Oddfellas

Oddfellas

Tuesday, October 31st, 2017

Dear Mr President

You’ve done it again. We would  be insane not to grab this moment and start filming Oddfellas immediately. What a story, what a cast of characters! The headiest mix of the best of Goodfellas, The Godfather and All The President’s Men. I see you blowing Marlon Brando away as a sauve don with a trademark giggle that many actors will imitate for years to come.

Great picture on the front page of The Sunday Times. It would make the perfect movie poster. Nice touch there - the hand on heart, the suit and the shades. All the enigma and cool of a Sicilian movie-don. Don Zuma has quite a ring to it, don’t you think?

You seem intent on going out, not just with a bang but with a spectacular fireworks display. To call you a man of surprises would be like calling Ali a middling boxer. The bard could have said of you: ‘Age has not withered him nor custom staled his infinite variety.’ You are truly deserving of the title ‘Msholozi, Man Of Mystery’. All that you need is a superhero cape..oh, sorry, the DA has the cape.

You have friends in high, low and subterranean places. You introduced mixed martial arts and cage fighting into the house. Your rugby - style cabinet substitutions will probably become standard practice in all democracies. Now you unveil a cast of friends straight out of Goodfellas. Like David Miller of the Proteas, you have hit a succession of sixes. What’s next on your bucket list?

Incidentally, there was an allegation that the other Zuma received support from purveyors of dirty cigarettes. I did buy a pack once that had gravy stains on it. I hope they were gravy stains. Mr President, some of my best friends also inhabit a parallel universe, where the law is concerned. They are not as philanthropic as yours are said to be. Best I did was the odd beer at the Saxonworld Shebeen. If the claims are true, you could buy the shebeen many times over with the friendship gifts to you and yours. You could teach networkers about networking.

Enough of this small talk, Mr P.   Let’s draw up that movie deal for Oddfellas and buff up our Oscar acceptance speeches.

Yours in the quest for great South African films.

Richard

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How The West Won

Sunday, October 29th, 2017

Dear Mr President

You lost an opportunity to dent the confidence of the DA yesterday when the Sharks lost by the narrowest of margins (about 11 trifling points). I notice that some newspapers still call the other team Western Province, which proves my point that the DA have an Invictus - type project going to unite those wine farmers behind them. Though I am a good sport, I will be drinking only Namaqualand wines from now on.

I suppose we should congratulate that other team on achieving the narrowest of victories. I wish them a wonderful victory parade in driving rain. Feels good to be gracious in defeat.

Mr President, I still think that a commission of inquiry is called for, just to ensure that all was above board. As you well know, in sport, as in politics, things may not always be as they seem. For example, we thought for a long time that you were a real president, only to discover that your genius lies in the realm of mass entertainment. I suggest the following questions for all match officials and groundsmen:

Do you have relatives, friends or distant acquaintances in the Western Cape?
Have you been up Table Mountain and who paid?
Have you ever mistreated a banana?

I have several other penetrating questions and will mail them soon. One cannot be too careful. Talking of penetration, the other team did attack very well indeed with ball in hand. (Thought I’d use that phrase beloved of sportscasters, though I don’t see where else the ball would be - it’s not soccer). You might consider that Carr chap for your Christmas cabinet reshuffle. He twisted and turned his way past the excellent Sharks defence with the adroitness of a seasoned politician. No- one would ever be able to, for example, pin Saxonworld associations on him.

Well, Mr President, after a good final, it’s back to the boring business of dodg.., sorry, critical nuclear deals, inquiries and fending off the unwelcome attentions of the likes of Mmusi (now flushed with victory) and the irrepressible Julius.

I wish you interesting times.

Yours in the love of sport and sportsmanship.

Richard

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Out Of Africa. Being the diary of one Herbert Nosworthy, explorer, discovered by Richard J Mann while exploring hitherto undiscovered regions of the Germiston library

Saturday, October 21st, 2017

To my Noble Patron

Your Grace, we set forth from the Ruins of Zimbabwe, ruled with a cable of iron by one called Unclebob. Our journey through this part of the dark continent was fraught with perils. Chief among them the Zimbabwean border post, where the tiresome filling of documents brought strong men to their knees. Only our duty to His Majesty (long may he reign) and our beloved England sustained us, as did the desire to show faithful service to your gracious person.

At last we set foot upon the soil of that mysterious land South Africa, or Mzansi, as it is called in the native tongue. Colonel Bottomley was most desirous of meeting military men of the warlike Zooloo tribe, for their fame, as Your Grace well knows, has spread beyond their borders. It seemed fitting to me that our own gallant forces should not be ignorant of the stratagems and tactics of military men of foreign lands. We repaired with as much speed as the primitive terrain allowed to the land of the Zooloos.

There fortune smiled upon us, for our arrival coincided with a visit by that great chieftain, Umshowlozy. We mingled with the crowds at an address given by this august personage. The colonel remarked several men in warrior dress. Impressive in bearing and no doubt men of courage and skill, the colonel remarked that their primitive weapons would make them no match for His Majesty’s gallant troops. Of course, he added, such a military encounter was extremely unlikely. The address of the chieftain was interspersed with much giggling. He was clearly a man of genial disposition. To our not inconsiderable surprise, he suddenly burst forth into song, gyrating vigorously in what appeared to be a war dance. When the crowd joined in, the colonel began to fumble for his pistol but I assured him that the natives were in festive, not restless mood. He muttered that he could not conceive of young William Pitt cavorting in the Commons to the tune of Greensleeves.

We departed for the fabled City of Gold, where many warriors had gone to seek their fortunes digging for the precious metal or racing chariots for men of wealth. By day, beaten by the fierce African sun and by night our ears assailed by the roaring of wild beasts and the throbbing of tribal drums to a primitive music called quaito, we pressed on. Of gold there was little to see, but great mounds of rubbish filled the streets. The only gold that we espied was in the teeth of a most unprepossessing fellow who furtively attempted to sell to us, first timepieces, then his cousin. Many persons tried to press upon us meats cooked on open fires and other victuals. The colonel did purchase a quarter loaf of bread, hollowed out and stuffed with diverse meats, for he pronounced himself famished.

The natives, rushing to and fro with perplexing haste, were not unfriendly. Many hailed us in their own tongue with what sounded like ‘Howzit’ and ‘Aweh”. We did indeed remark many Zooloo charioteers. They hurtled through the streets, hurling their conveyances into the traffic as one imagines they once hurled themselves upon the foe in battle. They uttered fearsome oaths at any that dared hinder them. Indeed, a sight as fearful to behold as the clashing of cavalry in battle.

Surely many trials await us still as we explore this strange, savage land. We have heard tales of the Free State province, where giants roam the land. They are much given to a sport which resembles the  chaos and carnage of infantry charges  - all in pursuit of an oval ball, which once gathered, is then kicked away. This peculiar sporting event is consummated with the consumption of mounds of roasted flesh and gallons of ale. One never ceases to be surprised at the outlandish customs of the natives here. Out of Africa, always something new as Pliny or Aristotle or one of those Greek fellows opined.

I shall be diligent to write to you, Your Grace, of the next part of our journey in this savage, yet intriguing land.

Until then, I remain,
Your humble servant,
Herbert Nosworthy

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The Party Rock Anthem.

Wednesday, October 18th, 2017

Dear Mr President

I was so concerned about your recent silence that I contemplated sending a bucket of our traditional dish, KFC, to cheer you up.

It was most gratifying to see you come out of your corner swinging like Ali on steroids. You knocked us all out with another of those delightful surprises that keep the nation on its toes. We had no idea that you were quietly sharpening the blade (and in one instance, blunting The Blade). I cannot help but picture you as a jolly, Woody Allenesque version of the grim reaper, chuckling away with each swing of your scythe. Are you perchance planning a December shuffle also, as a Christmas gift to the country?

The Party Rock Anthem is probably best remembered for the line: “Every day I’m shuffling,” May I suggest that you add this song to your album? Why not lead a daily (toe the) line dance with your cabinet, to that cheery tune? Apart from the welcome change from that other song, it will remind ministers that their tenure depends on complete obedien…,er, performance. (Incidentally, did anyone ever actually bring you your machine gun?)

I read that some of your new ministers did not quite cover themselves with glory in previous roles. Also that some have been severely criticized for questionable links, actions or just for inaction (see Home Affairs, State Security and Communications, for instance). Was this a criterion for selection? Well done in applying it quite consistently. Cynics may say that you have motives other than performance and delivery. I, of course, believe that you are determined to keep the nation entertained at any cost. For that, I salute you. I see the Mzansified new Party Rock Anthem and the Zuma shuffle taking dance floors by storm. You continue to enrich our culture - among others.

Has Donald congratulated you yet on the stinging klap that you administered to the communists? This should bring you closer together, what with your shared interest in standup and ortho - oral gymnastics.

One dictionary definition of shuffling is ‘dragging one’s feel without lifting them’. Unkind souls would seize upon this to describe what you are doing. Staunch supporter that I am of your unique approach to government and entertainment, I simply say: ‘Shuffle on!’

Yours in the long shuffle to freedom.

Richard

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The Empire Strikes Back

Wednesday, October 4th, 2017

Dear Mr Mantashe
Just five minutes ago a hysterical headline screamed out that the ANC may be in a civil war. Please confirm whether this is merely what Donald termed fake news or whether we should start raiding Shoprite for canned goods. Can we expect a South African version of North versus South, with the clatter of chairs replacing the thunder of cannons? On that note, may I suggest the use of plastic or bolted - down chairs for future meetings. Perhaps we should extend that to plastic crockery and cutlery as a safety precaution.
Personally, I believe that this is a typical exaggeration by the white monopoly capital - controlled media. It’s when people start throwing tables that one ought to be concerned. Mr Mantashe, I believe that various elements have hatched a nefarious plot to discredit your organisation. Oh, knavery! Let us not forget that KZN was the last outpost of the British Empire and our British friends have a sentimental attachment to former colonies. I would therefore look for the involvement of MI5, MI6 and any other alphanumeric combinations those cunning islanders may have dreamed up. Our intelligence services have a superb track record of unearthing similar plots. I would put them to work immediately, or at least after lunch. To those who cry ‘paranoid ramblings’, two words: Bell Pottinger. Did not their Italian -made loafers walk on England’s green and pleasant land? I am not suggesting that they are behind the skullduggery but merely pointing out what tangled webs may be woven by that ‘nation of shopkeepers’. Lest I be accused of being xenophobic, let me point out that some of my best friends are British. Tony can confirm that. I also agree with the poet Ogden Nash that the British are sweet and always land on their own or someone else’s feet.
As for the Eastern Cape, we know how easily they are influenced. Political correctness and sensitivity constrain me from elaborating further than to allude to a historical incident involving large numbers of livestock.
Mr Mantashe, the pattern is clear.  KZN to Eastern Cape…The Western Cape is next and with its easygoing, wine - sipping approach to life, will be easy prey for those manipulative scoundrels. I suggest a pre-emptive expedition to that fair province. I am willing to join you, as I have insights to contribute. Any humble five star hotel will do as a base of operations. I read a news article which made reference to creative use of a large intelligence fund. My modest expenses should not pose a problem, as I am sure that one more million will not be sorely missed.
Mr Mantashe, one other nagging concern is that your party is beginning to resemble both the EFF and the DA with their exuberant approach to the conduct of meetings and their use of litigation. This will not do. We need diversity. Please do let me have an itinerary soon as I will need to arrange for leave from my day job.
Yours in the struggle against recycled colonialism.
Richard