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Good lady, are you aware that used men’s underwear is also trending at Kotamayi Boutiques?

Who am I?

Once upon a time it looked like I was invincible. The puny attempts to attack me were all doomed to fail. The jealousy journalists and their inflammatory stories about my altered age, misplaced millions and other such stupid allegations never made an impact where it mattered. The gods were firmly in my camp.

Then suddenly someone had the bright idea of pulling the rug from under my feet. My patron was removed from his perch and left me without the benefit of the looming shadow he cast over any attempts to get rid of me.

I was sure that the new guy would understand the need to bat for the team, whatever the circumstances. But this dude’s actions, hey, that is so not cricket.

First of all he turns out be a Twitter celeb posting pictures of himself drinking tea all over town with the enemy. Not that he endeared himself with the people with that one seeing as he seems to just like the right side of the tracks where they do not live with burst sewer pipes in the kitchen and heaps of garbage outside the gate.

But that is nothing to do with me because I never cared anything about the unwashed masses anyway except as sources of money to fund my luxury lifestyle of deluxe holidays and big dog cars.

What really matters is that I have been removed from top of the dung heap and you can bet your last dollar that anyone poking the morass with a stick is going to find plenty of maggots. Do you know of any good prophet who can get me out of this one? Do you think that loud mouth who claims to have helped that woman become a minister could assist me avoid the ton of bricks that looks set to crash on my head?

And I guess it does not help that now it has become apparent that I was the problem when I should have been the solution. For in the short time they have turfed me physically out of the door they have managed to bring sanity into the city.

The vendors are practically gone and the only ones left are the genuine lot who really make a living out of running away from the municipal cops and not the chancers and hired guns who had decided to use my inefficiency and bungling for their own ends. Why even mention the order being restored into the construction zones?

Prophets, stop with the, waving bandanas, dead people, the nights of nothing and the attacks on other fellow shepherds. This is your chance to prove that you can call down useful miracles. Save my skin and your fame and fortune will be guaranteed for posterity.

House of comedy

We have said it before and we will say it again, the live televised parliamentary debates are the best thing to happen to this country in a long time. They really do make our week. We noted with deep glee the silence of one usually vocal gentleman after his name has been linked to millions that sank into a deep black hole instead of covering potholes.

For the record at the usual place we especially despise people who practice any–ism. So we feel the need to say that the male MP who shouted out that the Ndebele speaking female MP should go back home for wanting to converse in her mother tongue should himself be banned from holding any political office for the rest of his pea-brained life. Such stupidity in one occupying such an important office really makes us want to puke. And we think the other idiot and his sexual harassment tendencies should also crawl back into hole that he oozed out of.

But we really loved the underwear display. We thought the pieces in question looked quite colourful and we can understand why women who love garish stuff would want to own it. And if we are to judge by the outer garments that we see all around, then it looks like there is quite a number. So if it is banned will the State not be seen to be infringing on their rights?

At the risk of the usual accusation of trivialising women’s issues, we would want to respectfully advise the belligerent MP that used men’s underwear is also trending at Kotamayi boutiques. But perhaps the wearing of pants that some horny spoiled Westerner once jerked off in is not detrimental to men’s health.

And incidentally, why do these women buy these used panties? Last time we checked our good friends the Chinese had flooded the market with female panties of all shapes, colours and sizes for as little as 50 cents each. But maybe those are too flimsy to hold the cow dung and tree leaves during the monthly cycle?

Nail on the head

We will freely admit that we did not expect much from the new minister of the people (— seeing as gender does not mean women). We thought she would give us the usual story of that poor and odd creature called a girl child instead of just a girl or a child.

But she has totally earned our respect by zeroing in on the endless workshops where women always sing and shake the only things their mamas bequeathed them then turn around and accuse the media of trivialising their issues! We wonder if female focused NGOs are going to start a negative campaign seeing as the minister is going for the jugular by severing their lifeline. For besides holding workshops and telling us improbable stories of cow dung and leaves, what else do they do?

Unavoidable topics

Much as you detest that Eriza song and if you are old enough you only appreciate the tribute to Elizabeth Taderera, you cannot help finding yourself humming along as it blares out of every kombi, clothing shop and bar. In the same way we cannot avoid talking about the dreaded missives. Our two cents worth is that we hope someone is doing a survey of the sacked workers to see how many wear prophet wristbands and have the “Dzungu” stickers on their cars.

The dreaded missive

Most regulars have undergone an amazing character overhaul in the past few days. They no longer trawl social media platforms posting inane selfies during working hours. And they now leave the business premises well after knocking off time instead of sneaking out an hour before to come to the usual place. And the bosses have never had it so good as all employees struggle to prove that they are valuable to the organisation. Everyone is living in the fear of receiving the dreaded missive saying that the next three month’s salary is on the company and your presence will no longer be required. Suddenly we now know the truth: The customer is king but the boss is god.

Last call: Bosses first

It goes without saying that the three months’ notice law means that you and I have to get some dusty knees and elbows as well as some very brown noses.

A long wet tongue would also help. Because now it looks like the bosses are exercising their right to fire you for looking at them sideways, never mind the snide comments about their nepotism and gross mismanagement gaffes. So next time before you open your big mouth just close your eyes and say to yourself, “Three months” 100 times.

A sales rep, an administration clerk, and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an antique oil lamp. They rub it and a Genie comes out. The Genie says: “I’ll give each of you just one wish.”

“Me first! Me first!” says the administration clerk. I want to be in the Bahamas, driving a speedboat, without a care in the world.” Poof! She’s gone.

“Me next! Me next!” says the sales rep. “I want to be in Hawaii, relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of Pina Coladas and the love of my life.” Poof! He’s gone. “OK, you’re up” the Genie says to the manager. The manager says: “I want those two back in the office after lunch.”

Moral of the story: Always let your boss have the first say. – source: – jokes4us.com

Till next week, bottoms up!

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