Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid al-Maktoum has been on the phone, again.
I am ignoring his calls.
The cheek of the man!
He has blatantly attempted to base his construction in Dubai on the great towers of Homeward, without the cash or good taste to even begin to emulate my domain.
Not surprisingly, he has run out of cash, cannot finish it, and wants to pump me for a loan.
A tennis court on top of a tower! Talk about conspicuous wealth and ostentatious waste! Why, a whole village of the Crookball people live on the top of Lonely Tower!
His impossible dream to outdo Homeward is over - an insane act of hubris!
Mind you, he was awful at University - he used to ridicule my lowly roots at the same time as trying to ape my mannerisms - trying to cut an ascetic, brooding figure and associate himself with philanthropic causes!
Why, he even tried to adopt my literary and camel racing interests!
He has, of course, never written a play to rival those of Sir Ernest Wiseman like what I have done.
The one thing that both Beaver Hateman and I agree upon, for a change, is that the treatment of the workers, building this facsimile of Homeward, by the Shiekh was disgraceful!
We made sure they all got to enjoy the party last year, however.
As any good employer knows, one has too properly incentivise ones workers and treat them with respect - but one can only know this, I suppose, if one has humble origins like myself.
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