More Tittbits!

Ralphdul, The Unfathomable!

The gentle people of this nation called Morocco have dubbed me Ralphdul, the unfathomable already. Hey, they're not stupid around here, you know! It didn't take them long to figure that one out, because while you might think that Ralphie is wondering what he's going to have for dinner, he's probably figuring out the meaning of life, the universe and why he didn't become a politician. And vice versa, while you might think that he's pondering some deep existential riddle, he's probably just thinking about sex, or more to the point: the lack thereof.

My talent for creative procreation had reached even the finely sculpted ears of His Enlightened Excellence Sheik Aziz Ibn Waylaid and accordingly he had offered me the job of Chief Procurement Officer for the Ministry of Embellishments, a very great honour indeed! In this capacity I would be required to assist His Excellency in guzzling gallons of tea, whilst inventing new ways to postpone, delay or otherwise derail any attempts by ministerial staff or members of the general public, which might conceivably interrupt His Highness in his tea-activities. Quite a responsibility, you will understand and sympathise, I'm sure!

I thought myself eminently suited for this function, in all humility, of course. Anybody who has ever read any of my work can attest that modesty is a universally accepted synonym for Ole Ralphie. No need to dwell on this any further! Although these strenuous activities of tea-swilling, date-nibbling(the fruit - from the tree, to avoid all possible misconception!) and nargila-smoking were nerve-wracking indeed, I bravely sacrificed my already frail constitution to spare another poor wretch, who might otherwise be forced to endure this, had I not been such a philanthropic individual, the burden. I know, I know, my concern for my fellow-man knows no bounds! Say no more. No, Shht!

After many months of such debilitating work, I whispered in the Sheik's ear that all work and no play could well tax our endurance to the breaking-point and I suggested a daily helping of the Dance of the Seven Veils to strengthen our stiff upper lips. I actually got a raise out of this! He made it known to the notables of his large court that it was only to be expected for a suggestion such as this one to fall from my humble sheik-serving lips and that this was exactly the reason why he had hired me. Their esteem for me went up by several notches, let me tell you.

Not long after I, Ralphdul the ever-observent, noticed a strange phenomenon, namely an over-abundance of drool on the chins of the assembled notables that magically appeared during the Dance of the Seven Veils. I consequently advised His Enlightenedness to start a bib-trade, as a sideline, and he made an additional pretty penny out of this. At this stage he even entertained the notion of adopting me, but I remonstrated that this would constitute too great an honour to bestow on one such as my humble self. I did however accept the chauffeur-driven Mercedes!

About a year had passed, when I was dragging my bone-weary carcass through one of the corridors of the palace one morning and I noticed a door that was ajar, which had previously always been closed. When I looked inside, I noticed stacks of documents piled as high up as the ceiling. There must have been several tons of paper in there. I asked one of the staff whatever this might be and he answered that this was in effect me very own office. Imagine that, I actually had an office, although the chair at my desk had never been graced with the presence of my humble, ministerial butt. On further inquiry I learned that these were the petitions that had been gathering dust there for years and in some cases decades even. Many of the petitioners had taken up permanent residence in the royal palace, because of this.

It was then that I was struck by an idea that borders on the lunatic! What if i were to actually process some of these requests and  do some actual work? Maybe the exercise would do me some good. I broached the subject  with His Highness, who thought this very droll. He went on to say that I could do as I pleased, but in my spare time, of course! The sacrifices that some civil servants will go to on behalf of their ministry are truly above and beyond the call of duty, wouldn't you agree!?

The procedure was as follows: I should read the documents, decide whether they were valid and if so sign them. After which I should take them to His Excellence for his royal stamp, which might prove a problem. As I couldn't read Arabic, I devised my own criteria for deciding which document should be approved. I was working(yes!!) for the Ministry of Embellishments, therefore if a petition looked pretty and tidy I would sign it and the rest were consigned to the bin, period!

A foot high stack of documents seemed ample for a two-week period of work. This kind of exercise should be done in moderation. I wouldn't want to contract a case of carpal syndrome, which is where you develop a fish-shaped growth on your arm. Yuck! I vowed to avoid this aberration at all costs! Next I devised a little scheme to get the documents stamped. I had noticed that Sheik Aziz fancied himself quite the percussionist, who would tap along with the rhythm on the tea table, during the Dance of the Seven Veils. I coaxed him into trying out his royal stamp as a drumstick. He was all for it, because it made more noise.

And this is how the petitions got stamped. His Highness did get carried away on a couple of occasions, where he insisted on a drum solo and did an excellent imitation of Animal from the Muppet Show, with ink flying all over the dancers. The news that the ministry was productive for the first time since its inception raced across the Arab sands and His Untiring Excellence was praised to the heavens. Even the news of my own involvement must have filtered through, because on one of my infrequent strolls in the city, I would notice people kissing the footprints that Ralphie had left behind, with tears in their eyes.

After about a year of this, the palace had emptied of all but the people who actually belonged there. The gargantuan effort on my part had forced me into early retirement, but out of gratitude the Sheik Waylaid had given me a lifetime stipend and luxurious quarters in the palace grounds. Now, you see how hard back-breaking work can pay off, if you put your heart and soul into it? I rest my suitcase!