adminWho am I?
I am some worse than mediocre musician who has been struggling to capitalise on my late father’s fame. Someone needs to tell me that just because I look like my dad and inherited his clothes that does not make me a musician. The album I have just released proves that I need to get a day job and stop dreaming that I will ever make it in music beyond living in the shadow of my father’s glory. My voice just does not work with the outfit that I inherited and one day I will admit it.
But I guess for now I will stick with it. For in what other profession can you find women coming to you from all corners? There are the older and full bodied sele specialists as well as the naïve ones who think getting pregnant will get them married.
I am glad to be of service to all of them. At least if I cannot be a good musician I will be a legendary Casanova
Goodbye Mr “Bhaleti Bhaleti”
We are in a celebratory mood this weekend. In fact, so happy are we that we are not looking for anyone to do the honours and will stand a round of drinks to any comers at the usual place. Yes, you guessed it. The long overdue exit of Mr “Bhaleti” is the reason for our merriment. We are not sure of the exact reason why he has been shown the door, but we are over the moon.
And anyway we need no other reason beyond our own list of complaints which is as long as our arm. So comprehensive is the list that would have guaranteed that his head dropped neatly in the basket if he had been unfortunate enough to be a noble with us as the rabble during the French revolution.
First and overriding all his other many transgressions is the failure to get rid of one Cuthbert Dube. We do not care what statutes there may be or any of that nonsense. What we are sure is that any minister serious about his job would have sent Cuthbert packing a million years ago. We hope the new incumbent is reading this.
We will not even bother to tabulate his other sins. As far as we are concerned the jury never even needed to leave the room to reach the unanimous decision of “guilty as charged”. Goodbye and good riddance “Mr Bhaleti Bhaleti”. Your mumbles and fumbles as you tried to give speeches will not be missed.
Of live snakes
We know that you have automatically assumed that we want to talk about serpents inherited from deceased mothers who trekked along railway lines as they came from foreign lands famed for the ability of their citizens to defy all scientific laws when it comes to harming fellow human beings.
For the record, this story has only strengthened our resentment against the whole long line of our progenitors.
They not only failed to be the cleverest, strongest or most ruthless or whatever it is that makes the rich richer while the poor remain poor. Thus they failed to leave us any tangible material heritage. But to then fail to even endow us with the power of the dark arts? Fie, useless clans!
But that is not the bone we want to chew right now. We laughed at how Cuthbert Dube took the criticism that was directed at him from the highest places and immediately shifted it to his colleagues. Sounds like the proverbial flicking of a live snake.
Even drunken sods like us know that blame shifting is the privilege of clueless persons who just cannot admit that they have failed. So please man up Mr Dube, and just do the right thing. Just in case you are wondering what that is we will help you out: Resign and let Football come back to life in the country once again.
Subtlety becomes promiscuity
The digital era may just be what the doctor ordered for mending the rotten fabric of our moral fibre. Or maybe just to pretend. It has come to Bra Gee’s attention that the high and mighty are now afraid of flaunting their trophy mistresses at public gatherings even if they are for the elite.
Now instead of walking into the venue with their army candy attached, the gaudy mistresses come alone and often arrive first.
The important men, fearing hidden cameras, then stroll in a while later and pretend not to know their lovers for the first hour or so of the function.
Although they eventually end up in the same group, there is no overt hanky panky and when it is time to leave the mistress goes out first, presumably to wait outside for Sugar Daddy who follows her out a few minutes later and off they go to do whatever it is such people do when they leave the public eye.
Now Bra Gee would like to tell these people that they are not as clever as they want to believe.
This trick was known to our grandmothers who used it to sneak off the jiti dance floor on full moon nights for hot-bloodied assignations with our real grandfathers, not the men whose surnames we carry.
In other words, your attempts at hypocrisy is wasted on us and we still know who is playing hide-the-sausage with who.
Gossip: For the love of flight
Rumour has it that some local musicians have gone on a tour to lands far away.
Which is all very fine because entertainers should grow their audiences and embrace opportunity with both hands.
But we are told that all they got was $200 each and the price of their tickets and a place to stay which is not even a hotel but the promoter’s home. If they are so cheap we wonder what they would do if they saw real money on the table. Come to think of it, we really would rather not go there.
Last Call: Getting the sack
In honour of the booted fellow we bring you a few one liners in the worst taste even we could sink down to:
I used to be an optician, but I made a spectacle of myself.
I worked on screen doors, but I strained myself.
I used to work as a hot-air balloon pilot, but my status was up in the air.
I used to work in a frozen food factory, but I got fresh and then they canned me.
I used to work in a dairy. I got fired for getting in the whey.
I lost my job at the massage parlour. I rubbed people the wrong way.
I wanted to get a job as a gynaecologist, but I couldn’t find an opening.
I was working in an orange juice factory, but I couldn’t concentrate. – funny2.com
Till next week, bottoms up!
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