My cable guy Lobo Lobo came over this morning, steam coming out of his ears.
"Dikuna men, I'm fully fed up. Dis Facebook: total time waste, men. Wot wot tings peepul post? Chhe. Dey say anyting dat comes out of dere gob. My duffer son Lancy, whole day does nutting: he posts 'Bored.' My udder daughter, Petunia, she puts on her wall, 'Life s***s.' Arre, today only, my padosi, mad fellow called Pintu Ahluwallia, bleddy fool's 25th wedding anniversary, he puts one whole Ram kahani: 'To my loving wife, Bubbly… blah blah... you have stood by me trough tick and tin, you have given us tree loving children, blah blah.' Wot loving children? One is a blinkin charsi. Anyway, my point is, why do we need to read your senti message, men? Arre, turn to your wife and tell her in person. Why should we be party to dis? One duffer, Manikchand, he puts up pichers of his pet poodle, stoopid, bleddy, yappy dog called Maradona, and he says, 'Happy Birthday, my sweet, sweet child,' to de dog, den puts all funny pictures: his poodle with a ribbon round its neck, men.

"Arre, den, dere are stoopid people who put up a map of Sahar Airport and say, 'Checking into Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport.' And, where are dey going? You would tink Barcelona. Or, Rome to meet de Pope. No men, dey are blinking flying to Bhopal. Den dere are udders who will fly to London and post dere UK number +4421345567772 for all to see. Arre, why you telling me your London number? Am I likely to call you? At de most your wife or girlfriend or banker should be informed.