Appetite

Finally a glimpse of one of the respectable and proper chappies caught frankly ogling, when really they ought not. No harsh criticism involved—Zahruddin the Wadi Manager can be named, here found at the edge of his hotplate doing the usual justice to his assigned role calling to the passing customer. Yes, hello…. Yes. Hello. (Standard among limited English speakers, heard hereabouts morning to night.) The trouble in this instance being—were moral crusaders hovering—between times the man was looking the tall Chinese woman she might have been in her shorts and singlet top standing before him, very much up and down; up and down. A full-bodied, mature and perhaps buxom woman in front. (An old friend in Melbourne, passed on now, would have said of a conquest of the same, Dje je goc uhvatis, zensko; Wherever you clasp, all woman.) One hand on the counter freely appraising while the lady scanned the display board; like a fish out of water our man Rudd opening and closing his mouth; opening and closing. Swallowing and perhaps gulping a little it did appear. Without mincing matters, salivating one could term it. (In Serbo-Croat “thirsting;” zedan.) One of the classical appetites of course, in Aristotle’s taxonomy.