...and every of his written literary thought!

Thursday, May 21, 2009

United States of Africa & Poli-tricks

He checked his mailbox for the fifth time and saw a forwarded letter from the President. He wondered what the General wanted to know even when nothing tangible had come his way. He read it though.

Hey PP,
How I hate the three Bs: Bush, Blair and the BBC! Not only do they own most of the world and its airways, they also think this gives them the right to tell the whole world what to think.
Look at this ‘Third Term’ business. How dare they lecture the good people of Africa about how to govern themselves! How dare they tell us that we GPs- General-Presidents should quit after two terms in office!

Don’t they know that here in Africa, the older you are the wiser you get? I was pretty bright at the age of 20 but look at me now! There’s no end to my wisdom. Think what my people would have lost if I’d quit after a paltry ten years in power. It’s unthinkable.

Did God stop at the end of His second term? Did He say, “Sorry folks that’s your lot-George Bush thinks it’s time for me to ‘Bush’ off and retire into some bushy golf course.” Of course, He didn’t. He took a long look at Himself and concluded that, bearing in mind the state of His brain and His continued ability to run marathons, He was good for another millennium.
The worst hypocrites, PP, are those people at the BBC. I particularly have in mind that duo in Bush House-(I hate the ***#**%#`~** bushy forest!) Blackbird Bum and Elizabeth Hyena. For the past twenty years, they have been hectoring us on the virtues of ‘multi-coloured demo-crazy, good governed-asses, and regular erections’.

The cheek of it! Who elected them? How many terms have they served? Don’t they know that the entire continent is crying out to be spared the tyranny of their voices lecturing us about ‘freedom and democracy’? I believe real freedom not to be bothered by the strictures of self-appointed moralists at the BBC, like Bum and Hyena.
And look at what Miss Hyena is up to now. She’s back in Africa as a Minister without Handbag, telling the poor President Cufflink what to think and say. Was she elected? Has she submitted herself to the will of the people?

I had a dream, PP, I had a dream. I dreamed I was attending the twelfth anniversary of the formation of the African Union. I was chatting to the Union’s President for Life, Colonel Muammar Graffiti. We were strolling along Graffiti Avenue in central Graffiti-Ville (capital of what used to be Ethiopia). Graffiti was complaining about the declining value of the Graffiti (the African Union’s currency) against the dollar.

“What we need,” I suggested, “is an injection of capital from new members”.
“But every African country is already a member” said Muammar.
“How about Germany?” I proposed. “The Germs have got loads of money, you know!”
“But they are not African,” he said. “They are not even black. In fact, they do not even like blacks. They don’t really like anyone who’s not German”
“No problem!” I said. “They can be honorary Africans”.
“But General-Specific, why would they join us?” asked Muammar.

“Well”, said I, “having failed totally to take over Europe, they are looking for new horizons.”
Graffiti, I could tell, was not convinced. He was more interested in taking over the European Union than in Germany swallowing us. In fact, I happen to know that Graffiti is currently financing the Southern Bavarian Lederhosen Liberation Front, which has in the recent past been involved in a number of atrocities involving exploding frankfurters and poisoned sauerkraut.
At this point, Captain Bob, the Number One Leader of the African Union’s Southern provinces joined us, and Flight Lieutenant JJ Warplane, now back as head of state of Africa’s Western region.
JJ Warplane was not happy. “I bring you bad news,” he said. “The people are not pleased with the African Union. They hate it.”

“Listen!” said Colonel Graffiti. “The achievements of the African Union are self-evident. We have lasted for ten years, we have the same currency and we all belong to a country of the same name. What more could we have done?”
We then fell to discussing titles and ranks. “Why is it,” I asked Muammar, “that you have always been a colonel? Why didn’t you promote yourself after your famous victories against American Imperialism and your triumph over Lockerbie? You were once called Private-public, but that was so many years ago. And what about you, JJ, why stick at Flight Lieutenant when you could so easily have been a Jumbo General?”

Graffiti gazed into the distance and said, “Colonel is not a military rank. Colonel means ‘the nucleus or central part of everything’ that’s me: the central part of everything-that is why I said a big no to the hypocritical arm-twisting antics of the West”
“Over the Lockerbie compensation?”

“Yes, yes. That was outrageous! Whenever Britons commit murder abroad, we never hear of the British Queen being told to accept responsibility and pay up!”
Captain Bob, who had been absorbed in his book, “How to torment Homosexuals, volume 3’, looked up and said, “Excuse me, Colonel. You are thinking of ‘kernel’, the nutty kind of kernel, the softer, and the edible kind of kernel”.

The president was obviously offended because as a young man he was very fond of nuts and would often eat them in the afternoon. Until one day, he got a Brazil nut caught in his throat and almost choked to death. So he ordered his ambassador to Brazil back to his palace and had him killed.
“Nutty, eh?” Screamed Graffiti. “Are you implying that I’m nutty, soft in the head, unfit to rule this great Union of ours?”

“Not at all!” said Captain Bob. “I’m just implying that you can’t spell.”
But Graffiti would have none of it. “You traitor! You plotter! You coward! You ex-leader of the African Union southern provinces!” And Graffiti pulled out one of his exploding frankfurters and threw it at Bob, blowing him into a thousand pieces. JJ also perished in the blast.

And that, PP, is how the African Union became a true union. No more North, East, South or West. Just Africa. Funny thing, dreams.’

The minister was very happy by the forwarded attachment. It had made his day.

READ MORE FROM MY NOVEL SUFFERIATION STREET.

1 comment:

  1. Good job... I would make Captain Bob the minister for lands...:)

    ReplyDelete

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