A thousand mutilated flipflops

The main reason I went to the Snoop Dogg show was curiosity as to how a potty-mouthed gangsta with a penchant for controlled substances and scantily-clad ladies would mix with a culture that frowns upon potty-mouthed-ness, scantilly-clad-ness and controlled substances. I assumed that they'd just chat about their shared love of bling. But no, Mr Dogg was whole-heartedly embraced, to the extent that when he asked "Where the sexy ladies at?" the three girls in front of me nearly screamed their hijabs off. I'm sure there's something a little scaffyhaffy about that.

Not much else to report, I've had a weekend in Abu Dhabi and managed to find myself an art gallery - some actual culture, who would have thought? The exhibition (Hassan Sharif, if you care) was modern art at its most artless, it seemed to showcase the deterioration of a formally competent artist into obsessive-compulsive insanity, as he started sticking more and more things together. Utterly pointless, although a pile of a thousand mutilated flipflops is quite a sight.