightly awkward-looking visiting parents were left 'O'pen mouthed this weekend as they surveyed the cafe's ridiculously long menu.  Although some visitors to the well-known eatery were excited by the prospect of an altogether new style of Eggs Benedict, many were left shocked and disturbed and in need of culinary stress counseling.

A miss-sold customer

Managers at the cafe refused to comment on the indecent ingredients but one worker, who preferred to remain anonymous, was mystified: "I only greet people when they walk in.  I have nothing to do with the menu, taking orders or really being helpful at all."

Sue and Martin Jenkins, who were visiting from England were visibly upset. "We thought our son and daughter-in-law were living in a decent and upstanding country.  We have just bought a pair of all-terrain sandals for our future visits but perhaps we should take them back."

Cultural and Language Nuance Specialist Susan Lee said "The offending word is open to misinterpretation.  But what is more offending?  Serving up toasted a***s or roasting homeless people?"

Given the latter are in short supply in Dubai, the public have been warned to watch their backs.

Investigations continue.

The Skip Hunter

While the average Dubai resident scans the roads for clapped-out Camrys with a tendency to break suddenly or even reverse into oncoming traffic, Melanie is literally looking for a skip on wheels.  She can often be found driving slowly around the residential back streets, looking for bins with little treasures left beside them.  Her friends may laugh but so far she’s found a children’s slide, a bed and cupboard for the maid, a fully-functioning DVD player, one slightly stained trampoline and a full rattan garden suite.  Even her husband knows the drill now and sent a ‘999-BIN’ text detailing the street and house number after spotting an abandoned child’s scooter leaning sadly on a pile of black bags.  She was out of the house and in the car in a trice.  Having been forced to watch Toy Story trilogy on a regular basis, Melanie’s children feel too guilty to turn down the orphaned offerings.

But the bargain hunting doesn’t stop there.  Countless innocent Dubizzle shoppers have been gazumped by Melanie who was overjoyed when the website introduced the email alert option.  If you’ve driven all the way to the Green Community for a lousy oven, only to find an embarrassed looking previous owner, you know that Melanie’s been there.  And she’s probably managed to buy something from them that they didn’t even intend to sell.  Like their dog.

Every year Melanie gives the members of her family the appropriate Entertainer guide and every year she rips out the coupons and organises them into themed piles.  Waiters across Dubai wait patiently while she flicks through a well-thumbed pack of colourful paper squares tied in a rubber band and look awkward when she suggests combining 2-for-1 and 50% off coupons together with a ‘kids eat free’ deal from a weekly magazine.  Melanie pumps her arm in triumph while her husband and children try to hide under the table.

Melanie’s current dilemma is whether to book a table the Safa Park Flea market this weekend or hold a garage sale.  She’s got so much junk these days, she’s just going to have to sell some of it.  And there’s nothing that warms her heart more than being given cash for something she picked up at the dump.

The Rugby Team

Hamish Allen has been captain of The Minotaurs since April 2008 when his wife pointed out that he had got a bit fat since they moved to Dubai and should probably take some more exercise.  An ex-military man, the suggestion that he might be ‘letting himself go’ went down badly and as a result he gathered his closest friends and suggested they form a team that could one day play in the Dubai Sevens’ Local Social tournament.  Most of them were keen considering it would give them an excuse to be out of the house one night a week.  They envisioned hearty and bracing exercise followed by pints in the pub.  After a couple of training sessions in which they sweated more than they thought physically possible and a few vomited on the grass, they realised there really wasn’t a pub nearby in which they could turn up looking as they did without the police being called. Hamish’s team numbers dwindled.

This didn’t thwart Hamish though, nor his vice-captain Will, a sinewy and enthusiastic scrum-half who runs marathons for fun in his spare time.  They managed to cobble together a few regulars with tenuous links to the original team and on (most) Monday nights are spotted punishing themselves in Safa Park and trying to avoid a punch-up with a belligerent French team.  Will’s knowledge of French sledging isn’t great but he knows that the word ‘mère’ coupled with some gyrating body movements usually gets the message across.

The Minotaurs have had the odd success, including winning the Bowl in a local tournament.  No one mentions that it was down to a clerical error and the team they should have played was sent home by mistake.  That would just be churlish.  They pride themselves on the fact that they always play with their local line-up and don’t bring in a ringer like their least favourite team Beach Bar Buffoons, who regularly present an ex-under 21 champion at the last minute who just happens to be visiting.  However, most of The Minotaurs really should be playing in the Vets tournament and they are forced to include a chubby guy called Gary on the team as both Hamish and Will are too frightened of his pushy wife to say no.  She often turns up to practice with sandwiches dragging two reluctant children who repeatedly ask why daddy is sitting on the bench.

This year, Hamish is feeling optimistic.  Despite one fractured ankle, a torn cruciate ligament and a wife threatening divorce, he has managed to form a team.  Their group looks manageable; they will clearly be thrashed by the Dubaiboks but the Badger Beaters look giddy and they haven’t even heard of the other team.  Deep down Hamish knows exactly what will happen.  They’ll be so excited to get through to the next round that everyone will get completely hosed that night and their only try will be thwarted at the last minute by their player running headlong into the post.

The Newcomers

It is obvious that Matt and Amy are new to Dubai by virtue of the fact that they are still so damn excited to be here.  And because they sunbathe.  Having done a bit of research on the place, they initially wanted to live in ‘real Dubai’, as Matt said “you know, really get a feel for the culture” and as a result tried their hardest to find an apartment in Old Town.  Sadly it was a bit out of their budget and they opted for a flat in Tecom instead, which boasted it’s own mall (tiny dusty shop specialising in noodles) and a gym (basement room with a flickering fluorescent light and one lonely dumbbell).

Undeterred in their passion for their new home (even when Amy contracted Giardia from the communal pool) they began the task of settling in.  Their desire to immerse themselves in a range of cultures was satisfied as their first month was spent mainly in Ikea and Carrefour with the remainder of the time going up and down the Sheikh Zayed Road.  On one occasion Amy was reduced to hysterical tears when Matt decided to take a short cut in Al Quoz but they vowed never to speak of it again.  They have often talked about visiting the mosque in Jumeirah but never quite managed it, finding themselves instead eating copious amounts of carrot cake in that café just next door.

Matt enjoys his new job and once he worked out that hierarchy was based on nationality rather than job title, he began to feel quite comfortable in the office.  Amy on the other hand has not found a job yet.  She’s telling herself that she’s enjoying her freedom with mornings on the beach and the occasional manicure but deep down she knows that she’s going to have to have a baby soon if she’s going to make any friends of her own.  Matt has told her that the woman she speaks to so frequently at the telephone company trying to sort out their TV and internet doesn’t count.  They have thrown one party: a disastrous mish-mash of Matt’s colleagues, their new neighbours and the cousin of the manager of her parents’ local pub in Woking.  Unfortunately they misjudged the end of the summer.  A group of very sweaty individuals gripping plastic cups of punch stood awkwardly on their balcony, all secretly thinking that they didn’t really want any new friends and wondering when would be the earliest they could leave without appearing rude.  The only one who did stay well past her welcome was the rather loud and chatty lady they met at the pool who Matt and Amy will spend the rest of their years in Dubai trying to avoid.

The Check-out Girl

Regina is without doubt the cheeriest person on the planet and she greets every customer with a smile so full of metal that one wonders whether it is entirely healthy for her to be working around scanners, swipe cards and tannoys on a daily basis.  In fact there seems to be a correlation between lengthy credit card processing and the amount that Reggie is babbling away to her fellow check-out pals.  Placing herself at the front row of tills in order to have the full attention of the other employees when she turns around, she loves nothing more than bantering loudly with all six of the beaming faces looking at her.  Customers are left bemused as Reggie cracks another indecipherable in-joke that leaves her colleagues shrieking with laughter, oblivious to the fact that the patrons depart the supermarket wondering whether they have something written on their back or stuck to their shoe.

However, Reggie would not feel an ounce of guilt if she were made aware of this; she often thinks that something truly terrible must happen to the customers somewhere between entering the supermarket and arriving at her till to make them behave the way that they do.  Perhaps those little morsels of turkey bacon on a toothpick offered at the deli counter are spiked with some evil potion.  She made the mistake of getting involved in a queue barging dispute once and vowed never to do so again.  Reggie suddenly found herself confronted by a very large woman who seemed to have got dressed in her 6 year-old daughter’s clothes that morning, shouting very slowly: ‘YOU MUST BE NEW HERE.  PEOPLE DO THIS ALL THE TIME.’ For sweet revenge, she looked at the accompanying baby in the trolley, dressed head to toe in pink, topped with a fuchsia band around a very bald head and asked the woman: ‘Is it a boy ma’am?’

She is saintly when yet another idiot forgets to weigh their fruit, even though she knows many of them have done it on purpose, knowing she will race back to the scales for them.  What these people will pay for a mango is totally beyond her – she only wishes she had as many air miles as the raspberries and then she could go home and see her children once in a while.

In a couple of months, Regina will start training the new recruits.  She caught her manager’s attention as a potential leader when she was spotted barking orders at various bag-packers, who all cower in her presence and avoid her conveyor belt like the plague.  Reggie loves the feeling of power.  She sings along loudly with Celine Dion whose emotional wails waft down the aisles…  She knows her heart will go on – as long as she never has to work at that damn French supermarket.

The Hound

The romantic liaison that produced Muttley crossed every canine religious and cultural divide.  The result: a black and white spotted pug on steroids, with an over-shot jaw and an over-zealous tail that does little to hide what it should.  In fact, if by passers do happen to stop and stare at the sight of Muttley on his daily walk, a brief shot of his back view is enough to force them to turn away with horror.  His family would have you believe that the maid walks him every day because they can’t stand the heat when really they would rather be seen dead than in public with the Steve Buscemi of the dog world.

Muttley’s family was forced to take him in as a puppy (when he was still cute) when their ‘friend’ dropped him off on the way to the airport after an unsuccessful stint in Dubai.  Five years, 4 chewed table legs, 3 ruined carpets and one missing inflatable pool mattress later and they have found themselves oddly attached to the beast despite the near bankruptcy caused by dog food bills.  Their friends and visitors to the house however, whose legs have been humped on regular occasions, feel less positively disposed to him.  As do the rest of the compound’s inhabitants who dread the sound of Muttley’s paws skidding across the paving before the ominous silence as he briefly flies through the air, eyes bulging, landing with an ungracious splash in the communal pool.  Muttley is totally oblivious to this strong feeling of ill will towards him, particularly from the gardener who shrieks with fear whenever the mutt approaches and dashes off to wash himself after the ‘bloody dog’ has tried to embrace him yet again.  If only the family knew how much their DEWA bill was spiraling up with every unrequited meeting between the two.

The cats of the compound are thankfully wise to Muttley and watch with bemusement if an outsider should ever cross his path. As a result, the lampposts surrounding the compound are covered in tattered posters of innocent moggies who have entered the Bermuda triangle, never to be seen again.  The family has been presented with a small collection of diamante collars over the years but persuaded themselves that their dear dog has simply dug them up somewhere.  While he might appear monstrous to cats, Muttley does have his kryptonite.  The giant ant is capable of turning him into a gibbering wreck of barks and howls.  Any witnesses to Muttley’s phobia would be forgiven for thinking the dog was barking at the pavement and report a case of rabies to the authorities immediately.

Muttley does enjoy a good outing though and can be seen every morning and evening dragging a tiny pink and white uniformed figure across an empty lot, choking and panting as he races towards any fellow walkers. Glistening pedigrees curl their lips in disdain while secretly envying Muttley’s almost-bald coat as they try not to expire in the heat.  Thank goodness Tails ‘R Us wouldn’t accept the likes of him for the summer!


Dedicated to Inca, Buster and Wal...

Apologies

Mrs Madison would like to apologise for the recent lack of abuse towards her fellow residents and would like to offer the following possibilities for her continuing absence (please select as you see fit)…

Mrs Madison:

- has buckled, like so many expats, and fled for her home country in the hope that she will spend the rest of the summer complaining about the rain – as it should be for goodness sake!

- is enjoying a well-earned maternity leave and spending her time trying to get her barely-born child on to the waiting list of a supposedly outstanding school and considering who she will have to bed in order to do so.

- has been incarcerated having been forced to kick a particularly effusive Modhesh with no sense of personal space in the balls.

- has been sectioned after trying to leave Mercato’s underground car park and finding herself going around and around and around and around and around…

- is queuing for her ID card. (Yeah, right!)

- has been lynched by a mob of very angry Expat Women.

- has read too many 7Days letters and, caught somewhere between hysteria and disbelief, has been left speechless.  Literally.

- is on tour with Wills and Kate.  Of course.

She’ll be back again in September to pick on someone just like you/throw stones in glass houses.