Busy Bee, Wikileaks, the Devil’s idle hands and Jehovah was a witness

Oops, sorry for not posting for a while. I have been a very busy bee. This is good because I notice things can go terribly wrong when I am not occupied.

Saying that, I should always be occupied because if I am a writer - I should be writing in my spare time. Sometimes though even I need a break but sadly the time seems to be spent being naughty.

Talking about being naughty, I was reading this book yesterday. It is called Simply the Pest. It is about a  lunatic kid growing up in some place in Africa. Rather funny I must say. So there I was giggling over the antics of what is rather apparently a very disturbed individual when I happened to notice that my fridge seemed to be missing a few things.

Mainly the magic nectar stored in brown bottles. This was not good. What do you do? What you shouldn’t do is wander off to the centre of this one horse town (less the horse) pondering the fate of some stupid kid.

Whilst waiting at the bus stop (sod walking there), I had a strange desire to look like Julian Assange. That’s that bloke who is always getting into trouble for having a leak that pisses a load of people off. So wandering around my local supermarket I spot a packet of get white hair instant gunge and thought ‘yeah why not’;. I suppose many people could tell me why not but did that ever deter me?

Back in my pad I sort of read the instructions which are in German. I understand quite a lot of German even more so after some more bottles of golden nectar. I mix up the stuff and have a right merry old time rubbing it all over my hair when –

‘Ding Dong’

Me thinks ‘Such luck, AVON is here, I hope she is a right cracker.’

I push the ‘Let them in’ button, open the door (semi naked with my hair standing on end steaming of peroxide and lo and behold guess what wanders in? A morph in a light purple shirt with a dark purple tie. Hah hah. I was at that exact moment scrolling through the chapter called ‘Losing my religion’, and I am confronted by non other than a witness straight from Jehovah.

One look at me and the bloke’s hands (full of those magazines with poorly drawn pictures of happy families) were shaking like some drug addict on serious withdrawal symptoms. I eagerly took the opportunity to tell him that back in the ‘good old days’ people like him were either kicked to death, mauled by the dog or were dragged screaming to Chikarubi prison and caned so hard that they were put into hospital. Rightly so because as the Bush War progressed so did the increase of young men who seemed suddenly converted and couldn’t go off to get slaughtered because the good Lord said it wasn’t the thing to do. (Though shall not kill or something like that.)

To add insult to injury I recalled another bit and quoting from the context of the story asked him if he had a black ‘kaffir’ bike. (You all know I never use any form of derogative or racist words unless part of a scenario I am describing.)

Well, he ran away leaving me amused at my own wit. I wandered into the shower and rinsed my head thoroughly and applied a sachet of something and waited another bottle or two. Then I noticed something strange. I looked in the mirror and the reflection was of a ‘gomo’!

Now all Rhodesians know that a ‘gomo’ is a large granite outcrop. However, according to the urban dictionary it is also a ginger headed homosexual. I was in deep trouble and decided I would tell the world. So I fired off a few witty lines onto Facebook, made my dinner, watched Russell Crowe stab a few people in Gladiator and went to bed.

Erm…this morning I received more surprises. Firstly, I still look like a gomo. Secondly I have yet again been banned on Facebook. It would appear some smart alec took umbrage to my fine satirical wit. This could turn out to be rather a sticky problem because they have some kind of rule of three strikes you out. We will see.

Now that still leaves me looking like a gomo. I am pondering my next move. Logic dictates I should maybe get another packet of the stuff and see what happens. Eish – I am in the kak!

Thirdly – I realised that the inane child in the book is…ME!