Satiricus was brooding. The last time he had barely dodged the bullet at the Back Street Bar about Prezzie’s speech in America, where the man swore on his heart (and hope to die!) that he was always a real die-hard Burnt Hamite.
Satiricus didn’t care much for Prezzie’s beliefs…but feared he’d have to explain why his leaders, Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat, still hadn’t spoken out.
“Sato, leh me aks yuh somet’ing,” began Bungi, before Satiricus could even start on his beer. “Burnt Ham people na bin gi’e Nagga Man wan good trashin’ wan time?”
“That’s right!” said Satiricus brightly. “Nagga Man’s been fighting the Pee an’ See over fifty years, you know!”
“An’ ‘e nevah get wuk unda Burnt Ham, right?” asked Cappo, as he polished off his beer.
“That’s right!” repeated Satiricus. “He had to carry Jamet’s purse for a long time, to feed his family!”
“But if Burnt Ham victimised him so much?” added Hari. “Now that Prezzie admitted he’s always been a Burnt Hamite, isn’t he worried?”
“Especially when ‘e seh ‘e guh do wha’ Burnt Ham do in 1964!” grinned Bungi.
“Why should Nagga Man be worried?” asked Satiricus.
“Fish ah play ah sea, but ‘e nah know watah ah boil fuh am!” exclaimed Cappo. “Yuh fuget afta Burnt Ham get pawah ‘e dump ‘e pardna like when yuh done suck aringe dry?”
“But Pressie and the Pee an’ See need our KFC votes!” protested Satiricus, while he put down his beer.
“Sato, me fr’en, nah tek yuh mattie eye fuh see,” said Bungi shaking his head sadly. “Ah wha’ yuh t’ink Prezzie put Patto fuh count de vote?”
“I know I’m not the brightest bulb in the room fellas,” said Satiricus. “But you think Nagga Man stupid?”
“Nah! ‘e na schupit, ‘e greedy!” said Cappo sadly. “But ‘e sh’uld rememba: wa sweet ah goat mouth ah sour ah eh backside!”
“Let’s drink to that!” said Hari.
