Basra, 10th October 2003

Well compadres I hope you all recovered from your serious illnesses- being stuck in hospital can surely be the only possible reason why nobody has written to me. I don't want to have to name and shame but apart from Natwest Bank, who seem to find me wherever I go, my sack has been pretty empty (there are long nights here in the desert).

We continue sweating and the locals continue trying to wipe out their tribal enemies. Rather than play football on a Saturday afternoon they seem much more into their kidnappings. What seems to happen is that on the Friday night/ Saturday morning once you've been revved up by the Imam you and your extended family get tooled up, anything from AKs to fuck off massive machine guns, and go en mass down to your rivals areas and nick one of his people. This is a derivative on robbery, unfortunately in Iraq everything worth nicking and most things that are not has been robbed a long time again, so the only thing left to nick is people. Once you've got him you pile into your souped up Nissan Sunnys and Datsun Cherrys (the kidnappers car of choice) and make best speed back to your gaff. Here, like a grown up game of risk, you spend the rest of the day reinforcing the neighbourhood with bunkers and roadblocks and try to second guess how the Abdullahs from Number 24 are going to try and attack you. When they approach in their convoy of Sunnys you unleash hell. However obviously there is a prearranged pact to leave the Sunnys unscathed (how could you possible pull the chicks in a bullet ridden Sunny) so everybody starts pumping bullets in the general direction of the convoy although of the small arsenals fired you'd be lucky if more than a couple of rounds landed in the same grid square. Eventually once you've shot of all your ammo a stalemate breaks out and the local Imam or impartial tribal leader, usually Big Sami from Number52, comes and negotiates the release of the victim. And so ends a merry weekend of kidnapping. fun for all the family.

Anyway we try and fit our convoys and moves in around the national sport, so as disturb the game as little as possible- imagine driving a Land Rover across the wicket whilst they were playing at Lords. And life goes on.

Had 2 whole beers last night and am feeling absolutely dreadful this morning- how the mighty are fallen- not sure if I am now even more of a lightweight than normal (highly unlikely) or whether it was the top quality Bulgarian beer (no expense spared for our boys in the gulf).

Am learning Arabic but can so far only say three letters- I should say can only draw 3 letters- so communication with the locals is still a bit hit and miss.

Hope Blighty is nice and cold and wet.