A rat's progress in Afghanistan

My only criticism of Ralph is that he tells us too many times how much more money he would make back home. I am sure he is worth every cent, call it the tall poppy syndrome, so to speak, but after the third time I was thinking edit, edit, edit.

Unlike Ralph I rarely heard gunfire, although I did hear the ever-present jingle of the ice cream sellers. Even if you don't have an iota of interest in the electoral process in Afghanistan, which is fascinating, the book is well worth a read to find out about the Secret Raccoon handshake, Kabul's fecal dust that makes up a frighteningly high percentage in the air we all breath.

He enlightens the ignorant about 'man love Thursdays', which goes some way to explain what happens in very segregated societies. He's keen to meet spooks, goes to a well-known Kabul hotel and restaurant, Gandamack, where through a terrible translation sated Aborigine is on the menu – if I remember correctly, it's meant to be aubergine as there isn't much cannibalism in Afghanistan these days.

Reading the book you feel part of the Kabul rampant rumour mill, feel what it is like to be driven around in armoured cars, hear about the tragedy of self-immolation where women, particularly from Herat, set themselves alight to escape terrible lives.

Four years have passed since Ralph was in Afghanistan, and less than two years remain until the final draw down of international troops. The situation is largely the same, getting gradually worse, with the overwhelming feeling that we are abandoning a sinking ship. It's another chapter in Afghan history. With Ralph, at least you laugh with the rats abandoning the ship.