Reflections: a month in the desert

I've only been here five weeks in the dunes, and I am already SO over celeb jols. Ahlan! (Dubai's very own Heat magazine) - start sweating BOET - my spottings have been diverse across the sporting, cultural and historically influential spheres - ALL of which have been freeviews (ie. no tickets purchased). In no particular order:

• Mylo (dropping tha pressshhhhaaaa)
• The Big Easy (finished at 17 under the day I saw him at the Desert Classic - you good thing ... Nevertheless, all fell apart for the guy on Sunday)
• Tiger (at least with his pipes cleaned, saffa-style)
• Agent Orange (at numerous venues - close enough to almost touch).

Let's see, in the entire 20 month period of my "London phase", my list of unpaid-for fame viewings is about as impressive as a Tesco cheese sandwich:

• Callum Best (famous for being on Celebrity Love Island - god knows what qualified him as a celebrity in the first place)
• The main guy from Hard-Fi

As much as drawing comparisons between Dubai (the gem of the UAE, the artificial oasis, hub of development and no-holds-barred architectural showing off) and London (the established, traditional, yet cosmopolitan home of the Thames whale) is clearly impossible, some attempt has to be made.

Here is what I miss about London:

• Pigeon tomfoolery. Bless the little entertainers, scrabbling for a crumb whilst you're eating your lunch on a cold metal bench.
• The goons and goonettes
• Kev the mobile hairdresser (just watch he doesn't syphon too much vino before letting RIP with the scissors)

Here is what I faarken don't:

• Cab drivers who practically require your last 3 months' bank statements as proof that you can cover the ride
• Those vitamin D THIEVES they call perpetual clouds