Satiricus was appalled at the ugly catfight going on between the WAPA and KFC partners in the Coalition. And while like most catfights – what with all the hair pulling, scratching, biting and such like – it was good theatre for those in need of political titillation, it was very infra dig for fellas who were supposed to be running the country. Satiricus didn’t like it one bit since it involved his two favourite politicians – Rum Jhaat and Nagga Man.
“But what bothers me most,” complained Satiricus to his friend Cappo as they downed a few at the Back Street Bar, “is this so-called supporter of the KFC writes a letter to the press saying it’s not a case of “power drunkenness” by the KFC leaders.”
“Wha’ wraangwid da?” asked Cappo as his eyebrows arched. “Dat is de man feeling.”
“Well, even though the fella made some good points, why did he have to bring up “drunkenness” when he’s talking about Rum Jhaat and Nagga Man?” replied Satiricus morosely.
“De man talking about “power”, Sato… NOT bush rum!” smiled Cappo. “I don’t know about that,” replied Satiricus. “I think it’s a Freudian slip.”
“Me na care if a third slip or square leg,” said Cappo as he took a swig, “Me think dat Hynes chap mek wan good pint. KFC get buy-out by Pee-an-See!”
“But what about what the letter writer said?” sniffed Satiricus, “WAPA get bigger buy-out, but Hynes don’t talk about that!”
“Well, let abee ‘gree wid dat,” said Cappo placatingly. “Wha’ me think is de two a dem a behave like when wan man gat two wife. An’ dem a fight fuh get ‘e attention! Cat fight!” “C’mon, Cappo!” exclaimed Satiricus. “These are big men in the society. They have principles, you know. And they have to stand up for their principles.”
“Principles?!” scoffed Cappo. “Budday…all a dem jine up Pee-an-See fuh throw out PPCEE an’ get big jaab and big money and big cyaar.”
“Well…that comes with the job, you know,” said Satiricus sheepishly. “Really?” said Cappo with his eyebrows touching his hairline. “Why me think dem give de self de big money and big cyaar?”
“OK…OK..But what about this “power drunkenness”? asked Satiricus in desperation.
“Well, Sato, me friend. Wha’ you seh when wan big PRIME Moocher threaten wan lil’ reporter because he write wha he t’ink?”
