i get a call from my man bakurube, a guy who’s spent half his life in security but he’s the least secure man i know when it comes to secrets. in my younger days, i told him my gf and i were planning to elope and he belted it out to the world. it’s a mystery we’re still friends.

‘let’s go coffee,’ he says. and who am i to decline? i’m already thinking of ice milo, which, if you’ve spared more than a cursory glance at my blog, you will know i am a sucker for.

he picks me up on his motorbike.

‘i gotta make a call at this place first,’ he says. ‘they have the best brazilian beef for the cheapest.’ and he’s mad about beef. funny he hasn’t had a heart attack.

so we speed along boduthakurufaanu magu and stop at this unassuming store not far from the number 1 jetty.

‘unity 1,’ i read aloud from the sign like a moron or a young saththaaru fresh from his island.

‘this place has the best beef, i’m telling you,’ remarks bakurube.

‘you’ve told me alright,’ i say and enter.
and it’s busy as hell. people going in and out. like an orgy in one cavernous hole. my god. unity!

bakurube asks for the meat and someone disappears into the gloom of the establishment.

i notice the bis trays – brown for MVR90.50, white MVR54. 30 bis a tray. so this is where you gotta come guys, if you ever need them bis for peanuts. don’t let me egg you on further.

bakurube is weighing the loin.

‘maaikkalaako, it’s not as cheap as before!’ he exclaims.

‘what happened?’ i ask the seytu.

‘freight,’ he says. and bakurube here has evidently had a fright.

and just as we’re about to depart, some people stream in, rubbing our shoulders.

‘why can’t these guys get this basic rule of society?’ says bakurube.

‘what do you mean?’

‘what i mean is you let people come out before you enter yourself.’

‘wtf are you on about?’

‘you’re another idiot,’ he snaps. ‘you get out of an aeroplane before they let new passengers in, right? you get out of your speedboat before new passengers are allowed in, right?’

‘yeah but these are means of transport,’ i say, like a philosopher. ‘you’re talking about a stationary object.’

‘ok, think about a cinema. they let people out before they let people in.’

‘yeah but that’s a cinema. this is a STORE!’

‘oh lord. never mind. let’s get that coffee.’

‘i know the best place for ice milo.’

i feel aglow for having won this argument.

‘by the way, do you know a food magazine called taste?’ asks bakurube.

‘oh, those guys? they have no taste at all.’

‘huh. you’re just jealous.’

‘of what? the writing?’

‘you don’t even have a hundred followers so shut the fuck up.’

so i do for a minute and get behind bakurube on his bike.

‘dear god, please help me get a hundred,’ i mutter.

‘what’s that?’

‘nothing.’