Satiricus was glum. And it wasn’t just the post-holiday blues. He had wended his way to the Back Street Bar with some trepidation, since of late his leaders Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat had seemed to be missing in action – just when the politics had heated up. He knew the fellas were going to rag him something fierce – and they didn’t disappoint him.
“Suh tell me wha yuh leadah Nagga an’ Rum Jhaat seh ‘bout how dem throw out Cheddu pay-pah, na?” said Bungi snidely, even as he was snapping off the cap on his beer bottle.
“Yes, Sato,” chimed in Hari, without missing a beat with his bottle. “They haven’t said a thing. Are they still stale-booz from their Christmas and New Year boozing?”
“OK fellas,” said Satiricus resignedly, as he tried to head them off. “You know they couldn’t drink like the old days because of the 2 am curfew.”
“Cur – few?” grinned Bungi. “Dem man does guh in de back room and ‘cur – plenty’ till marnin’ come!!!”
“But seriously Sato, don’t tell me Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat are in Guyana,” said Hari, whose face belied his claim to seriousness. “They have to be abroad or something.”
“Naah, they’re in Guyana,” admitted Satiricus glumly.
“But ah how dem fellas suh quiet?” demanded Bungi. “Dem get lack-jaw?”
“Even if they have lock jaw from all that Bush Rum they drank during the extra holidays,” continued Hari doggedly, “they can write to the newspapers to defend their leader, can’t they?”
“Dats right!! Nah dem bin seh how dem a de bigges’ JagaMight?” Bungi butted in.
“Look fellas. I know where you coming from,” admitted Satiricus. “You think Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat should speak out like Rolphie.”
“Damn right!!” exclaimed Hari. “And they both lawyers too!”
“But you have to understand, Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat are not like Rolphie,” Satiricus explained. “They are inside working to change the Pee an’ See.”
“Really?” asked Bungi. “But look who change who!!”
