TO: Robert Mugabe (The Right Honourable)
C/OSuite 16
The Despot’s Retreat
27 Welhidden Boulevard
Southern Bunker 891
Peking Postal Code 2178
Dear Sir,
Thank you for your recent email (Date: 30 March;
Subject:“What the hell were you people thinking?”)
I humbly apologise for our delay in reply, - your communication itself took some time in getting to us as it was linked to the election results.
Firstly I should, on behalf of our company Dictators-R-Us, offer our sincere regrets for the outcome of the Zimbabwe polls. Whilst this mis-hap was due to reasons beyond our control I hasten to give you our assurances that we have pulled out all stops in launching a damage control effort through which we hope to have a more positive result by the end of this week.
As you are I am sure aware, our company (established 1318bc) has long been the unrivalled leader in the Election Rigging industry, with many internationally acclaimed victories under our belt (including such great names as Bonapart, Mussolini, Hitler, Amin and, more recently, Bush). Thus when I promise to put the full weight of our best operations team behind your case, I am certain you will feel secure that returning to the podium of power is just a matter of time.
Whilst not wishing to make excuses for our failure in your recent elections, you did insist in your email that we disclose the exact cause for your near loss, so I shall endeavour to explain. You might not be aware that there have recently been one or two upheavals in the labour side of the election rigging industry, and for the past month we have been negotiating a new minimum wage rate. The Union has been pushing for 0.003% of bribe commission, plus an extra flat rate of US$5.73 (inclusive of GST) per act of intimidation in normal working hours (time and a half for after hour knee capping).
This would, of course, cause total collapse of all registered election rigging agencies, and a counter-offer of 0.00175% plus hospital benefits is still sitting on the table (or being passed under it, as is the norm in our game).
Coupled with this, in an effort to remain competitive in what is now a somewhat over-traded industry, “Dictators-R-Us” is also embarking on a diversification programme, and has recently launched a sister company:- ‘Sport Results 2 Suit Your Pocket’. Whilst this is an exciting new addition to our company portfolio (see attached brochure for the extensive range of international sports matches for which we can now proudly pre-arrange the final score) I regret it also resulted in our management being temporarily a little thin on the ground .
Fortunately all this has been sorted out, and I am now happy to state that we can once again assure you of our 110% commitment to providing the service that your ‘Diamond Star’ client status deserves. Indeed since we have withdrawn our top men from the ANC leadership case and instructed them to focus their attentions solely on ZANU PF, I have received numerous memoes detailing the progress made towards regaining your sovereignty.
To this end my Director of Operations (African Despot Division) has asked that I forward a number of recommendations to yourself, which might assist in fast-tracking your bid to retain presidency. Please feel free to comment on these via reply email.
1. Should there be a follow on, or ‘run off’ vote for the presidency, please refrain from posting individual results on the polling station doors - this makes adding thousands of additional ‘ghost voters’ rather difficult for us.
2. Press Conferences. A) Our Image department has asked that whilst talking on camera, you make every effort to desist from salivating and spitting. This is playing havoc with your make up and almost destroys the ‘Youthful and Still Quite Sane’ appearance they are trying to give you. If necessary a wad of cotton wool tucked next to the gums or a light sprinkling of cornflour under the tongue will absorb excess moisture. B) Please note that punching the air and singing old Chimurenga war songs is currently the modus operandi used by another of our clients. To ensure that your campaign retains its individuality might we suggest replacing these with something else? Perhaps a bit of classical piano or a basic pole-dancing routine might assist in increasing your vote-count with the Caucasian over sixties. (regrettably low at the moment).
3. Please tighten the reins on your wife. Sorry to appear personal, but whilst Grace is still reasonably good looking and obviously quite a catch for someone your age, we regret she isn’t doing much for your cause. Reliable information has come to light that she has been misappropriating funds in order to enjoy wild shopping sprees. Indeed US$180 000 earmarked for bribing high-ranking police officials, military personnel and editors of small community newspapers was squandered by her in a Paris boutique last week.
4. Bad-mouthing Tony Blair is so last year. Try a new tack - perhaps aimed towards the French president or someone else no-one cares about. This especially as we hear that the British government has put together a two billion pound a year package to rebuild the Zimbabwe economy. If you could perhaps mend your fences with them and get Mr Brown (he’s in power there now - we hope you got that memo) to agree to pass on that amount despite the fact that you are still in power, it will cover the cost of paying off your top-ranking Zanu PF colleagues and ensuring you are not ‘ousted from within’ (a fate which toppled our first Italian client, a Mr Caesar, some years ago).
Whilst on the subject of finances, our book-keeper has asked us to remind you that your account with us has lapsed to 90 (ninety) days. They have insisted that a payment be made no later than Friday 11April. Kindly fax through deposit slip for their records.
As failure to pay might result in your good name being blacklisted with all major financial institutions (including the Swiss ones!)
You’d be mad (Bob) if you didn’t!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Hey I'm a blogger
Sorry if I seem a little jittery, perhaps you might sense the panic in my … er…. ramblings, but there's an 'R' in our house, and I think it's driving me insane…. ?
Oh? What’s an 'R'? Let me explain, or at least try to.
You see I can't use the whole word. I don't ever say it, so I certainly won't be writing it anytime soon. Why? I'll be honest, it's because the very idea, the very thought of an 'R' terrifies me. In fact ‘terrify’ is not a strong enough word. 'R's change me into a shivering, quaking, nauseous wreck.
Does that make it clearer? No? You're still confused?? Well, it's a phobia I have. Let's see, how do you feel about snakes?…. Or perhaps spiders? Maybe creased bed linen? (now THAT you have to see a shrink about!) OK, multiply that feeling by 10 to the power of 78 zillion … and that's how I feel about 'R's. NO, not the letter 'R'! Let me try and give you a clue, (though it's difficult when I'm having heart palpitations.) I suppose if you said 'R' stood for 'rodent' that would be close but not dead on. I have no fear of rodents in general. Hey, I can do Rabbits, Raccoons, even Really Radical hamsters, but not 'R's. (by the way, if you're reading this out loud to someone you might want to apologise roundabout now - 'R's sounds a bit like a swear word I'm afraid)
Anyway I'm sure you get the idea. The 'R' I don't like, that I despise, that I will emigrate because of, is the small greasy job with an icky long tail and horrid little black eyes (no! not a rattle snake you fool!). And I just don't do them. Live ones, dead ones, big ones, small ones (definitely not ones as big as your head), white ones or grey ones, even cane ones. I just don't do them.
And we've got one. In our home. Our Castle. Our haven of safety. An 'R'.… ARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!No, really, I have to calm down. Regain my composure. Breathe… Breathe…. For arguments sake, I'll call him Richy. Why? (My, aren't you the inquisitive one today!) Because that's the name of the guy who stole my girlfriend. Can you believe it? He was my best mate when I was fifteen. And he took her from me. Without even asking, he phoned her up and….. no, that's another story. All I'm trying to say is that Richy was a real dirty 'R'.
So now we've got a Richy lurking in our home, somewhere. A nasty, cunning, sly little Richy, and I think, yep, judging by my watch by the end of the week I'll be insane.
We've tried to get rid of him. (It must be a ‘him’, because the thought of a 'her' 'R' in my home, giving birth to a whole lot of little 'r's is…….) no it's definitely a him. Yes of course. After all, Richy is a boy's name isn't it?
So we've tried to get rid of Richy. But it's not easy. Richy has special talents. Richy is really 'RICHY THE WONDER 'R'…. ' Faster than a speeding bullet, invisible to the human eye, the 'R' with a stomach of steel!'.
We don't see Richy. We only hear him, the sneaky little whiskered wally. And Richy's MOST AMAZING talent is that Richy is impervious to poison. Indeed Richy laughs in the face of poison. Richy eats poison for breakfast, and lunch, and supper.
Let me pause here to make another observation. If, by some strange chance, you wish to remain in my good books, here’s a bit of advice. You can talk about the petrol price going up, and you won't see me blink. Electricity increase? Ha! I laugh! (see me laugh. Ha ha!) Rates and taxes? No problemo either…. But please, PLEASE PLEASE don't tell me that 'R' poison has gone up in price. I just couldn't afford it. I'd have to sell everything I own…. and I would too!
Pause over. Yes, we are feeding Richy poison every night, and every morning. Sometimes we even pop home at lunchtime to feed him some. And if you’re worried about his health you needn’t be. Richy is getting a varied diet. He's had every different type of poison available on the market. And you know what? Richy loves it all! At night we hear him pitter pattering all over the house (the cunning little vermin has obviously developed an intricate tunnel system through our walls, ceilings and floor boards), gaily rushing from poison tray to poison tray, schlurping down pellets of all shapes and sizes blue ones, red ones, little ones big ones, and you know what? I think it’s making him stronger.
It's wearing Mrs Ed and me out. We aren't getting any sleep! Lying quivering in our bed listening to the pic poc pic poc pic poc PIC POC PIC POC pic poc pic poc pic poc as he runs past us in the ceiling above. Off to fetch the big green poison pellets in the cupboard under the stairs, (his aperitif!) then the pic poc pic poc pic poc PIC POC PIC POC pic poc pic poc pic poc over to the kitchen side for the blue jobs, yum yum ('with extra gravy flavour' - obviously). There he pauses for a quick ravage of the bread (effortlessly chewing through the packet of course), a nibble or two from the fruit bowl (only one bite from each piece, mind you, he doesn’t want to spoil his appetite) before pic poc pic poc pic poc PIC POC PIC POC pic poc pic poc pic poc -ing to poison pellet bowl number 3, in the lounge cupboard:- not quite so easily accessible (degree of difficulty 8.4 - there’s a small gap to squeeze through - on a full tummy too!).
Richy must be VERY fit, rushing about like that all night. He’s certainly efficient. Every morning, the poison pellets are all finished - not a crumb left. In fact some nights when he’s really hungry he eats the plastic poison plates too! Fortunately we don’t have a problem getting up in the morning to replace the poison - it’s not like we were getting any sleep in the first place.
But I must admit I’m enough of this dirty ‘R’. In fact I’ve declared out and out war:- I’m gonna get me a ‘C’! And that ‘C’ is gonna catch ol Richy one time! Why haven’t we thought of that before? Well Mrs Ed is allergic to ‘C’s so she would have to move out for a while..... Hmmm.... That would mean no Richy and No Mrs Ed... You know what? I’d be mad if I didn’t!
Oh? What’s an 'R'? Let me explain, or at least try to.
You see I can't use the whole word. I don't ever say it, so I certainly won't be writing it anytime soon. Why? I'll be honest, it's because the very idea, the very thought of an 'R' terrifies me. In fact ‘terrify’ is not a strong enough word. 'R's change me into a shivering, quaking, nauseous wreck.
Does that make it clearer? No? You're still confused?? Well, it's a phobia I have. Let's see, how do you feel about snakes?…. Or perhaps spiders? Maybe creased bed linen? (now THAT you have to see a shrink about!) OK, multiply that feeling by 10 to the power of 78 zillion … and that's how I feel about 'R's. NO, not the letter 'R'! Let me try and give you a clue, (though it's difficult when I'm having heart palpitations.) I suppose if you said 'R' stood for 'rodent' that would be close but not dead on. I have no fear of rodents in general. Hey, I can do Rabbits, Raccoons, even Really Radical hamsters, but not 'R's. (by the way, if you're reading this out loud to someone you might want to apologise roundabout now - 'R's sounds a bit like a swear word I'm afraid)
Anyway I'm sure you get the idea. The 'R' I don't like, that I despise, that I will emigrate because of, is the small greasy job with an icky long tail and horrid little black eyes (no! not a rattle snake you fool!). And I just don't do them. Live ones, dead ones, big ones, small ones (definitely not ones as big as your head), white ones or grey ones, even cane ones. I just don't do them.
And we've got one. In our home. Our Castle. Our haven of safety. An 'R'.… ARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!No, really, I have to calm down. Regain my composure. Breathe… Breathe…. For arguments sake, I'll call him Richy. Why? (My, aren't you the inquisitive one today!) Because that's the name of the guy who stole my girlfriend. Can you believe it? He was my best mate when I was fifteen. And he took her from me. Without even asking, he phoned her up and….. no, that's another story. All I'm trying to say is that Richy was a real dirty 'R'.
So now we've got a Richy lurking in our home, somewhere. A nasty, cunning, sly little Richy, and I think, yep, judging by my watch by the end of the week I'll be insane.
We've tried to get rid of him. (It must be a ‘him’, because the thought of a 'her' 'R' in my home, giving birth to a whole lot of little 'r's is…….) no it's definitely a him. Yes of course. After all, Richy is a boy's name isn't it?
So we've tried to get rid of Richy. But it's not easy. Richy has special talents. Richy is really 'RICHY THE WONDER 'R'…. ' Faster than a speeding bullet, invisible to the human eye, the 'R' with a stomach of steel!'.
We don't see Richy. We only hear him, the sneaky little whiskered wally. And Richy's MOST AMAZING talent is that Richy is impervious to poison. Indeed Richy laughs in the face of poison. Richy eats poison for breakfast, and lunch, and supper.
Let me pause here to make another observation. If, by some strange chance, you wish to remain in my good books, here’s a bit of advice. You can talk about the petrol price going up, and you won't see me blink. Electricity increase? Ha! I laugh! (see me laugh. Ha ha!) Rates and taxes? No problemo either…. But please, PLEASE PLEASE don't tell me that 'R' poison has gone up in price. I just couldn't afford it. I'd have to sell everything I own…. and I would too!
Pause over. Yes, we are feeding Richy poison every night, and every morning. Sometimes we even pop home at lunchtime to feed him some. And if you’re worried about his health you needn’t be. Richy is getting a varied diet. He's had every different type of poison available on the market. And you know what? Richy loves it all! At night we hear him pitter pattering all over the house (the cunning little vermin has obviously developed an intricate tunnel system through our walls, ceilings and floor boards), gaily rushing from poison tray to poison tray, schlurping down pellets of all shapes and sizes blue ones, red ones, little ones big ones, and you know what? I think it’s making him stronger.
It's wearing Mrs Ed and me out. We aren't getting any sleep! Lying quivering in our bed listening to the pic poc pic poc pic poc PIC POC PIC POC pic poc pic poc pic poc as he runs past us in the ceiling above. Off to fetch the big green poison pellets in the cupboard under the stairs, (his aperitif!) then the pic poc pic poc pic poc PIC POC PIC POC pic poc pic poc pic poc over to the kitchen side for the blue jobs, yum yum ('with extra gravy flavour' - obviously). There he pauses for a quick ravage of the bread (effortlessly chewing through the packet of course), a nibble or two from the fruit bowl (only one bite from each piece, mind you, he doesn’t want to spoil his appetite) before pic poc pic poc pic poc PIC POC PIC POC pic poc pic poc pic poc -ing to poison pellet bowl number 3, in the lounge cupboard:- not quite so easily accessible (degree of difficulty 8.4 - there’s a small gap to squeeze through - on a full tummy too!).
Richy must be VERY fit, rushing about like that all night. He’s certainly efficient. Every morning, the poison pellets are all finished - not a crumb left. In fact some nights when he’s really hungry he eats the plastic poison plates too! Fortunately we don’t have a problem getting up in the morning to replace the poison - it’s not like we were getting any sleep in the first place.
But I must admit I’m enough of this dirty ‘R’. In fact I’ve declared out and out war:- I’m gonna get me a ‘C’! And that ‘C’ is gonna catch ol Richy one time! Why haven’t we thought of that before? Well Mrs Ed is allergic to ‘C’s so she would have to move out for a while..... Hmmm.... That would mean no Richy and No Mrs Ed... You know what? I’d be mad if I didn’t!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)