The War on Terror

Greetings and may everlasting health be upon you. Please clean your teeth diligently. I am having to learn the hard way and believe me, it hurts like hell!

I have had to stop working on LOTR the last few days because another Open University, teacher marked assignment is due on the 4^th. I am studying the course Creative Writing at the moment. The last TMA was quite cool because I used the opportunity to re do some of my memoirs (Death of A Stupid Cow), but this time I had to write a piece of fiction.

I thought of something along the lines of a man who goes mad with pain, pulls all his teeth out and goes on a murderous campaign blowing up all websites that promote toothpaste that stops cavities.

In the end I decided to settle on a story I did before (The Great Welsh Cockle Wars), but expand it to reach the word count required. Writing for the Blog is one thing, because people don’t have to pay to read it, but if I really want to get people to cough up bucks for a book, it has to be tip top. Thus the courses I am doing. I had to rewrite this new version 14 times before I think I got it almost right.

So here it is, renamed and hopefully entertaining enough for you to want to read till the end. All comments appreciated and I will also tell you later what my mark was.
I decided to add a few pictures for a laugh.

The War on Terror

Commander James Tea Jerk, Royal Navy, (Semi-Retired), absent mindlessly scratched at his high-tech wooden prosthesis (an exact replica of Long John Silver’s), protruding out of his immaculately ironed white uniform shorts. He swore loudly as a large splinter buried itself deep under the finger nail of his index finger.

‘Chippie, up on the bridge, now!’ he screamed into the intercom, ‘and bring some sandpaper.’

From the bridge of his latest command, he gazed out at the busy summer scene. Hoards of small leisure boats, full of excitable, shouting kids and parents were criss-crossing around him. The HMS Dump, a woodworm rotted, rat abandoned pontoon, fixed permanently into the silt of Mawddach estuary, North Wales since 1963, felt as solid as Custer’s last stand under his foot. The warm breeze caressed his flash-burnt shiny head and brought the scent of salt and suntan oil to his flattened nose. The Royal Navy and Union Jack flags could be heard flapping lazily from their masts on the bridge’s hole riddled roof.

Pulling the splinter out with his teeth, Jerk thought back to the time, two years ago, of the fierce battle for the Nigerian delta. During the engagement, whilst commanding the H.M.S. Sinkfast, he had lost half of his body parts, plus his genuine Star Trek logo embossed plastic wallet. The vessel had spectacularly exploded after he had made the decision to scuttle the £1.2 billion state of the art battleship. Rather that, than let the enemy, disguised as giant Golliwogs aboard five dug out canoes, enter the delta and sabotage the British owned oil refinery. Due to having a rather large piece of his frontal lobe incinerated during the explosion, Jerk had no recollection of the incident at all. However, he knew he had done his country proud. The resulting devastation had destroyed the enemy, but tragically, 800 hands had also gone up with the ship. Jerk knew that more sacrificial lambs could be expected today - oblivion for the few to save a safe haven for the many.

The remaining two digits on his right hand wandered almost instinctively to the well fingered MBA medal (Missing Bits in Action), that he wore with pride over his collapsed left breast. Shifting uncomfortably on his chair, the absent right buttock making sitting up straight difficult, he spoke to his second in command.

‘You look an absolute mess, Number 1. Any sign of the filthy terrorists yet?’

In the rumpled uniform, First Officer Simon Simpleton lowered the binoculars with tremulous hands from his exhausted bloodshot eyes. Simpleton replied to his commanding officer.

‘All I see are waves full of civilians and they have doubled. Sir, I do not feel very well. I need to go below for a moment – my bowels are playing up.’ His urge to drink himself to the oblivion had almost succeeded last night. The First Officer’s undernourished body shook violently as he vomited a thin stream of cheap vodka and Red Bull, his fear of what was soon to happen was palpably visible on his pasty face.

Simpleton was riddled with self-guilt. Too cowardly to kill himself, he had become obsessed with the thought that heavenly redemption would only be given if he stuck by Jerk and got blown up again; with some luck, this time with success.

When the H.M.S. Sinkfast had spectacularly self exploded, Simpleton had been the only other survivor. He had provided the testimony at the official inquiry, all of it a pack of hysterical lies coming out of his bony arse. From that load of shit, Jerk had been handsomely compensated and given the H.M.S. Dump as a retirement command. Simpleton rarely spoke to Jerk about that moment of truth. On that fateful night he had desperately struggled with his conscience. He had two choices; either to shoot his commanding officer and let the terrorists destroy Britain’s desperately needed fuel for the latest models of four wheel drives, or to sacrifice the ship and crew. This would send a message around the world (clutched in the hundreds of hands that went up with the ship), ‘help us, the Captain is mad!’…

Jerk’s shiny glass eye stared at the First Officer sympathetically,

‘Go ahead, Number One, I’ll keep my real eye on things.’

Simpleton headed towards the stairs, passing the pontoon’s live-in yob whom had now appeared clutching a roll of sandpaper.

Chippie had turned up from the below where he had been engrossed in filing his teeth into sharp triangles. A gruff, but gentle kid, he was intent to prove that his bight could be worse than his bark. He was also completely and utterly stoned out of his head. (Chippie’s home grown skunk was famed in the region.)

‘Give us ya leg Captain, I’ll sand the bugger good this time, got to keep ya on your toes if we gonna catch them sneaky slitzzies.’

Jerk hated Chippie talking like this. He had been trying to educate the boy ever since he had found out that Chippie came with the ship as its live-in security guard.

‘They are pretending to be illegal Chinese cockle poachers, Chippie, and please refrain from such racial inferences, otherwise it is my right to have you keel hauled, if we ever get afloat.’

As Chippie got to work on the splitting parts of his prosthesis, Jerk addressed the dopey youth,

‘What is our official duty here, Chippie?’ he asked.

‘To act as an unenforceable deterrent to Jet-Ski tourists disregarding the council’s boundary limits.’ Chippie replied helpfully, if not a tad incoherently, a half finished joint waggling between his thin lips. As he vigorously sanded at Jerks wooden leg, he continued, ‘but we now know, thanks to you Capt’n, they are really terrorists disguised as cockle thieves.’

‘Correct, my dear Chippie, and why the hell are you smoking that shit, you idiot?’

Suddenly he sat up shouting loudly ‘I smell gas. It is not the time yet.’ He jerked his leg from Chippie’s grasp and leapt up with the uncontained primeval shiver of hunter’s lust.

‘Sorry Capt’n,’ Chippie grinned his shark smile, as he flapped his palms vigorously behind him, ‘that was a really mean lamb vindaloo for lunch, Capt’n, and with all them Carlsberg’s Special Brew I had on top…’ he shrugged apologetically.

He adored Jerk as a father figure. He could listen to the Commander for hours, as he regaled every evening the tales of heroism by his ancestors. In those intimate shared moment he would lie on the pile of stinking, flea infested lifejackets, wishing he had been there.

For a fraction of a second, Jerk smiled at Chippie with a rare sign of affection, but then immediately again became the professional officer that he was.

‘Put that joint out! It will make you insane, you imbecile. Go and open all the stop cocks on the gas bottles – and Chippie,’ the red watery eyes of the 17 year old looked at him in pure adoration, ‘no more naked flames!’

Jerk took his eye away from the sparkling estuary, now filled with thousands of happy holiday makers. He stared with growing pride at the only decoration on the bridge; a gilt framed oil painting of his great, great grandfather, Lord Pussyfoot Jerk of Kent. The born again alcoholic had been massacred, along with another 1499 troops at Isandlwana, Natal, South Africa during the Zulu War. Rumours still went around that the man was so drunk on his watch that he fell off his perch and therefore neglected to send out a warning cry of, ‘Oh, I say, old chaps, but there appears to be thousands of those assegai armed black savages, approaching with the intent to disembowel us.’

The Commander allowed a small grin to cross his lips, ‘They were men of men,’ he muttered admirably to himself.

The sounds of gleeful shrieks of happy holiday laughter penetrated Jerk’s eardrum. For the last time, Jerk went mentally, once more, over the information that had been passed to him in The Last Dossers pub. According to a reliable source (carefully nurtured the last six months with free beers), at 3 pm today, as the tide came in, the terrorists would sneak up the estuary unnoticed. They would be cleverly disguised as tourists in black wet suits, riding rented Jet-Skis.

According to the informant, Albert Blackman, the terrorists will sabotage the local fish and chips shops, then go on to plunder one of Britain’s last cockle beds and sell them duty free to Chinese restaurants in Beijing. Jerk had no reason to distrust the information, as the man was a true patriot. Albert always struggled to get his words out, as his tongue had been partially amputated. This terrible tragedy had happened whilst holidaying in 1967, when Albert had stopped over in The Three Ks motel in Whitesville, Alabama.

. Covered in dark mud from having had to dig his car out of a ditch, he had announced to the White hooded and clad receptionist, ‘I am A. Blackman and I have a reservation here.’ They were to have been his last intelligible words…

Based on the top intelligence gathered from Albert, Jerk had tried to persuade the navy to install on the pontoon sixteen 22-inch battery guns. The navy had declined, quoting the local council’s Health and Safety regulations and a shrinking budget. The hero of the Nigerian Delta refused to be dissuaded. That experience from two years ago could now be put to good effect - if he could only recall any of it. For the last couple months, 126 giant bottles of household cooking gas had been purchased and stored below. All connected together, by the willing Chippie who had been supervised by a terrified Simpleton, they were only stopped from expelling their deadly fumes by the handle mounted on the commander’s chair.

Jerk looked at his wrist watch. Mickey Mouse’s white gloved minute hand showed three to, whilst the other hand pointed at three, too.

‘They will not get through on my watch. Not whilst there is still breath in my right lung left,’ he babbled, whilst cackling to himself. His team had worked tirelessly on the plan to stop the raiders and now everything was ready. It was time to eliminate the terrorist scum and send them to Allah and the 70 virgins.

Jerk gazed once more upon the tranquil scene, which at any moment now, he would turn into a holocaust. He had no illusions that when the pontoon exploded, hundreds would be blasted to oblivion, or torn to shreds from flying metal and wood fragments. Innocent civilians are always caught in the crossfire in the deadly war against terrorism. It’s a hard knock life!

‘They’re coming,’ Jerk shouted into the intercom, his only ear tuned to the sounds of the approaching roars of the Jet-Skis. Dozens of them, heavily loaded with the terrorists who were now heading his way, some waving arrogantly in his direction – oblivious to the fact that their evil attack would soon be stopped.

‘Chippie, Simpleton, report to the bridge and stand-by for action; RED ALERT!’ At the same time, Jerk pulled the bright red lever to ‘Open’ and the gas started to flood into the pontoon. Timing was critical. As he waited for his two shipmates, Jerk limped briefly out onto the deck. Throwing up his arm, he saluted the holiday makers.

‘You will not be forgotten!’

A few faces glanced in his direction. A sun burnt bright pink fat girl, could be heard to shout,

‘Hey everyone; look at the fucking freak on the shit-heap, doing his nutty navy stunt. What a wanker!’

Back on the bridge, Simpleton and Chippie gathered around their Captain. The hiss of the expelling gas was now drowned out by the noise of the bouncing Jet-Skis. Commander James T. Jerk MBA, took 3 Cuban cigars out his top right breast pocket. Handing them out, he winked and tugged his shirt down, smoothing out the wrinkles. As the stench of gas reached his nostrils, he said,

‘we are Men of Men! As Officers of the Realm, it is our duty to protect our sacred shores. Have any of you got any last words for this historic occasion?’

Chippie chirped up first, enthusiastically quoting the great Neil Armstrong.

‘Wicked! Like a giant kind man leaping and a small man stepping.’

‘Am I going to die now?’ the first officer asked hopefully.

‘Have you completely lost your marbles, Simpleton? (Actually he had.) I will detonate the gas with the Ferry pistol, once we have reached a safe distance in the escape dingy,’ Jerk replied to the dejected Simpleton. He then continued,

‘well done ship mates. Not since the Battle of Britain, have so few, done in so many. Our shores will once more be safe from terrorists. Let this be a warning to them all. God Save the Queen; may she live long and prosper! Now remember, don’t light the cigars till the fat lady sings! Okay?’

Chippie sniffed appreciatively at the cigar in his hand. ‘Isn’t that from the movie Independence Day?’, he asked sleepily, as he flicked the wheel on his newly stolen Zippo lighter.

ZIMBABWE : Ploughing Inflation Under

Zimbabwe has decided to correct some more colonial wrongs by reissuing the First Day Cover : Rhodesia 26^th April 1968 15th World Ploughing Contest.

The word Rhodesia will be replaced with Zimbabwe. The stamps will then be presented in reverse order to better represent the enormous agricultural progress since the land thieving whites were kicked off to be replaced by their rightful owners.

The denominations will be also changed.

1. Whiteman on tractor, Rhodesia 2 shillings and sixpence, will now be Zimbabwe $ 2,5 million.
2. Steam powered tractor, Rhodesia 1 shilling, will now be Zimbabwe $10 million
3. Ox and plough, Rhodesia 9 pence, will now be Zimbabwe $ 90 million
4. Bush plough, Rhodesia 3 pence, will now be Zimbabwe $ 3 trillion

Concerns have been raised by the printers that the last stamp may have to be enlarged to the size of an A4 envelope to accommodate the necessary zeros.

Teeth, Hobbits and It’s The Economy, Stupid!

Apologies for not updating recently, but I have been very busy having another hole put into my head. This wasn’t the plan, but after all the agony, there was no ecstasy (unless you get a kick out of having needles squirting anaesthetic shoved half way into your brain), so it had to come out. Even after all the root canal surgery, it could not be saved. Yuck…I have got the little bastard in a plastic bag now, the one who has caused me so much misery these past few weeks. It is not a pretty sight. I thought I would take some pics of it and put them up here. You would see the thing riddled with holes and complete with a little bag of pus dangling between those funny bits which keep the molar imbedded in the skull. However, not wishing to put people off my Blog, I decided against it.

I will not put it under my pillow for the fairy either. Last time I did that, the fairy wanted to root my canal! Then he offered me ten pounds if I let him suck my toes! That little story will be told in LOTR (Last Of The Rhodesians),part two - presuming of course part one gets finished, before there is only one Rhodesian left to buy it.

Whilst on the London tube, on the way to see my Dentist (I went to school with him - showing off a bit here – his Daddy was Ian Smiths election campaign manager. Although, come to think of it, it couldn’t have been a hard job. All they had to do was print on the posters, ‘Vote for Smithy! OR hordes of marauding Commie Insurgents will steal your farms and rape your bank accounts!’), anyway, there I was reading one of the freebee newspapers and I came across a list of the top 10 best grossing films in the UK of all time.

AND – you will gasp in amazement, ALL three parts of my memoirs are in there! I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t finished writing part one yet, but some bloke called Jackson has filmed the lot and not even given me any credit at all! I was also a little suspicious of the plot. In his version of LOTR, Robert Sauron Mugabe loses to Ian Gandalf Smith with the help of the Selous Hobbit Scouts. Then King Arrogant (that is presumably me), shacks up with some skinny bint who looks like Spok with long hair. When I get around to it, I will sue that Jackson fella, as soon as he makes another hit record because I read that he is penniless now. Something to do with little boys and toys….

The latest book about Rhodesia/Zimbabwe I am reading at the moment is quite interesting. It is written by Doris Lessing and is called, African Laughter, which is a bit odd, because I am already on page 128 and no one in the book is laughing and me on the outside isn’t either. This particular lady (it is well worth a look at her credentials, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doris_Lessing), was booted out by the government of Southern Rhodesia for being a Commie shit-stirrer. Now she returns to Zimbabwe in 1982 and makes her reflections and comments. Some of them are gems. Here is one from page 43.

In reply to her brother (he had never got on with her), who had pointed out that Mugabe surrounds himself with armed guards and travels in a huge protected motorcade –

‘You don’t think that there might be some connection between putting up security fences and white louts turning up to jeer and shout threats? You don’t think Mugabe goes around in a motorcade because you people would cut his throat as soon as look at him?’

Actually, the only thing Doris has wrong is that the word white should be replaced with black.
During another argument with her brother Harry, she makes this observation (page 48). You will love this one –

I said he talked as if the whites of Southern Rhodesia were all remarkable and valuable, but many were poor material from any point of view. When they were good they were very very good, skilful, adaptable, full of expertise, but the rest were limited, unintelligent, with that kind of complacency that can only go with stupidity. They would not easily get jobs any where else and the blacks were only too lucky to have got rid of them.

THANK YOU, thank you, Doris – at last I now know why my schoolmate is a highly successful Dentist, and I am a penniless bum. I always thought it was because I talked too much in class and messed about! Well, that’s what it says on my school reports. It just shows how kind my teachers were. They would rather write that, than tell my parents the truth –

This pupil is a classic example of thick as complacent white Rhodesian shit, of limited stupidity and come the revolution, he will not get a job.
----

Well, Independence Day has been and gone and Mad Bob Mugabe explained that all Zimbabwe’s woes are not his fault but are because of …blah blah blah (too boring to write the same shite ad nauseum again). BUT, I picked up this super little quote from the Industry minister Obert Mpofu. Visiting a Bulawayo factory last week he threw this pearl of analytical wisdom before us:

‘Prices are going up at an hourly rate. If this goes unchecked it will have a negative impact on our economy. At the rate at which things are going there will be no economy to talk of.’

That of course is good news. It would mean there is one less thing to moan about in Zimbabwe!

Some of my returning fans may have noticed a few changes. One has already moaned. She claims she has to turn off the favourite bar to see the Blog entirely. I have two suggestions that can help. Use Mozilla Firefox as the browser (it is a lot better than Internet Explorer), and purchase a widescreen. I hope otherwise that everyone else is pleased with the improvements and there will be more to come. If all goes well you will be able to download and print your own Zimbabwe money soon. This will make you instant millionaires!

Kidding aside, The Bearded Man (please see the link and buy his book, Without Honour, which is now out) is working on a really cool logo for me. I also hope to do some more funky chicken buttons on the links.

Catch ya laters, alligators:

Lore – Simply The Pest.

P.S. : 6 of 8 people found the following review helpful:
That’s what is on Amazon.co.uk regarding the review by Robert Mugabe to Katie Price and Peter Andre’s CD. Lol…lol. It is still up there!!!

ZIMBABWE INDEPENDENCE DAY

ZIMBABWE INDEPENDENCE DAY

Greetings Comrades,

As you all know, today is a very special day. I have been the big Boss of Zimbabwe for 27 years! It has not been easy I am telling you, so listen bloody hard or there will be trouble. Those whites stuck too the land like shit on a shovel, but I scraped it clean and now we have plenty land for everyone. No one knows what to do with it but that is not my bloody problem, but I place the blame firmly on that gay gangster Blair.

When Bob Marley sang for me on that first day we were free to begin starving ourselves, I wept. I have invited the Beatles to sing at this years celebrations and John Lennon has even rewritten a famous song of theirs especially for today.

So, Comrades, sing along with me…

Bob Mugabe’s Ruined Zimbabwe Land

Well it was 27 years ago today,

Bob Mugabe made Rhodesia go away,

Zanu (PF) been going in and out of style,

But there guaranteed to torture and smile,

So may I introduce to you,

The act you've known for all these years,

Bob Mugabe’s ruined Zimbabwe land!

Its Bob Mugabe’s ruined Zimbabwe land, we hope you will enjoy the show,

Its Bob Mugabe’s ruined Zimbabwe land, sit back and let everything go,

Its Bob Mugabe’s ruined, Bob Mugabe’s ruined,

Bob Mugabe’s ruined Zimbabwe land!

Its insane to be here,

The place makes you ill,

You're such a lovely protester we'd like to beat you very hard, we'd love to beat you hard!

I don't really wanna stop the show,

But I thought you might like to know,

That the starving gonna sing a song,

And they would like you all to sing along,

So may I introduce to you,

The one an only Bono and Geldorf show,

And Bob Mugabe’s ruined Zimbabwe land!

Here is a picture of me with my good friend with the unpronounceable name, congratulating me on hanging onto power for so long. I will be giving him a few tips, along with several tons of uranium we just found in the Zambezi valley.

Yours truly,

President Bob Mugabe.

-----

MEANWHILE: back in the real world…

There's little that will sparkle today as Zimbabweans reflect on almost
three decades of one-party rule.

The widespread, grinding poverty means that only one in five adults is
gainfully employed. One in four children has been orphaned as a result of
the economic crisis that has forced families apart as millions seek work
abroad. One in four adults has HIV/Aids. One in three pupils will have
dropped out of the school system by the end of next term, due to escalating
school fees. Only a very few can afford to keep their heads above water with
inflation at 1700%, and rising.

PRESIDENT Robert Mugabe has decided to revoke the licences of all aid groups in the run-up to next year's elections.

I Think My Heart Has Stopped!

I have spent hours and hours messing around with this Blog. I have achieved little. All I want is to get the borders smaller, so the middle bit is bigger. I played with something called HTML and some things called pixels (not to be mixed up with pixies, although I think I got plenty of the evil kind in my PC) and what happened?

I tell you what happened. My heart stopped beating for so long I thought I had died and gone to Zimbabwe and met the devil (whose name, oddly enough, is Bob). My Blog went mad and no matter what I did, it made the matter worse. At least I was bright enough to keep a copy of it before I messed about.

BUT, surprise surprise, I did manage to do some tinkering that worked. You will notice that all my links are now in alphabetical order. That took hours, as I had a hell of job downloading the alphabet from the Oxford Dictionary.com site. The idiots sent me over 120 thousand words! All I asked for was an A to Z. I tried that site, ASK.com but they kept asking me for what city and the name of the street…Bloody Fools.

Anyway, you will also see some neat little wavey flags. Aren’t they cute! If you accidentally click them on you will be guided to a police cell in Zimbabwe where you will be beaten black and blue. Not really, but it is the place where you can sort of relatively easily put pics up. I am still learning. At the bottom of the links you will see a button for Zimbabwe Situation. That’s the place where I get most of my material from for my satire takes. In fact, I have had a couple of my best piss-takes put up there as well. I got my knickers in such a knot trying to get my head around that coding. In the end the lady who co-runs the site did it for me. She has a really cool site which is linked under B…for Barbara.

I managed to put up some geek widgets to promote myself. I got all excited as I went from No 99 in the top 100 African websites to No 23 overnight. Sadly I needed only 13 hits to get that far! If you are bored, please play about with them and get me to No 1.

This afternoon, some worker wandered on too my balcony, without even saying hello and can I have a beer, and after putting up a ladder, broke every rule in the Health and Safety Book. I wish he had broken his sodding neck, the bastard, as he buggered off leaving a mess after drilling a huge hole in the wall. No idea what the hole is for. Maybe it is to stash his untaxed Cash Only Job wads of money.

UK readers have most probably heard of a pair of clowns called Peter Andre and Katie Price (aka Jordon). They have managed to make themselves rather wealthy here due to some mindless obsession people have with celebrity status. It would take too long to explain, but suffice to say they have made an album together. Not since the ‘70s when Peters and Lee released their debut album; Screeching Blonde Bint and The Howling Blind Drunk Bum, has a recording made such an impression on the paying public.

A Whole New World is up for sale at Amazon.co.uk. Believe it or not, there is a review of the CD by non other than the President Of Zimbabwe! (Scroll down to customer reviews. His is called Harmonies of Peace.)

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Whole-World-Katie-Price-Peter/dp/B000JU8FXK/ref=sr_1_1/202-1163500-8498214?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1176744929&sr=1-1

You better click this on fast before Amazon cottons on…hah hah hah

Unfortunately, some of the proposed tracks are missing in the review, so I have put all of them here.

Let’s Crack Some Skulls Together

Beat Da Big Bums Blue

Whites Don’t Live Here Anymore

Rise ‘o Voices of Rhodesia (still not sure about that one)

You Love Me, Yowl, Yowl, Yowl

Like A Candle Igniting Your Home

Starving Matchstick Men and Eating Matchstick Cats and Dogs

The Hills Are Alive, With Fleeing Refugees

Bang Bang, I Shot You All Down

You Not Seen Nothing Like The Mighty Bob

One Moment In Time Down A Mine

Bob, Make My Brown Eyes Black and Blue

Catch Ya laters, Alligators…

Lore: Simply the Pest.

Rhodesia Is Super

Back in the ‘good old days’, I was forced to save my frugal pocket money for Christmas and Birthday presents for my mother who resided in the UK. Trying to get something for nothing was impossible, so it was really taxing to find what you can buy for 30 cents (three weeks pocket money or 6 bottles of Coca –Cola).
Amazingly, some of the stuff I sent my mother kept. The other day she posted me one of these presents back. It was a set of 6 copper coasters. Two are missing but I just had to photograph one of them and let you see it.

Meanwhile- thanks to Carol, the visits to my Blog are really taking off. This lady took the effort to read the lot in one sitting and then promote it on www.gumtree.com
Many thanks.

Also, I notice that the comments are starting to pick up. Me want lots and lots. With reference to the last two comments – I didn’t spot the unique spelling on the other sign for Rock Duimmies. Duimmies? Who is the dummy here? Just in case I checked it out:

There are no dictionary entries for rock duimmies, but rock is spelled correctly.

No results for: rock duimmies

Did you mean rock dummies?

I dunno. I didn’t write the sign! I most certainly won’t be tempted to eat it either, whatever it is.

As for sunsets, that was taken about 6 weeks ago. So here are a couple taken yesterday. Along with the sunset,I saw something really cool. We get the occasional Harbour Porpoise swimming past but just as the sun set there was an entire school of maybe 30 of them frolicking about for at least 45 minutes. Too far for the pocket camera, but I watched for a while through binoculars. As a matter of interest, the cave next door to mine is rented out as self-catering holiday holes. Email me if you interested.

MORE NEWS OF VITAL INTEREST

No, I have not finished the book. However I am working really hard at it. BUT, halleluiah, my computer is fixed! A very nice man in South Carolina finally solved the problem. It turned out I had to untick the box ‘High Resolution’ and everything would be fine. Sadly, he was a little too late as I had already called in an expert from Rhodesia. He, not having a bloody clue what I had for a problem, soon noticed what he had for a problem and swiftly converted my P.C. into a standard Rhodie model with smooth flow technology and throw up out the window home edition soft in the head ware.

Catch ya later.
Best regards, Lore

Easter in Zimbabwe and North Wales

I had rather a nice Easter. The weather for three of the days was next to perfect and I had my first braai of the year. (That’s a B.B.Q for the non African readers.) The global warming is really making an impact. The seagulls were rabbitting away on the roofs here like it was going out of fashion. Why the hell they do it on a slippery, sloped slate roof is beyond me. It looks really exhausting, them having to flap their wings all the time to stop from plummeting to the ground.

I took my camera and had a bit of a wander around. The place was packed with holiday makers from the midlands. All the fish and chip shops were frying like mad and one of them had renamed his place in honour of the seagulls love making.

Sadly, the water front promotes only fast food served in polystyrene. That’s why we have the fattest seagulls in Wales, as the drunks love to toss the rests on the street or beach. The council spends a fortune cleaning the place up. As you can see from the photo, some of the places do not serve booze. I think the manager was pissed when he wrote the sign.

So, before I pass my Blog over to the President of Zimbabwe, who will tell you about his Easter, here is a picture of me with a baby lamb I caught whilst climbing around the mountains whilst looking for something to eat. The other picture is of a typical view I have every evening from my cave entrance. Rather boring, really!

Excerpt from Rob Mugabe’s Blog

Dear beloved Blog,

What an Easter that was. Firstly, Grace, my beloved and most beautiful wife, informed me we had run out of hot cross buns! I am a very patient man but this was too much. I am tired of those thieving parasites down at the bakeries. I sent my boys down to whip up some buns real quick. The bloody fools came back and told me they beat those baking bastards till they cried very hard but they claim they stole all the flour.

My precious Grace nearly had a baby at the news (not mine, I must keep an eye on that Nicholas von Hogshit), so I had to phone that pathetic dwarf Mbeki and I tell him to fly some over for me chop chop. When I met that new Pope last year in Rome, he told me that my Green Bombers remind him so much of his good old days in the Hitler Youth. So I told Mbeki to make sure he get my buns shaped with hooked crosses on them.

I was eating them with my darling on Sunday afternoon and I was watching that great film from that Australian Jew hater Mel Gibson. That’s the one where Roman war veterans beat the shit out of some troublesome Jew who was promoting democracy and acting like he run the show. I was just thinking that my boys must all get to watch this, as those Romans really know how to make people cry. Then the bloody phone rings!

I went bloody crazy! For Christ’s sake, can I not watch even a film in peace at Easter for God’s sake? What I heard made me very angry. Some bloody cheeky pastor called Alison Sibanda, down at the Apostolic Mission Church, had during the traditional Prayer For The Nation, called on worshippers to pray for a morally upright leader, saying: "Good leaders are ordained by God. But the present one is not from God."

Thank the great Lord that some of my boys were there at the time and dutifully reported this to me. I sent plenty of my boys straight around there to give the congregation some of the Passion of the Christ. Then I got my boys to arrest the pastor for inciting violence…hah hah hah. I told them to keep the collection box for their pains. My boys’ pains, not the church goers…hah hah hah.

I have to go now, beloved Blog, that wife of mine has been looking at some holiday castles to rent for a weekend. I don’t mind going back to see my good old china in North Korea. His cook makes the best meat balls I have ever had – they really are the dog’s bollocks!

Love me lots,

Emperor Bob: Liberator of Africa from the white gay maggots.

(The full story can be found at Zimbabwesituation link)

The Leopard Never Changes Its Spots

Whilst doing research for my memoirs, I come across all sorts of information. With all the violence that President Mugabe is instigating against the people of Zimbabwe in opposition to his tyrannical rule, I decided to put up a few memories of what the ‘Great Liberator and darling of the liberal West’ did back in the ‘good’ old days.

The pictures are from a Rhodesian Government booklet from 1978. It is called – Anatomy of Terror. I have supplied a link. It is not for the faint hearted.

Massacre at Elim Mission - June 23^rd 1978

So says Mr. Andrew Young, United States Ambassador to the United Nations, in a recent interview with the London Times.

This weekend, in the worst atrocity committed against white civilians in the history of Rhodesia's six-year war, terrorists of Robert Mugabe's Zimbabwe National Liberation Army hacked and battered to death almost the entire white staff and their families at the Elim Pentacostal Mission in the Eastern border mountains.

Mr. Young is asked: "Does Mr. Mugabe strike you as a violent man?"

He replies: "Not at all, he's a very gentle man. In fact, one of the ironies of the whole struggle is that I can't imagine Joshua Nkomo, or Robert Mugabe, ever pulling the trigger on a gun to kill anyone. I doubt that they ever have.... The violent people are Smith's people and hopefully they won't be around for the new Zimbabwe."

This weekend, when local and international journalists arrived at the scene of the massacre 15 km from Umtali and less than 7 km from the Mozambique border, the mutilated and blood-stained bodies of three men, four women and five children - including a three-week-old baby - were lying as they had been found that morning.

Mr. Young is asked how he gets on with Mr. Mugabe.

He replies: "I find that I am fascinated by his intelligence, by his dedication. The only thing that frustrates me about Robert Mugabe is that he is so damned incorruptible.... The problem is he was educated by the Jesuits, and when you get the combination of a Jesuit and a Marxist kind of philosophy merging in one person, you've got a hell of a guy to deal with."

----

About Andrew Young.

In 1977, President Jimmy Carter appointed Young the Ambassador to the UN. His controversial statements made headlines almost from the start. His greatest contribution was helping bring peace and a new constitution to Zimbabwe, and he also helped improve US relations with Nigeria. He was criticized for many of his statements, such as his suggestion that Cuban troops brought stability to Angola. However, President Carter continued to support his ambassador until 1979, when, contrary to US policy and statute, he met with a representative of the Palestinian Liberation Organization. When the occurrence of that meeting was revealed, Young's public statements were perceived as evasive by Administration critics. Ultimately, Young was forced to resign.

------

From Time Magazine July 10 1978

At the beginning of the war, the killings of white missionaries had seemed, in most cases, to be merely part of the prevailing violence. The latest rash of murders suggests that the guerrillas are now killing missionaries in an effort to create panic among Rhodesia's remaining whites, particularly in rural areas. Since whites are now leaving the country at the rate of 1,000 a month, that brutal plan may be having some success.

-----

BBC 1^st June 1979: End of White rule in Rhodesia

Mr Smith warned that "pushing people forward simply because of their colour, irrespective of merit, would be most unfortunate and would of course lead to disaster".

He continued: "It would mean that Rhodesia would then develop into a kind of banana republic where the country would in no time be bankrupt."

I Feel My Pain

I am suffering from post root canal surgery. It is not nice. To make matters worse, the large hole in my molar has only been temporarily filled in and I have to wait another two weeks before the final completion. However, should the pain become unbearable during this time, I intend to take three aspirins, a bottle of scotch and pull the bastard out with a pair of pliers.

As we all now know, Mad Captain Bob has been allowed to steer the good ship Zimbabwe deeper into the dark waters, bouncing off icebergs on the way. No doubt he will be re-elected in 2008 despite the huge combined efforts of Western imperialistic nations to displace him and put Ian Smith back at the helm. I get rather tired reading some of the garbage being written about whose fault it is that Zimbabwe is in such a state. I mean, exactly who are they kidding when they believe that all the ex Rhodesians want to come rushing back and take over the place again?

I managed to rig up a very interesting little tool called Google Analytics which gives me an incredible detailed stat report about this blog. Sadly it can’t fix it! Anyway, some of the information garnered is that the story, Learning Afrikaans is the most popular hit. That particular anecdote will be rewritten eventually but at the moment I am busy redoing the Gokwe bit. Hopefully I will have the whole lot finished for this Xmas, so start saving now. I could also see how many new people have visited as against returning fans the last month. I was well surprised to see that almost 70% are new people.

The Google map they supply is so sophisticated I can even see which town visitors are coming from! Some of them are real puzzling, like the hits from Ghana.
Could the person who lives in Dubai see if they can trace a certain Mike Yoko. I believe he is head of a hotel security unit. I have to slowly start tracing certain people to get permission to use their real names. Mike was my shift boss when I was stationed in Gwelo.
Another name is ex Staff Inspector Mike Lambourne. He was my squad instructor back in ’76 at Morris Depot. That reminds me; anyone got any pictures of Morris Depot?

Finally, someone pointed out to me that I had forgotten to put my Email address in my profile section, so I finally got around to doing that. Eventually I will try to redo the links. I see that the title still appears to be a bit cropped when using IE. I still haven’t figured out what the hell is wrong with my PC so the Blog is still completely white background. Very frustrating.

Catch ya laters.

Trains of War.

I recently read a comment in a Rhodesia forum about the Yanks finally deciding that one way to counter the problem with road side bombs, was to supply their Hummer transport vehicles with V shaped armour plating. This is about 30 odd years after we had it installed in most of our troop carriers.

The local Rhodesian armour manufacturers were extremely good at adapting vehicles to counter the various weapons used by the Gooks. (Terrs, Communist Insurgents, Freedom Fighters, or whatever, etc etc.) Most of them were named after animals. The Kudu was an adapted Land Rover and the Leopard was constructed, as far as I am led to believe, on the chassis of a VW Beatle. These just being a couple of examples.

I received this photograph in my mail box yesterday and could hardly believe my eyes, as this particular adaptation I had never seen. That is not actually very surprising as there were no railways running through Gokwe. The body of this amazing contraption seems to be taken from a Kudu. Notice the back door, which is open, has the recognizable zig-zag plating to ricochet the AK 47 rounds. The sides have an extra skin of light metal designed to set off a RPG rocket so that it couldn’t penetrate the second, half inch thick plating, behind it. The ‘roof’ is just a tarpaulin to offer some protection from the sun and rain. This has been stretched over tubular roll bars.

The person who has been forwarding this picture around wrote the following:

I recently bought a small lot of photographs, mainly of Rhodesia Railways locomotives. This picture was amongst them. Do you know where and when this might have been used during the Bush War? One suggestion was that it was used on the Plumtree line.

If anyone can supply any information, please contact Ian at

iain@umgusa.fsnet.co.uk

and CC me please so I can place the details here.

Many thanks. Catch ya all soon,

Lore.

It’s All Going Tits Up in Zimbabwe.

Whilst Mad Bob shuffles like a geriatric in a Seville Row suit in Tanzania, Lore’s secret agents have managed to obtain photographs of a recent demonstration outside a factory.

The protesters are demanding a wage increase and have resorted to using the only weapons at their disposal.

Even with all the hardships, they can still have a laugh.

With inflation about to top 2000%, what little money these people earn, makes life a real bummer.

Onions, Elephants and Crocodiles.

Poor old elephants in Zimbabwe are really getting it in the neck. I see one just jumped all over some woman and her daughter in Hwange national park the other day. Turns out they were doing walkies. Not a good idea, especially since it turns out that the Safari firms have been kidnapping baby elephants to train as people carriers. Elephants don’t like that. Still, the Zimbabwe reporting is interesting…

Harare - A British woman and her 10-year-old daughter were killed by a rogue elephant while her husband escaped unhurt during a hunting tour in southwestern Zimbabwe, state media reported on Tuesday.

The state-controlled Herald quoted an unnamed parks and wildlife authority official as saying Veronica Poker, 47, and her daughter Shallot died on the spot when they were attacked by a lone elephant which is believed to have been wounded, during a guided tour in the Hwange game park on Saturday.

It happened on Saturday mid-morning "when the three tourists who were accompanied by a tour guide were watching a lone elephant while they were hiding behind an anthill," the newspaper quoted the official as saying.

"It is reported that the elephant could have seen the people and started charging towards them."

He said wardens were deployed following the tragedy to track the elephant believed to be wounded.

"Wounded elephants are those that are normally aggressive," the official told the newspaper.

The official said the guide fired a shot to scare away the elephant but it kept on charging towards the touring party and trampled the guide who suffered a fractured pelvis before turning on the tourists.

National police spokesperson Wayne Bvudzijena referred questions to the police commander for the Matabeleland north province who could not be reached for comment. (That’s because he is busy organising more beatings for cheeky members of the opposition party)

Sounds like they got themselves in a right pickle!

Maybe the poor girl’s name was really Charlotte?

Meanwhile, over at Lake Kariba, the ellies are getting shot to feed the crocs. Turns out the government wants to expand/increase the croc farms. Now back in the good old days, when I visited the croc farm, the baby crocs were fed kapenta (fresh water sardines) and the big mothers were fed smelly hitchhikers from Denmark. Only kidding. Actually they were given mostly chickens. Now of course, the kapenta industry is in ruins and the chickens have flown the coop. BUT there are plenty of elephants wandering around still, so let’s feed them to the crocs.

Hang in there Bob, I am writing as fast as I can!

With Zimbabwe boiling away at the moment, I really have to pull my finger out of my poop hole (as many of my teachers said to me) and get this book finished. Otherwise I might just miss the gravy train.
A pal of mine, Robb Ellis, has finished his and getting some great feedback. Robb has a huge Blog which was recently mentioned by the BBC.

http://thebeardedman.blogspot.com/index.html

His book Without Honour also received a great review from a Swedish newspaper, which makes fascinating reading because the Swedes were big supporters of Mugabe during the war for independence. It is a long article with loads of interesting photographs.

http://www.folketsnyheter.se/?sida=artikel&aID=453

Robb became a policeman after Independence. It sure is a very different police force from the one I was in!

Talking about policemen – this little excerpt I found in The Times online edition today.

The officer said he had joined the force more than 20 years ago. “That was a time when a policeman was really a policeman,” he said. “When you woke up in the morning and it was time to get into your uniform you would feel proud. You would cycle to work feeling happiness. Today it’s totally different. It’s like you are in a prison.”
The officer said that men were leaving the police, the army and the air force because conditions were so bad. He had lost as many as a third of his own men. The pay — 150,000 Zimbabwean dollars (less than £5) a month for a constable — was derisory and barely covered the cost of travelling to work. Some routinely extorted bribes to make ends meet. “They are forced by the situation to do what they are doing,” he said.

www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/africa/article1555824.ece

Racking my memory really hard, I think a Black Constable in my days would have started on about R$110 a month, or about half of what I started on.The senior sergeant you see in the photo, (I took it with a Kodak Instamatic) holding the receiver of a TR28 radio, would have been on about the same income as myself, albeit after at least 15 years of service. We had quite an adventure together in Gokwe, early 1977. (All in my book.) I was 18 and a half, he must have been in his early 40s. He had children he sent to good schools, lived with his wife in a small house inside the police married quarters and owned an immaculately kept family sized car. This same gentleman is now most probably living as another destitute, his pension decimated, his beloved police force turned into state sanctioned thuggery.

Money For Nothing, Get A Kicking For Free.

Fame at last! Well, not quite. The BBC News Online recently did an article about Zimbabwe Blogs. Sadly they left me out. I wonder why? There are a few interesting links listed. Well worth checking out.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/6456027.stm

Whilst the BBC might not be interested in me, it appears Captain Bob is. I am normally very suspicious when it comes to receiving dodgy Emails but this one did seem genuine…


From: Honourable Robert Gabriel Mugabe,
President of Zimbabwe,
President House,
Harare, ZIMBABWE
TEL:00263-78-01-66-40

Email: RobbingBob@easypeesy.com

Dear friend,

I am the President of Zimbabwe and have been for a very long time but that seems to be running out, so I crave your indulgence as I contact you in
such a surprising manner, but I respectfully insist you read this letter
carefully as I am optimistic it will open door for unimaginable financial
rewards for both of us.

In my overseas bank accounts, which I cannot visit personally due to illegal sanctions by the fascist, racist, imperialistic regimes of the war mongering uncivilised nations of Britain and United States, I have accumulated the sum of $10.5 billion US dollars ( ten billion and five thousand million US dollars). These same nations are subverting the course of justice in my country and I am dismayed that I may be forced to abandon my effort to keep Zimbabwe free of foreign tyranny as I am no longer a young man and wish to retire in peace.

Your name was given to me by one of my trusted cabinet members who has sadly passed away recently when he fell down a mine shaft. He had said that you could be trusted in this matter. I am of course willing to reward you very well for your assistance in this matter.

This business is occasioned by the fact that the customer account uses only a security number for access to the account. Due to the above reasons it is not possible to transfer the money to myself or any of my trusted comrades and I have need of an unknown third party. If you were to gain access to this fund and agree to bring this too me in a country to be designated in the near future, I agree that 30% of
this money will be for you as a partner, in respect to the provision
of a releasing the said money, 10% will be set aside for expenses incurred during the
business and 60% would be for me.

You must apply first to the bank indicating your bank name, your bank account number, your private telephone and fax number for easy and effective communication and location wherein the money will be remitted, upon receipt of your reply with a copy of the above details, I will send the access numbers to you by fax or email.

I will not fail to bring to your notice that this transaction is hitch free and that you should not entertain any atom of fear as all required arrangement have been made for
the transfer, you should contact me as soon as you receive this letter.

I like to point out that all recent press coverage is wanton lying and it was necessary to protect my assets from unscrupulous thieves with some soft usage of minimum force. I offer you this same protection to ease of mind this transaction.

Trusting to hear from you soon,

Robert Mugabe,

President of Zimbabwe

Mad Man Bob Out of Control.

A bit ironic that a day after I wrote the satire piece Comic Relieve, Mugabe’s boys did go on a beating spree. I have been following this rather closely and it is not funny.
The incident has prompted loud outrage, except from South Africa and the rest of the A.U., who just mumbled some wishy-washy hogwash.

When I read the articles in the various newspapers these last few days, some of the readers comments were very interesting. Quite a few loved to rub some salt in the still festering wound that was the last colonial battlefield in Africa. For all its faults, Rhodesia was Super and was progressing at its own mature rate towards an inevitable majority rule and no one was starving in the process.

I wonder if I will live to see a prosperous and stable Zimbabwe in my life time. Till then, I think I will stick to the plan of having Last Of The Rhodesians inscribed across my ashes urn.

Hallo and Welcome to the Red Nose Mugabe Show

Yes, Comic Relieve (you of money) week is back, my favourite time of the year; when just for a laugh, all you idiots send me money, so I can keep you entertained all year and next year and next year and every year - for ever!

Here are some of my new jokes for this year. Remember to laugh very loud and clap or my boys will give you a severe clap and I will be laughing very loud.

In Zimbabwe, we have reduced our carbon emissions by 95% in six years. That’s because only me and my boys are having a gas…hah hah – get it, gas = petrol..lol

Last week, Clever Ncube, became the first person to win our own televised Who Wants to be a Millionaire? He got mugged on the way out of the studios and the perpetrators stole the suitcase with the winnings - after emptying it…hah hah hah

Michael Jackson phoned me yesterday. He wanted to buy a farm. I told him we don’t sell farms to white people…hah hah hah. (laugh louder, or my boys come with the truncheons)

Last week I went to Ghana’s 50^th Anniversary celebrations. My wife donated $2000 US dollars. To get that money my boys beat 30,000 people centless…hah hah hah..get it…senseless..lol.

If you shout obscenities at the Jewish Zionist state loud enough, they give you great discount on water cannons. Mazeltov…hah hah.

All of our mines are at full capacity – filled to the brim with dead protesters…hah hah hah. (I want to hear more clapping or you better run to England quick, before my boys catch you.)

15 people on their way too my birthday celebrations in a donkey drawn cart never made it. At a road block, the police ate the donkey….hah hah hah..ahh, that one is just too funny.

I have just ordered another 200 cupboards for my bedroom. I’m planning on putting some more skeletons in them this year. (laugh louder or you become one of them)

When our teachers went on strike, by the time they settled, the rise was worth only half of what they demanded…and they call themselves teachers? Hah hah hah.

Climate change in Zimbabwe is a big joke – if it rains, we have no food. If it doesn’t rain, we have no food…so bring a packed lunch.

A man came up to me the other day. He says ’Uncle Bob, can you tell me why the banknotes are useless as toilet paper?’ I said to him ‘but it’s better than the toilet paper Smith gave us when we were in his prisons.’ He say, ‘but at least we had toilet paper, now they have none in the cells.’ I told him ‘they don’t need paper now. My boys beat the shit out of them before they get thrown in the cells.’ Hah hah hah (Just like they come and beat you and set your house on fire if don’t start clapping louder you white maggots.)

Tony Blair phone me yesterday. He said ‘ Honourable President Robert Gabriel Mugabe, liberaliser of Africa, passionate defender of human rights, blah blah blah,’ I tell him ‘Hey Tony, what you bloody want, you gay gangster, I am a busy man, I have a nation to ruin.’ This Bliar then has the cheek to ask me for a job! I tell him we got enough Blairs in the country and they all full of shit.’ Hah hah hah…get it, huh, HUH? Blair = name of portable toilet here in Zimbabwe…hah hah hah. That one is my favourite one at the moment.

How am I doing so far? I hope you are all phoning in and raising plenty of money for me. Hah hah, my wife said to me today, ‘Bob, I am really worried about all this money coming in.’ I was shocked, I said ‘why my precious?’ She says to me, ‘I am running out of things to buy!’ Aah, I laughed at that one myself a lot. She is a very funny girl you know. That white maggot Nick von Hogstreet or something like that, is sniffing around her a lot and mumbling at the ten million pounds he lent me needing paying back. I don’t trust that mad man. I think my boys must have a chat with him…hah hah hah.

To solve the problem of all those female students stealing the red bulbs from the traffic lights to put in their rooms to attract some extra money for tuition fees and food – the council has approved to replace them with green ones…hah hah hah…they are so stupid, they don’t know my chauffer is colour blind…hah hah hah

So comrades, dig deep in your pockets and support this worthy cause. I highly recommend this link:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml;jsessionid=UQ2RJV3CULVGBQFIQMGCFFWAVCBQUIV0?xml=/opinion/2007/03/11/do1101.xml