New Ugly Scandal Of Nawaz Sharif With Chicago Tribune Journalist, Kim Barker چھپا رستم نوازشریف
- Thread starter Jury
- Start date
Bilal_Mushi
Minister (2k+ posts)
Wow this is huge.................. I know that NS is not honest but this is huge. We shouldn't be jumping to conclusions yet. Lets wait for PML(N) clarification. Lets see what they have to say............. (I hope they don't pick Rana Sanaullah to reply).
[hilar]Jury tumhari aur is Luqman ki halat us marasi ki tarah hai,jo apni mashori k liay aur gaon k chohdary ko badnam karnay k liay kehta phirta hay chohdry acha banda nahi hay,humaray ghar baghair ijazat aata hay aur jata apni marzi se hay[hilar],rating ka msla hay sab ko pata hay same MQM wala tareeqa hay is ka b,jab samjho news mein naam nahi aa raha khi mein MQM target killing shoroo karwa deti hay,isi tarah is ne dekha is ko ab us tawaif ki tarah koi pochta hi nahi jo ziyada age honay ki waja se ya aik tang toot janay ki waja se leti rehti hay,aur nach nahi sakti,aur loog bukhari samjh kar kabhi 2 rupees de jatay hain,[hilar]
funkymonk
Minister (2k+ posts)
funkymonk
Minister (2k+ posts)
first thing .. writing huge size is considered offensive and ill mannered on Internet ..
as for your explanation, first decide NS is stupid or cunning .. there were like 10 - 20 threads here that he is dumber than a door knob ..
and now I am hearing is cunning ..
as for your explanation related to actress .. it is safer with US journalist from top newspaper and not with actress ..
come one dude .. grow up ..
as for your explanation, first decide NS is stupid or cunning .. there were like 10 - 20 threads here that he is dumber than a door knob ..
and now I am hearing is cunning ..
as for your explanation related to actress .. it is safer with US journalist from top newspaper and not with actress ..
come one dude .. grow up ..
Abdul Allah
Minister (2k+ posts)
That remind me Rice allegation on Shukat Aziz
I never love shuakat aziz but Rice and Shukat aziz o my god
same case here.
I never love shuakat aziz but Rice and Shukat aziz o my god
same case here.
pak2010
MPA (400+ posts)
tumhari batoon say tu yah laag rhaa hai kay Nawaz sahab us jurnalist ko sue kerdaingy,,,daikhty hain kitni ghairat hai,,,,,,agar nahi kia tu uska kia matlab hoga yah tum khud jaan laina:)
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Who introduced BlackBerry to Nawaz Shareef ???
I found some very interesting things in The Taliban Shuffel , written by Kim Barker
Sharif just looked at me. How can you get a text message that long on your telephone?
Its an e-mail, I said, slightly shocked that Sharif was unconcerned about what I had just said. This is a BlackBerry phone. You can get email on it.
Ah, e-mail, he said. I must look into this BlackBerry
I found some very interesting things in The Taliban Shuffel , written by Kim Barker
Sharif just looked at me. How can you get a text message that long on your telephone?
Its an e-mail, I said, slightly shocked that Sharif was unconcerned about what I had just said. This is a BlackBerry phone. You can get email on it.
I found some very interesting things in The Taliban Shuffel , written by Kim Barker
This time, in a large banquet hall filled with folding chairs and a long
table, Sharif told his aides that he would talk to me alone. At the time, I
barely noticed. We talked about Zardari, but he spoke carefully and
said little of interest, constantly glancing at my tape recorder like it was
radioactive. Eventually, he nodded toward it.
“Can you turn that off?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, figuring he wanted to tell me something off the record.
“So. Do you have a friend, Kim?” Sharif asked.
I was unsure what he meant.
“I have a lot of friends,” I replied.
“No. Do you have a friend?”
I figured it out.
“You mean a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Sharif. I had two options—lie, or tell the truth. And
because I wanted to see where this line of questioning was going, I told
the truth.
“I had a boyfriend. We recently broke up.” I nodded my head
stupidly, as if to punctuate this thought.
“Why?” Sharif asked. “Was he too boring for you? Not fun enough?”
“Um. No. It just didn’t work out.”
“Oh. I cannot believe you do not have a friend,” Sharif countered.
“No. Nope. I don’t. I did.”
“Do you want me to find one for you?” Sharif asked.
To recap: The militants were gaining strength along the border with
Afghanistan and staging increasingly bold attacks in the country’s cities.
The famed Khyber Pass, linking Pakistan and Afghanistan, was now too
dangerous to drive. The country appeared as unmoored and
directionless as a headless chicken. And here was Sharif,offering to find me a friend.
Thank God the leaders of Pakistan had their priorities
straight.
“Sure. Why not?” I said.
The thought of being fixed up on a date by the former prime minister
of Pakistan, one of the most powerful men in the country and, at
certain points, the world, proved irresistible. It had true train-wreck
potential.
“What qualities are you looking for in a friend?” he asked.
“Tall. Funny. Smart.”
I envisioned a blind date at a restaurant in Lahore over kebabs and
watermelon juice with one of Sharif’s sidekicks, some man with a
mustache, Sharif lurking in the background as chaperone.
“Hmmm. Tall may be tough. You are very tall, and most Pakistanis
are not.” Sharif stood, walked past the banquet table toward the
windows, and looked out over the capital. He pondered, before turning
back toward me.
“What do you mean by smart?” he asked.
“You know. Smart. Quick. Clever.”
“Oh, clever.” He nodded, thought for a second. “But you do not want
cunning. You definitely do not want a cunning friend.”
He looked out the window. It seemed to me that he was thinking of
Bhutto’s widower, Zardari, his onetime ally and now rival, a man
universally considered cunning at business who many felt had
outsmarted Sharif in their recent political tango.
“No. Who wants cunning?”
“Anything else?” he asked. “What about his appearance?”
“I don’t really care. Not fat. Athletic.”
We shook hands, and I left. In all my strange interviews with Sharif,
that definitely was the strangest.table, Sharif told his aides that he would talk to me alone. At the time, I
barely noticed. We talked about Zardari, but he spoke carefully and
said little of interest, constantly glancing at my tape recorder like it was
radioactive. Eventually, he nodded toward it.
“Can you turn that off?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, figuring he wanted to tell me something off the record.
“So. Do you have a friend, Kim?” Sharif asked.
I was unsure what he meant.
“I have a lot of friends,” I replied.
“No. Do you have a friend?”
I figured it out.
“You mean a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Sharif. I had two options—lie, or tell the truth. And
because I wanted to see where this line of questioning was going, I told
the truth.
“I had a boyfriend. We recently broke up.” I nodded my head
stupidly, as if to punctuate this thought.
“Why?” Sharif asked. “Was he too boring for you? Not fun enough?”
“Um. No. It just didn’t work out.”
“Oh. I cannot believe you do not have a friend,” Sharif countered.
“No. Nope. I don’t. I did.”
“Do you want me to find one for you?” Sharif asked.
To recap: The militants were gaining strength along the border with
Afghanistan and staging increasingly bold attacks in the country’s cities.
The famed Khyber Pass, linking Pakistan and Afghanistan, was now too
dangerous to drive. The country appeared as unmoored and
directionless as a headless chicken. And here was Sharif,offering to find me a friend.
Thank God the leaders of Pakistan had their priorities
straight.
“Sure. Why not?” I said.
The thought of being fixed up on a date by the former prime minister
of Pakistan, one of the most powerful men in the country and, at
certain points, the world, proved irresistible. It had true train-wreck
potential.
“What qualities are you looking for in a friend?” he asked.
“Tall. Funny. Smart.”
I envisioned a blind date at a restaurant in Lahore over kebabs and
watermelon juice with one of Sharif’s sidekicks, some man with a
mustache, Sharif lurking in the background as chaperone.
“Hmmm. Tall may be tough. You are very tall, and most Pakistanis
are not.” Sharif stood, walked past the banquet table toward the
windows, and looked out over the capital. He pondered, before turning
back toward me.
“What do you mean by smart?” he asked.
“You know. Smart. Quick. Clever.”
“Oh, clever.” He nodded, thought for a second. “But you do not want
cunning. You definitely do not want a cunning friend.”
He looked out the window. It seemed to me that he was thinking of
Bhutto’s widower, Zardari, his onetime ally and now rival, a man
universally considered cunning at business who many felt had
outsmarted Sharif in their recent political tango.
“No. Who wants cunning?”
“Anything else?” he asked. “What about his appearance?”
“I don’t really care. Not fat. Athletic.”
We shook hands, and I left. In all my strange interviews with Sharif,
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Do not you have a Boyfriend Or Girlfriend ?? No Problem , contact Nawaz Shareef
Do not you have a Boyfriend Or Girlfriend ?? No Problem , contact Nawaz Shareef
Do not you have a Boyfriend Or Girlfriend ?? No Problem , contact Nawaz Shareef
I found some very interesting things in The Taliban Shuffel , written by Kim Barker
This time, in a large banquet hall filled with folding chairs and a long
table, Sharif told his aides that he would talk to me alone. At the time, I
barely noticed. We talked about Zardari, but he spoke carefully and
said little of interest, constantly glancing at my tape recorder like it was
radioactive. Eventually, he nodded toward it.
Can you turn that off? he asked.
Sure, I said, figuring he wanted to tell me something off the record.
So. Do you have a friend, Kim? Sharif asked.
I was unsure what he meant.
I have a lot of friends, I replied.
No. Do you have a friend?
I figured it out.
You mean a boyfriend?
Yes.
I looked at Sharif. I had two optionslie, or tell the truth. And
because I wanted to see where this line of questioning was going, I told
the truth.
I had a boyfriend. We recently broke up. I nodded my head
stupidly, as if to punctuate this thought.
Why? Sharif asked. Was he too boring for you? Not fun enough?
Um. No. It just didnt work out.
Oh. I cannot believe you do not have a friend, Sharif countered.
No. Nope. I dont. I did.
Do you want me to find one for you? Sharif asked.
To recap: The militants were gaining strength along the border with
Afghanistan and staging increasingly bold attacks in the countrys cities.
The famed Khyber Pass, linking Pakistan and Afghanistan, was now too
dangerous to drive. The country appeared as unmoored and
directionless as a headless chicken. And here was Sharif,offering to find me a friend.
Thank God the leaders of Pakistan had their priorities
straight.
Sure. Why not? I said.
The thought of being fixed up on a date by the former prime minister
of Pakistan, one of the most powerful men in the country and, at
certain points, the world, proved irresistible. It had true train-wreck
potential.
What qualities are you looking for in a friend? he asked.
Tall. Funny. Smart.
I envisioned a blind date at a restaurant in Lahore over kebabs and
watermelon juice with one of Sharifs sidekicks, some man with a
mustache, Sharif lurking in the background as chaperone.
Hmmm. Tall may be tough. You are very tall, and most Pakistanis
are not. Sharif stood, walked past the banquet table toward the
windows, and looked out over the capital. He pondered, before turning
back toward me.
What do you mean by smart? he asked.
You know. Smart. Quick. Clever.
Oh, clever. He nodded, thought for a second. But you do not want
cunning. You definitely do not want a cunning friend.
He looked out the window. It seemed to me that he was thinking of
Bhuttos widower, Zardari, his onetime ally and now rival, a man
universally considered cunning at business who many felt had
outsmarted Sharif in their recent political tango.
No. Who wants cunning?
Anything else? he asked. What about his appearance?
I dont really care. Not fat. Athletic.
We shook hands, and I left. In all my strange interviews with Sharif,
that definitely was the strangest.table, Sharif told his aides that he would talk to me alone. At the time, I
barely noticed. We talked about Zardari, but he spoke carefully and
said little of interest, constantly glancing at my tape recorder like it was
radioactive. Eventually, he nodded toward it.
Can you turn that off? he asked.
Sure, I said, figuring he wanted to tell me something off the record.
So. Do you have a friend, Kim? Sharif asked.
I was unsure what he meant.
I have a lot of friends, I replied.
No. Do you have a friend?
I figured it out.
You mean a boyfriend?
Yes.
I looked at Sharif. I had two optionslie, or tell the truth. And
because I wanted to see where this line of questioning was going, I told
the truth.
I had a boyfriend. We recently broke up. I nodded my head
stupidly, as if to punctuate this thought.
Why? Sharif asked. Was he too boring for you? Not fun enough?
Um. No. It just didnt work out.
Oh. I cannot believe you do not have a friend, Sharif countered.
No. Nope. I dont. I did.
Do you want me to find one for you? Sharif asked.
To recap: The militants were gaining strength along the border with
Afghanistan and staging increasingly bold attacks in the countrys cities.
The famed Khyber Pass, linking Pakistan and Afghanistan, was now too
dangerous to drive. The country appeared as unmoored and
directionless as a headless chicken. And here was Sharif,offering to find me a friend.
Thank God the leaders of Pakistan had their priorities
straight.
Sure. Why not? I said.
The thought of being fixed up on a date by the former prime minister
of Pakistan, one of the most powerful men in the country and, at
certain points, the world, proved irresistible. It had true train-wreck
potential.
What qualities are you looking for in a friend? he asked.
Tall. Funny. Smart.
I envisioned a blind date at a restaurant in Lahore over kebabs and
watermelon juice with one of Sharifs sidekicks, some man with a
mustache, Sharif lurking in the background as chaperone.
Hmmm. Tall may be tough. You are very tall, and most Pakistanis
are not. Sharif stood, walked past the banquet table toward the
windows, and looked out over the capital. He pondered, before turning
back toward me.
What do you mean by smart? he asked.
You know. Smart. Quick. Clever.
Oh, clever. He nodded, thought for a second. But you do not want
cunning. You definitely do not want a cunning friend.
He looked out the window. It seemed to me that he was thinking of
Bhuttos widower, Zardari, his onetime ally and now rival, a man
universally considered cunning at business who many felt had
outsmarted Sharif in their recent political tango.
No. Who wants cunning?
Anything else? he asked. What about his appearance?
I dont really care. Not fat. Athletic.
We shook hands, and I left. In all my strange interviews with Sharif,
crankthskunk
Chief Minister (5k+ posts)
NS a match maker: Listen from the horses mouth
Baker, said, NS offer him to arrange a date, first she thought he meant someone else, but later transpired he was hitting on her.[hilar][hilar][hilar][hilar]
Baker, said, NS offer him to arrange a date, first she thought he meant someone else, but later transpired he was hitting on her.[hilar][hilar][hilar][hilar]
Re: Do not you have a Boyfriend Or Girlfriend ?? No Problem , contact Nawaz Shareef
I do agree with you .
I do agree with you .
spartcus aur Kim baker ki halt us old tawaif jaisi hay,jab us k stah gunah na kiya jaye,taur usya paisay na deay jain,tu wo badnam karnay k liay shoor daal detya hain,k ye mray sath bura karna chahta tha,kal ko agar rema ya mera ye keh de k Luqmaan aur altaf husain khusra hain,tu kiya MQM walay is baat ko maan jain ge?baghair kisi saboot k?[QUOTE=Spartacus;376138]
that definitely was the strangest.
[/QUOTE]
I found some very interesting things in The Taliban Shuffel , written by Kim Barker
This time, in a large banquet hall filled with folding chairs and a long
table, Sharif told his aides that he would talk to me alone. At the time, I
barely noticed. We talked about Zardari, but he spoke carefully and
said little of interest, constantly glancing at my tape recorder like it was
radioactive. Eventually, he nodded toward it.
“Can you turn that off?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, figuring he wanted to tell me something off the record.
“So. Do you have a friend, Kim?” Sharif asked.
I was unsure what he meant.
“I have a lot of friends,” I replied.
“No. Do you have a friend?”
I figured it out.
“You mean a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Sharif. I had two options—lie, or tell the truth. And
because I wanted to see where this line of questioning was going, I told
the truth.
“I had a boyfriend. We recently broke up.” I nodded my head
stupidly, as if to punctuate this thought.
“Why?” Sharif asked. “Was he too boring for you? Not fun enough?”
“Um. No. It just didn’t work out.”
“Oh. I cannot believe you do not have a friend,” Sharif countered.
“No. Nope. I don’t. I did.”
“Do you want me to find one for you?” Sharif asked.
To recap: The militants were gaining strength along the border with
Afghanistan and staging increasingly bold attacks in the country’s cities.
The famed Khyber Pass, linking Pakistan and Afghanistan, was now too
dangerous to drive. The country appeared as unmoored and
directionless as a headless chicken. And here was Sharif,offering to find me a friend.
Thank God the leaders of Pakistan had their priorities
straight.
“Sure. Why not?” I said.
The thought of being fixed up on a date by the former prime minister
of Pakistan, one of the most powerful men in the country and, at
certain points, the world, proved irresistible. It had true train-wreck
potential.
“What qualities are you looking for in a friend?” he asked.
“Tall. Funny. Smart.”
I envisioned a blind date at a restaurant in Lahore over kebabs and
watermelon juice with one of Sharif’s sidekicks, some man with a
mustache, Sharif lurking in the background as chaperone.
“Hmmm. Tall may be tough. You are very tall, and most Pakistanis
are not.” Sharif stood, walked past the banquet table toward the
windows, and looked out over the capital. He pondered, before turning
back toward me.
“What do you mean by smart?” he asked.
“You know. Smart. Quick. Clever.”
“Oh, clever.” He nodded, thought for a second. “But you do not want
cunning. You definitely do not want a cunning friend.”
He looked out the window. It seemed to me that he was thinking of
Bhutto’s widower, Zardari, his onetime ally and now rival, a man
universally considered cunning at business who many felt had
outsmarted Sharif in their recent political tango.
“No. Who wants cunning?”
“Anything else?” he asked. “What about his appearance?”
“I don’t really care. Not fat. Athletic.”
We shook hands, and I left. In all my strange interviews with Sharif,
This time, in a large banquet hall filled with folding chairs and a long
table, Sharif told his aides that he would talk to me alone. At the time, I
barely noticed. We talked about Zardari, but he spoke carefully and
said little of interest, constantly glancing at my tape recorder like it was
radioactive. Eventually, he nodded toward it.
“Can you turn that off?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, figuring he wanted to tell me something off the record.
“So. Do you have a friend, Kim?” Sharif asked.
I was unsure what he meant.
“I have a lot of friends,” I replied.
“No. Do you have a friend?”
I figured it out.
“You mean a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Sharif. I had two options—lie, or tell the truth. And
because I wanted to see where this line of questioning was going, I told
the truth.
“I had a boyfriend. We recently broke up.” I nodded my head
stupidly, as if to punctuate this thought.
“Why?” Sharif asked. “Was he too boring for you? Not fun enough?”
“Um. No. It just didn’t work out.”
“Oh. I cannot believe you do not have a friend,” Sharif countered.
“No. Nope. I don’t. I did.”
“Do you want me to find one for you?” Sharif asked.
To recap: The militants were gaining strength along the border with
Afghanistan and staging increasingly bold attacks in the country’s cities.
The famed Khyber Pass, linking Pakistan and Afghanistan, was now too
dangerous to drive. The country appeared as unmoored and
directionless as a headless chicken. And here was Sharif,offering to find me a friend.
Thank God the leaders of Pakistan had their priorities
straight.
“Sure. Why not?” I said.
The thought of being fixed up on a date by the former prime minister
of Pakistan, one of the most powerful men in the country and, at
certain points, the world, proved irresistible. It had true train-wreck
potential.
“What qualities are you looking for in a friend?” he asked.
“Tall. Funny. Smart.”
I envisioned a blind date at a restaurant in Lahore over kebabs and
watermelon juice with one of Sharif’s sidekicks, some man with a
mustache, Sharif lurking in the background as chaperone.
“Hmmm. Tall may be tough. You are very tall, and most Pakistanis
are not.” Sharif stood, walked past the banquet table toward the
windows, and looked out over the capital. He pondered, before turning
back toward me.
“What do you mean by smart?” he asked.
“You know. Smart. Quick. Clever.”
“Oh, clever.” He nodded, thought for a second. “But you do not want
cunning. You definitely do not want a cunning friend.”
He looked out the window. It seemed to me that he was thinking of
Bhutto’s widower, Zardari, his onetime ally and now rival, a man
universally considered cunning at business who many felt had
outsmarted Sharif in their recent political tango.
“No. Who wants cunning?”
“Anything else?” he asked. “What about his appearance?”
“I don’t really care. Not fat. Athletic.”
We shook hands, and I left. In all my strange interviews with Sharif,
that definitely was the strangest.
[/QUOTE]
Brothers usually don't do to such things, however, "Dalaal" (Broker) usually do it.
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