Oh Elevated Mr. Mubarak! Give us air hostesses who give a shit!

We all know that nothing rivals the Egyptian woman in terms of beauty, vitale, and ability to whip up a mean rabbit in molokheya. But, why, Oh father, are our air stewardesses some of the moodiest cows in the skies today? Ask one for a blanket on a long haul flight and she'll say "Why?" and then walk off. Politely request a glass of water mid-flight and a flat "no" is what you'll get for your thanks. Please also ask them to stop dipping their faces in bowls of flour.

Oh Colossal Mr. Mubarak! The Cold War look is out!

I know there was a day when a crew cut, aviators and an uber-grimace were in. But, in all honesty, we pretty much left that behind in the 80s. Right up there with crimping and man-perms. A new look is required, Oh Mr. Mubarak. We need a modern outlook for our country. We need the hoxton mullet. Spikey on the top, long on the back, drainpipes, pointy shoes, and possibly leg warmers. pink. That way all visiting dignitaries will dig you/us. Please also build us a roller disco in Nasr City.

Oh All Encompassing Mr. Mubarak! Help us hate the Jew!

Rumour-mongering is what we do best, Oh leader. It's what keeps us on our toes against the marauding Jew on the other side of our fiercely defended borders. We know that when things go wrong we look to the Jew, for 'tis he who has told us not to queue in an orderly fashion for a metro ticket. We are all too aware that Jew women have lured our men in Sinai across the border and turned them into spies (after a shag that is)! We are all too aware that "Ariel" washing up powder contains the poisonous dandruff of Sharon! And we are all too aware that Jewish scientists invented hashish, which ensures we stay lit all day.

Oh Praiseworthy Mr. Mubarak! Give us sidewalks!

Our people need sidewalks upon which to preamble. Our city is great, but it seems never to have been designed for the average pedestrian. Which is strange since there are over 20 million of us. While you’re at it, we need overhead footbridges on all major roads so we no longer have to dice with death every morning on our ways to work.

Oh Omnipotent Mr. Mubarak! Remove all car horns forthwith at factories prior to sale!

We all love noise and plenty of hullabaloo. This much is true. But please, Oh Mr. Mubarak, remove all car horns from cars effective immediately. This is best for our great city, in the long-term. It will ensure there will be a lower death rate from heart attacks, less instances of tinnitus, and, perhaps, we may even actually become better drivers.

Oh Exalted Mr. Mubarak! Castrate all bad mannered Shabab in Downtown!

Our women are dear to us and we love them. You taught us that, Oh Mr. Mubarak. Why, then, are they verbally abused, molested and defiled as they browse the latest fashion in the clothes shops of Downtown? From this day forth, we urge you to remove the testicles of all offensive Shabab, to help lower their urges to besmirch.

Oh Lofty Mr. Mubarak! Outlaw the consumption of Fuul and Taamiya in daylight hours.

We know all too well that our great nation was built with fuul and taamiya set firmly in our guts, and without it we would indeed be lesser men. But, Oh Mr. Mubarak, it is turning us into zombies! We eat, then we sleep immediately after and become inconceivably unproductive for the rest of the day. It also makes our farts smell of dead people.

Oh Glorious Mr. Mubarak! Please never again imprison anyone who listens to Bon Jovi!

I know how our metal heads have pimples and jet-black hair that covers the entire left side of their faces. But they are young and we must protect them. Like you protect us, Oh Immense one. Now everyone is afraid to listen to Bon Jovi again. And I know you think that owning a “Livin’ on a Prayer” LP is tantamount to de-flowering the honour of the nation, but they would have grown out of it, Oh Mr. Mubarak. Honest.