Project Oreo goes Loco

The heavy Karoo heat hanging oppressively over the simple, Boer War era train station at Matjiesfontein was ripped apart by the booming music from the speakers next to the blue carpet on the simple platform.

“Everybody’s doing a brand-new dance, now (Come on baby, do the Loco-motion).

I know you’ll get to like it if you give it a chance now (Come on baby, do the Loco-motion).”

Tannie Helen turned to Johnnie Boy Leader and muttered: “Why the hell didn’t you use Midnight Train to Georgia by Gladys Knight and the Pips? We want to encourage more darkies…”

“But, Tannie,” whined Johnnie Boy Leader, “Little Eva did the song first and she was black! In fact, she was a maid at one stage…” Tannie Helen was mollified but his comments sent her train of thought in another direction: “Talking about maids, who’s going to be serving drinks on the train?” “Well,” began Johnnie Boy Leader, “I was going to get Mbali Ntuli to do it, along with Gwen Ngwenya, but Mbali’s got the huff because we wouldn’t let non-party members into the town hall debate she wanted to hold…” Tannie Helen stomped her clogs.

“You try and do things for these people and this is how they repay you…” “Exactly, your Righteousness,” fawned Johnnie Boy Leader, “Look at Mmusi and how he wanted to turn us into the Communist Party… never mind that cheap cosmetics salesman Herman cuddling up to the EFF!” Tannie Helen glanced along the platform at all the rich white people in their furs and jewels: “Johnnie Boy! I thought I told you to get some colour in here… everybody is going to be saying we’re just a party for the honkys…

“Tannie, Project Oreo (you know white on the inside and … err) didn’t go very well.

University students just laughed at us before going back to bonking, boozing and burning… hey, that’s quite good, I should use that in my speech.”

He continued: “The people in the township weren’t too impressed either – even the offer of a tuxedo wasn’t enough and, apparently, they don’t like caviar…”

Johnnie Boy Leader was happy, though. No journalists had got invites because they were all pro-ANC and he had blocked so many others on Twitter, he was left to sending out invites to his own family.

Still, he thought, the last thing we need is a debate.

Not so, Mbali? He tapped the champagne glass. “Ladies, gentlemen and donors, welcome aboard the Blue Train! The only gravy you’re going to find on this train is on the superb five-star cuisine.

Join us on our Cruise to Nowhere, safe in the knowledge you won’t be derailed by common sense or morality!” He looked at the nodding heads in the crowd: “And, feel free to Express yourself (geddit? Har, har har) about how we should protect your wealth and assets and your lifestyle!”

“And,” he smirked, “you already know how we deal with whistleblowers…” Tannie Helen grabbed the mic. “All aboard! All aboard! Remember – don’t leave any of your baggage (from Colonialism or the Nats) behind.

We have a massive carriage at the back because all of us have got so much baggage. There’s plenty of space on the Blue Train….” In a cloud of steam and smoke (from Johnnie Boy Leader as well as the locomotive), the Blue Train began moving and then chugged smoothly off to the Right (Tannie Helen had set the points earlier).

Brendan Seery.

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