Write about the rains if you must, she says. Okay then, about the rains. Yeah, the rains are nice. If you are a millionaire sitting in your comfy chair by the window sipping some 30-year-old single malt and smoking a pipe filled with something you would normally get arrested for. For the rest of us it means slushing around in the puddles and the muck and trying not to fall sick from God-knows-what. And so the rains are something I love and hate in equal measure. I cannot think of anything else I can say that about.

***

So MF is dead. And frankly I don't see what all the fuss is about. If my art made me as much money as it did him, I wouldn't care where I lived or died. And I wouldn't think twice before painting a nice pair of lady bumps on the map of India or anything else if it paid for a new Ferrari. Desh prem be damned! And if he wanted a glass of Mumbai falooda (which I hate!) so damn bad, he should just have flown in a Mumbai faloodawalla and had glass after glass of that awful drink till London's sewer authority launched an investigation into the extraordinary number of tiny seed like things making their way into the city's underbelly.

***

Shaitan the movie is a complete waste of precious weekend time. One of those films where you come out feeling absolutely nothing (if you leave aside that feeling of having been cheated paying 100 bucks for bludy popcorn!). And why make a movie about a bunch of stupid rich kids doing what only stupid rich kids do? Sex, drugs and fast cars - we know the routine. Tell us something new or don't waste our time. As for the bloodbaths, leave that to Tarantino. Only he can butcher as many people as he wants and get away with it.

Nice week.