Driving in My Car

I just finished my driving test.

I didn't kill anyone - at least, no one I noticed - but was a little deflated when the test supervisor bid me farewell and best wishes without confirming whether I had passed or failed.

Motti, my instructor, came back into the car. I asked him why they couldn't tell me the result there and then.

'Well...' he grimaced. 'I have a story for you.'

In 1974 or thereabouts apparently, an irate wannabe driver who had just been told that he had failed his test (back in the day, they did tell them on the spot, along with a discussion about what went wrong: in a minute, you'll see why this remains back in the day) pulled a gun (according to Motti: 'There are too many guns in this country. And too many Crazies...') and killed his test supervisor and instructor.

They now telephone you the following day to let you know how you've done. I empathise totally.

On the way back, he told me about a friend of his who used to be a football agent before an unfortunate series of incidents convinced him to leave the game to other people.

He bought players from good ol' Nigeria, amongst other places (His opinion? 'Nice country - but you bribe for everything!')

Actually, that bit is important, as you'll see in a minute or two.

Anyway, Motti's Friend decided to diversify, and entered the Parrot market. Apparently, Parrots can be had in Nigeria for about $100. Talking Parrots. Very cool accessories in the West. People are dumb enough to pay $5000 for Talking Parrots in the West. You get where I'm going?

Now, Nigeria, like other countries, has pretty strict rules about the exportation of live animals. Unlike most other countries, however, these laws can be worked around with a little patience and the feel of crisp dollar bills in an accommodating palm - the right accommodating palm, I should say.

So getting ten African Greys out of the country wasn't too much of a problem. (Ten? TEN!!! This is what we call Oju Koro Ju in Yoruba: Barefaced greed, essentially. Wasn't four enough, of five, or even six?)

However, there are no direct flights between Lagos and Tel Aviv. And Motti's Friend made the mistake of choosing to fly through Zurich.

Motti: 'By the time he finally arrived in Israel, they needed to take him from the plane in a stretcher, and straight to an ambulance!'

Me: 'What! The Nigerian police did this?'

Motti: 'No! The Swiss Police...'

I said something about presuming that Switzerland was the sort of place where this didn't happen.

Motti laughed. 'Not until they take you down into the basement...'

OK. Worktime. Have a good day