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It came out of nowhere.
Completely out of the blue.
I was absolutely stunned and speechless for a few weeks now.
It was so unexpected that my words nearly dried up for good,
but I’m back and ready to look the world in the eye again.
I do, however, have something to say, but this will be the
last of it.
Those
back-stabbing, motherless, dress wearing, deceiving, altar boy pinching,
sniffling, lying, two-faced, forked tongued snakes!!!
Picking
that Argentinian above me…. What a bunch of sad oinks!!!!
I’m not bitter at all. I’m just voicing an opinion…
Anyway. So the Pope position was eventually filled by some
unknown from Argentina. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is some Nazi fugitive’s
son formerly know as Helga. But enough about my former potential employment. I
will not act like a potential disgruntled employee that was fired before he was
potentially appointed. I’m moving on.
See. The thing is. I realized that there are better and more
important things in life than being Pope.
I read somewhere that there will be an election in South Africa next
year and I’m starting a new campaign on this 3rd day of April in the
year of our Lord 2013. The position of President of the Republic of South
Africa is up for grabs!!
I know my mate Jacob (with a “J”, not a “K” otherwise it
would have been Kacob), who likes me to call him Zumfie, is looking at sneaking
in one more time, but he actually put me on to applying for this esteemed
position.
Not in so many words as you can imagine, as I’ve been told
that he is currently already looking at some real estate below Table Mountain.
No. Literally below Table Mountain in that area where the nuclear warheads, PW
and his cronies manufactured, were hidden from the Russians and Americans.
Remember those days hey? PW was too ashamed to admit that we had those
capabilities as South Africa was only able to destroy planet earth three times
over, which paled in comparison to the 9 times and 12 times of the Russians and
Americans respectively.
Apparently Zumfie is looking at some more spending money
from his private piggy bank aptly named SARS, in order to build another fortress
for him and his extended family in the hollowed-out Table Mountain, so he and
his family can be safe when the Iranians and Israelites start World War III.
I’m not telling Zumfie of my plans yet, as he might need
more than cold a shower to recover from the shock. I’ll keep it as a surprise
for him as long as I can.
Initially I thought of an early onslaught on his position by
maybe arranging a hostile take-over now that every single military weapon and
person has been shipped off to some dark alley in the Central African Republic,
but because I don’t wear a red frock and a funny hat and live in Rome
potentially anymore, I’ll play fair.
I do plan however to make a few changes. “President” has
been past its sell-by-date now for quite a while and “King” has been on the
books for thousands of years. So I plan to, like Thabo Mbeki so unwisely
thought he was, become the Emperor of not only South Africa, but the whole of
Africa. The convenient fact that my military will be deployed all over the
continent and will crush any resistance from any of those corrupt and thankless
Governors of, what I will call “The Provinces”, is such a bonus that I nearly
became emotional for a second.
I am therefore calling on my voters to unite. I’m actually
calling a few dodgy politicians – not that I know of any politician who isn’t –
tonight to see if they could be so kind as to make way for the ruler, which is
me off course; or face the possibility of being made Minister of Tolls, Sport,
Health, Education, Potholes or any other department which will take millennia
to sort out.
In the meantime I will lie awake at night to think up more
changes and a few threats to bring any dissidents back on the straight and
narrow. I’ll keep you informed of any new innovative ideas I come up with.
Once the word gets out that Zumfie and his cronies are under
threat to lose their cushy positions in the front benches and may be relegated
to “Ministers Without Portfolios” – no this time they will really have nothing
to do, which is good as they’ve had a lot of practice – or even Deputy
Ministers of Agriculture or Correctional Services, the fox will be in the
grapevine and some worms might flee the can.
I still need a name for my new party though, as I apparently
need a party to belong to in order to appear on the ballot paper. I personally
prefer a rave instead of a party, so it may be another change I’d like to make,
but in the meantime I need some suggestions. So if you don’t mind, sharpen
those voting pencils and creative minds for a name for my new rave….
Groete uit die woestyn en van al die Arabiere.
H of Arabia
