Isn’t life just fab-u-lous!

She led with her chest as she hobbled into the Sandton coffee shop. Hobbled because that bastard of a personal trainer had really ground her this morning.

Thank God the Merc’s an auto, she thought. And thank God, no sag thanks to the implants … “Hello, Lovey!” she screeched across the room to her friend, tucking in her butt as she did so and grimacing as she walked over the pain of her aching knees.

Not going to give that little bitch the satisfaction of seeing me limp. Ten years is all she’s got on me but she thinks she’s Heaven’s gift to men.

Flopping into the chair, she whirled and barked at a waiter: “Skinny cappuccino and extra foam! And bladdy hurry up this time! Last time it was cold!” Her friend was nodding in agreement: “Listen, doll, just chill. You know this is one of Trump’s Third World shitholes …”

Taking the iPhone X out of her Louis Vuitton bag, she checked Facebook, talking at the same time: “Wasn’t Cyril just fab-u-lous! What a gorgeous man!” she looked around to see who was in earshot.

“He’d have me on my back in seconds.” Dabbing the cappuccino foam daintily off her top lip, her friend replied: “Absolutely! That man gets your hormones going, sweetie! “But seriously, John was so impressed he said we’ll stick around to see what happens.”

“You mean you’re not going? What about the place in London?”

Her friend nodded: “Ja, they’re still finishing it off. It’s Knightsbridge, which means it’s a poky little place anyway. So I don’t mind staying.”

“You’re right you know. If only there weren’t so many criminals and uncivilised people, this would be a great place to live.”

Both sat for a while in thought… “Well, you know Peter reckons Cyril will be good for business and stop all that Radical Economic Transformation rubbish.”

Her friend nodded: “Ja, but just in case, John was clever to get rid of the game ranch. It was a lovely place, all that bush and you didn’t have to get anywhere that rabble you see in Kruger.

“But he said 2 000 hectares was going to be an obvious target for the land thingy. Even though it was owned by the company – they got a huge tax write-off he always said.”

Her friend had one better: “Peter was thinking of offloading the place in Camps Bay. What a view … to die for! But that cow Patricia de Lille tried to name and shame us for using so much water and they didn’t want the money, they wanted us to save water.

“So, we’ve closed it up until after the rain comes back.”

Her friend nodded again: “That Steinhoff thing seems to worry John a lot. He’s been in and out to Zurich the last few weeks and he won’t tell me why. “Mind you, I don’t care as long as the credit card still operates!”

Talking about that reminded her: “Ja, we’re off to Aruba next week. First class! And the company’s paying!” They stood up to go, air kissing passionately, and ignoring the waiter’s peeved glance at his R5 tip.

“God! Everybody wants a handout these days! Nobody wants to work…”

Citizen acting deputy editor Brendan Seery.