After a spartan breakfast of toast with some thick cut lemon marmalade [purchased from Harrods during his last visit to Velaat (England)] and black coffee, he rudely ignored some question his nervous wife asked; then rather solicitously enquired about the health of his octogenarian mother; drove his recently air-conditioned Fiat out of his large but unimpressive bungalow to meet his many solicitors. Needless to add that all his solicitors, doctors, architects and accountants were Parsis. His girlfriends were not.
Jamshedji’s (we will call him that, for ease of reference), first stop was a young solicitor, he had recently engaged and become......