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About Netanya

Still, I’m chuffed when it works out. Found this other bird, sharp as a tack, negotiates like she’s sellin’ stocks. “How much?” I ask. She smirks, “More than your Aston Martin, babe.” Cheeky! Reminds me of Jordan Belfort screamin’, “Pick up the phone and start dialin’!”—she’s dialin’ my number, alright. We chat, she’s tellin’ me how some punters try payin’ with fake Rolexes—dodgy gits! Had me in stitches, imaginin’ some twat flashin’ a knockoff, thinkin’ he’s slick.

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This chapter focuses on the city of Harish, a project that various governments have tried to develop over the last forty years.

I’m trying to fix it, and this old farmer rolls up. He’s got a straw hat and a beard that could hide a squirrel. He’s like, “Need a hand?” I’m like, “You bet!” We’re both under the hood, and he’s telling me stories about the good ol’ days. I’m laughing, but inside, I’m panicking.

Collegium system flawed, says senior advocate Harish Salve