"Well, it kinda looks like the Taj Mahal, donnit?"
What a buffoon! The sticky-out bum bum is back! Denmark is playing a risky game here, letting this strumpet march right back out into a MENA country on the heels of her Syrian refugee camp debacle, to go to Morocco and strut around like she's in a shampoo commercial. Those headscarves are so helpful to make dramatic reveals, eh, Mares? It's so embarrassing, and worse still, no one seems to be telling her to knock it the fuck off. Cue the heavy cutesy-poo, look-what-you're-missing-Mr. Bach sashaying through sacred mausoleums and sites of industry and charitable expansion.
The Mary Fund isn't even doing anything in Morocco, Mary's just there to "observe" (yeah, that'll go over well, the rich white lady looking at The Brown Poors from afar while holding flowers in a blocking gesture) the other organisations doing their work and I suppose "taking something" from her quickie experiences back to The Mary Fund's work in Denmark? In other words, Mary's good at empty corporate-speak, this is all one big photo shoot, with Moroccan security personnel paying to protect her, all to pump up the antipodal natives for Mary's Looker Me! Tour #6 in a couple months. Bitch can't even speak French. She probably giggles when saying "Bonjour" to the locals, after all, to Mary, it's just the language of Henrik and Joachim's Petit Croissant. Useless parasite, that's what you are, Mary.
Photo Gallery: Associated Press
Day One. Visiting the Muhammad V Mausoleum in Rabat.
"And I kinna look like Diana, don' I? The Aussie papers will LOVE this."
"Caroline told me about Sonja Ghandasi or some such before we left ..."
"She is another gorgeous, Western brunette who also wore these blankets on her head and talked to The Poors."
"The secret is making it look like you're a soft, introspective person. That is HARD."
"SEE? I'm concentrating SO HARD on not looking at the cameras."
"Then after counting to ten, the spell is over. Like my red hot pedi!?"
"M. A. uh. oh yeah! R. Y!"
"Phew, time to go!"
Day Two. Visiting a Women's Centre in Rabat.
"OMG. This will sell so well in Oz!"
"How's this? Look good? Get me at a 3/4 shot, it's the most flattering."
"Hello lover! I see your long lens! Tihi!"
"Wait, let me toss my hair, let's see how that'll look, OK?"
"Hold the shot everyone! This'll make me so beloved at home."
"OK, bye-bye, widdle people! Boo-boo-pi-do!"
"OK, little brown person, I'll "shake" your finger!"
"Aww, hello little Muslim lady person."
"Lucky you to be meeting ME!"
"I'm a star in Australia, Europe and North America!"
"It's like looking at Kate Middleton, innit? I get that A LOT."
"I'm super glad this big table and enormous flower arrangement are keeping us at a distance!"
"Shit. Didn't think of people sitting on the side."
"Me? Sew? You've got to be kidding."
"Honey, I don't even know how to boil water."
"Awww. What are you girls doing?"
"So, they don't seem to speak English, what are they doing?"
"Well, that's quite enough for me! I'll not offer you these flowers to enjoy and leave you be!"
"It's like the boss lady paid you a courtesy visit, but I didn't even bring you anything!"
"Awww. Isn't this sweet? Reminds me of granny's house."
"This one reminds me of some of the cheap shit they sell at the Salamanca Market."
"Sparky better be picking this shot up. It's a total Miss Australia look with these flowers!"
"What? You thought Kate was the only one who could colour her hair? Where do you think she got the idea, hm?"
At a local courthouse.
That face sort of says it all.
At the Danish Embassy.
"Finally. Around semi-normal people."
"This one's for you, CFB! Miss you!"
"Yeah, yeah, hej, hej, whatever."
"Marie's not the only one who can wear a push up bra and long necklace."
