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By Ben Trovato

Columnist


A few personal messages to the leaders of our political parties

It has been four days since the election results were announced and still there are no running gun battles in the streets.


Where are the burning cars? The Rooivalk helicopters firing on rampaging mobs? What’s the point in even having elections if they don’t end with an uprising? We have a lot to learn from the rest of Africa.

Anyway. I have a few messages for the leaders of the parties that took part.

 

Dear Cyril,

Congratulations on winning your first general election. And it really was all about you, in spite of what Ace Magashule says. He’s just jealous because your future is brighter than his. On the other hand, they keep the lights on all night at Grootvlei Prison, so his future could be a lot brighter than we imagine.

I don’t envy you, comrade president. Well, I envy your R6-billion fortune, your mansion in Cape Town, your fleet of luxury cars and the fact that you have an entire army at your disposal. But apart from that, I don’t envy you.

The pressure must be crippling. You barely had time to break out the Armand de Brignac and coelacanth carpaccio before the huddled masses were clawing at your heels, making all manner of delusional demands for a better life. That’s the problem with the bloody bourgeoisie. This will be the sixth time that the ANC won’t have kept its election promises and they still don’t get it. Your patience and restraint is admirable. If it were me, I would have the lot of them shot. Right now, though, I am looking forward to your upcoming flagship event. CabinetMania 2019! Even though there’s a massive SmackDown coming their way, the losers won’t go without a fight. Good luck, champ. We are counting on you.

 

Dear Mmusi,

Condolences to you and your family. Try to remember it’s not winning that counts, it’s how you play the game. Oh, who am I kidding. Coming second in any election is like coming second in a boxing match. And while you might have been expecting a bloody nose, you couldn’t have predicted just how much blood you would lose. Particularly white blood cells, which streamed out of your party and into the hardened arteries of the Freedom Front Plus. In the end, you lost five seats in the house. That’s nothing. I once lost an actual house. Okay, it was in a divorce, but still.

I hope your self-esteem is holding up. Six people once voted against me joining their club and I was devastated. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be president of a club and have half a million members grab their things and run for the door at the worst possible time. That’s the least of it. They then go around the corner and join another club where the only black people are those serving drinks.

Time to get extreme, my friend. I hear you’re a bit of a Christian. Get rid of that. It’s a noose around your neck. This is not the time for loving thy neighbour and turning the other cheek. I’m not suggesting you sign up with the Satanists, although their slogans are way more catchy that those of the Democratic Alliance, but I do think it might be time to crank up the testosterone levels. You have already publicly put your wife in her place for being white, but that’s not enough. You know what I’m saying. You grew up in Soweto. Hire a good a lawyer and do what comes naturally.

 

Dear Julius,

Well done on coming third in the elections! Okay, fine. Third sucks. My athletics career was dashed when I kept coming third in the egg and spoon race. But did I cry and run home to my mommy? Yes, I did. Had I been older, though, I would have stolen everyone’s eggs and sold them on the street, set fire to the track and used the spoon to beat my maths teacher to death. And had I not been cursed with the misfortune to be born white, I might well have gone on to become your third-in-command.

You are certainly growing in popularity, my son. May I call you my son? Your posters did, after all, proclaim you to be a son of the soil. I’m not a big fan of soil at the best of times, but I have always wanted a son. Especially one that brings in R1.3-million a year plus perks.

You picked up seven hundred thousand votes since 2014. How the hell did you do that? In the last five years all I picked up was a nasty infection. Thanks Crystal, if that’s your real name.

You now have forty-four seats in parliament. Are they bolted to the floor? If not, I hope you use them to maximum effect. You have also added Mpumalanga to the list of provinces in which you are official opposition. When I say list, I mean North West and Limpopo. Nice work, though. It doesn’t matter if all three have a combined GDP of R28.50 and a bit of a witchcraft problem. You are economic freedom fighters. Nothing can beat you. Well, nothing apart from the ANC and the DA.

 

Dear Pieter,

Groetings. Is that how you say greetings in Afrikaans? I hope so. I don’t want you thinking I am one of those stupid rednecks who stand with one foot in South Africa and the other in England while their willy dangles in the sea. I remember in the army the corporals used to call me Salt Penis and I wondered what they were doing to me while I was asleep but now I know what it means and I feel much better, thank you.

Well done on the Freedom Front Plus coming forth in the elections. Forth is worse than third but you will remember that the Lord said to John, “Come forth and receive eternal life” but he came fifth and won a toaster.

To be honest, Oom, I was shocked to hear that you got nearly half a million votes. I thought most white people were already on their second marriages in Perth and New Zealand. Oh, right. They could also vote. I don’t know any white people who voted for you. Actually, the only white people I know wouldn’t have made it to the polling booths in time to vote for anyone. They are pathetic examples of the noble Caucasian race and they will be sorry when you are president one day.

 

Dear leaders of the thirty-four parties that never won a seat,

It really is a crying shame that you did so poorly. Let me put that another way. I am crying with laughter at your shame. I do apologise. I am presently out of beer and my mood has soured. What in god’s name were you thinking, wasting good money to get on the ballot when you must have known that only your family and friends would vote for you? Don’t shrug your shoulders and look at your feet. You must have known. How could you not have? How can anyone be filled with so much hubris that they misjudge their popularity this badly? Were you all drunk and stoned when you decided to contest the election? That would be the only acceptable excuse. Stay out of politics and leave it to the professionals.

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