Give Us De Charisma, We Gonna Finish De Job!
The Collected Bulletins Of President Idi Amin by Alan Coren (Punch August 1, 1973)

NO-ONE TURNIN' up yet.

Bin sittin' here by de windah since breakfuss, no-one comin' up de path.

Wot Gaddafi got dat I ain't? dis de question I askin' Everybody know I admirin' Gaddafi, he runnin' a damn good country, especially fo' a bloke wot noticeably short on marbles, not to say roun' de twiss; Gaddafi say "March to Cairo!" an' all de famous Libyan layabouts put down de goats an' start leggin' it across de dunes. (fit to Mersa Matruh, an' Sadat bungin' de 8.40 buffet car across de road, all de Libyans walkin' about sayin' "Wot we gonna do now?", nobody sayin' "Wot dis bugger Gaddafi gittin' us into here?" or pointin' out where it are a hunnerd an' ten in de shade, everybody jus' standin' on de spot, waitin' for de Benghazi runner. Man finally turn up wid de note sayin' where Gaddafi reckon it time fo' everyone to march back, an' wot happenin'? Everyone marchin' back. Git back home, find out Gaddafi handed in de resignation, no-one shoutin' "Damn good job, what say we go roun' de presidential tent an' step on his face, makin' us walk fifteen hunnerd miles in de burnin' sand?"

Everybody start wailin' an' pullin' out de hair instead. It turnin' out dey want Gaddafi back, an' nex' thing you know, he back, new uniform, all de pips winkin' in de sun, gone up a step in rank, got hisself a haircut an' manicure, back where he was only more so. Damn sight better . . .

Thought I saw someone comin' in de gate, but it only a dog havin' a wee on de magnolia. Where everyone gone?

Anyway, like I say, damn sight better than a gen'l election, savin' a lotta money, lotta fiddlin' about wid alternative candidates, all dis crap, all you do is hand in de cards in de mornin', hang about a bit while de wailin' an' beggin' goin' on, then you comes back aroun' two pee em, expressin' de gratitude fo' de vote of confidence, an' you back in business wid de much-loved increased majority. It beatin' me . . .

Who dat?

Hum. It a man wid a bill fo' coke.

Where was I, oh, yeah, it beatin' me how Gaddafi pullin' it off. He ten years younger than me, don't even come up to de shoulder, ain't got a natcherl tooth in his head, not to mention bein' a Wog fo' starters, nex' worse thing to a Asian, an' here he are swingin' de multitudes on account o' de personal maggotism. It jus' showin' I done de right . . .

Dis definitely somebody. Definitely somebody wid a bit o' eminence. Got a bowler hat, an' carryin' a bit o' paper. De man a reader. Mus' be de petition, an' about time, too, it .... man say he authorised to take de side-board away. Got it in writin'. Had to let off a couple wid de ole Webberley. Serve him right, it bein' de President's hour o' need an' everythin'.

Anyway, gittin' back to de subjeck, it jus' showin' I done de right thing, teamin' up wid Gaddafi, me an' him de big buddies, got Africa sewn up, no question. Dat why I bin goin' about dis mornin' tellin' everyone I resigning. Gonna show de word everyone behind me. Pretty soon, everyone gonna come beatin' de door down an' tearin' de hair an' beggin' an' all that stuff. Got de gratitude speech all writ in de block caps fo' easy readin', specially wid de eyes full o' tears etcetera for de fillum cameras.

Hope dey bringin' de flash bulbs.

On account of it gittin' dark now.

Where everyone gone?

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