BEEN MAINTAININ' a low profile dis past month, world, on account of a lotta bricks an' stuff gittin' bunged through de windahs o' Amin Towers, an' most o' de residents been goin' aroun' on all fours to avoid gittin' de ole skull sheared off at de conk. Dat de main reason I ain't been sendin' de shimmerin' prose off to de famous Punch magazine, can't git down de Post Office fo' flyin' beer-bottles, not to mention de dead pig sittin' in de presidential Jeep. Been sellotaped to de steerin' wheel by de Uganda WVS, an' if you asks me, they gotta lot to learn about de proper channels o' political protest: if they want to put a curse on someone's bowel movements, de proper place is in a letter to de Times.
Anyway, what upsettin' de popperlace is de stories what fillip de newspapers about Corporal Gowon an' his ole woman gittin' de red carpet treatment in London, whippin' aroun' in de Royce-Rollses, all de white buggers cheerin' an' chuckin' de bowlers in de air, ole Gowon stuffin' his face wid cucumber sandwiches while Queen Elizabeth stirrin' his tea and de King o' Edinburgh showin' Mrs Gowon de aspidistra beds and tellin' her de one about de one-legged Chinese jockey, also de management o' de renowned Harrods turnin' on de full treatment an' de Gowon family loadin' up de back o' de truck wid gole toothpicks etcetera. All dis rubbish gittin' on de Ugandan wick, an' causin' untole hardship, especially to anyone wot got four wives crawlin' about like crabs, shriekin' every time a car backfirin' an' consequently worn out by de time they gotta hit de sack.
Everybody wantin' to know why I ain't gittin' de ole RSVP statin' how de House o' Windsor awaitin' de honour o' de Amin fambly's presence at a jam tea, also fly-pasts, four stalls for Pyjama Tops, inspeckertin' de Household Cavalry, an' doan forget de boater on account of Henley. Gittin' sick o' sittin' by de letter-box, ain't nothin' comin' through it except de final demand from Barclaycard 'n' copies o' de Reader's Digest Book O' De Road plus free feeler-gauge, never asked fo' any of 'em, besides which de free feeler-gauge don't work, all it git you is a smack in de eye. Wot I want to know is, wot Gowon got dat I ain't? Skinny little rat, ain't enough of him to put in a egg-cup; Queen feel like doin' a foxtrot wid me at a Ceremonial Ball, she gonna know who doin' de leading also a Ph.D. an' memmer o' de Uganda Advanced Motorists Association, also keepin' four wives goin' an' no complaints. Ole runt Gowon ain't got but one, an' she a head taller, every time she turn de light out, he start worryin' about who gonna run de country after he gone.
Thing is, and it wot de popperlace not understanding is a man need a bit o' oil these days, if he want to get on. Ain't no use jus' havin' de ole social graces, knowin' which fork to pick de nose wid, all dat kinda thing; it a sad refleckertion on de state o' de work dat de only reason Gowon gittin' de free trips an' de signed snapshots o' de corgis is on account of he sittin' on de well-known black gold.
An' wot I sittin' on just ain't gold enough fo' some people.
|«NEXT»||«Collected Bulletins»||«Humour»||«Library »|