The fleets of Mercedes taxis with their heavily moustached drivers are still here, looking bruised and battered, as if they havn`t been replaced since Herge himself was in town. The police in their resplendant uniforms, gimlet eyes behind dark glasses, are everywhere, too.

The local buses make Indian travel seem like National Express.

Apparently, according to a copy of Watchtower which a local Jehova kindly gave me, the reason for the dryness of English wit has to do with those who could afford false teeth in the early days not daring to open their mouths when cracking a joke for fear of losing their individually carved ivory knashers.