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Bar Talk with Bra Gee 

If the Panama Papers have taught us anything it is that the world over, real criminals always get away with it. A few slaps on the wrist, golden handshakes and even new cushy posts are what we will most probably see, as usual. Taken to the cleaners We sure do hope that this party formed by people forced to find a new home after being expelled from their warm quarters in the old will be getting lots of money on top of empty awards. Because it sure does look like they are going to need it, if ever the Humpty-Dumpty characters are to be successfully remounted on the wall.

There is the former governor who is practically a pauper now. And the other fellow who used to siphon off the capital from the service stations who now no longer has two cents to rub together. The kingpin or should that be queen pin herself is likely to lose quite a chunk when that estate wrangle is finally laid to rest. Now one bank has taken one of the party’s top players to the cleaners as they are set to sell his combine harvester, tractor, planter, irrigation pipes and pieces of a tractor. Oh, there will also be 93 herd of cattle, 45 sheep and 41 goats for the regulars who prefer to leave agro-production to other beings and just consume the products. But there are no sour oranges in the auction lot. We were wondering why the lemony oranges are no longer to be found in Chegutu and now we have our sweet answer.

As we said, we hope that the funders have set aside a sizeable kitty for their hopefuls because we hear that being broke is their new permanent state of being as the auction gent is not the only one singing the money blues. Welcome to the world of the povo, compatriots.

Maybe, just maybe

Like the rest of the Tendai Munhus roaming the streets and village paths of Zimbabwe, the regulars at the usual place are really tired of reading about big jefes who have been caught with not just their paws but their arms as well firmly stuck in the cookie jar. Because we know exactly what happens to them; a big fat nothing. All they have to do is put on a brave face as they endure a few weeks of embarrassing publicity. Then it all blows over as a new scandal emerges.

But hope springs eternal and we continue to hold on to our faith that one day we are actually going to see some justice delivered. So for now we will hold our breaths and wait for the current scandals to show us their true colours. Will the suspended lot ever find their way back to the honey pot? Will the PR consultancy end with a light bulb moment? We also pray that premier tender board audit is going well. Maybe, just maybe, there will be something to write home about.

But we are not making any bets. If the Panama Papers have taught us anything it is that the world over, real criminals always get away with it. A few slaps on the wrist, golden handshakes and even new cushy posts are what we will most probably see, as usual.

No novelty in nudity

Talking does not always translate into speaking. We really wonder why anyone would waste resources, time and space talking about images of nude models as though that is news. Seriously, we would love to meet models without nude images. So we do not see why we are expected to be excited by news that someone has a portfolio of models showing off their birthday suits. We would be more interested to hear when we can expect a proper representative who will bring the crown home.

Staying with the models, we are sorry for the ladies who thought they had a chance of acing the man. Of course at the usual place we never understood the guy’s attraction beyond the limelight, but there has never been an accounting for taste and the girls always hover around him like so many flies over a heap of dung. The girls were even prepared to get into the gutter by competing to claim to be the main dish, instead of letting the loud mouthed one give them the apparently coveted title. Now the models have been silenced with the image of what the man who played with them considers a suitable candidate for his kitchen.

1 000 useless words

They say a picture is worth a 1 000 words. But sometimes these are just empty letters. Take that musician who seems to be gaining more fame for his bedroom antics than his rather flat musical beat. Let us backtrack. There was that NAMA ceremony when he caused a stir after accepting a proposition from a radio personality whose marital status is a common topic for gossip. (Does this marriage really exist?) Then he was linked to the spirit medium who could be his granny on account of the hairstyle they share. Recently he was said to have been caught pants down. Those are only a few of the highlights with more shenanigans in between.

Anyway, on Mother’s Day, said musician posted the image of his wife in an effort to prove that although he might share other parts of his body with all comers, only this woman is the owner of his heart. The others are just so many mattresses, he is alleged to have told the woman who is supposed to be the love of his life. Oh, yeah? Sounds to us as though this dude is just out to have his cake and eat it too. But then again, love is a wonderful thing. We hear that the lady in question is on top of the world because her man has let the side dishes know just what is what. To such women her image as his profile picture is all the evidence she needs that the man is really hers, never mind who else knows him in the biblical sense. But if she expects him to stop lifting up every skirt he comes across or pulling down every pair of slacks covering a female bottom, then good luck to her.

Who said it was easy

The rumour lines burned red hot this past week when one upcoming entrepreneur was allegedly evicted from the much vaunted business premises. The sources say that entrepreneur’s chattels were thrown out before some Samaritan provided the overdue funds to allow readmission.

We are sure the rival must be laughing long and loud. To think this upstart thought that it would be easy to just walk in and become a star premier league player after years based on experience as a gofer? But the usual place we are rather fond of this regular and we believe that she will not give up, even if she must hold on by her bra straps until she makes it. And if she must occasionally get on her back to make things move, then so let it be. Who are we to judge a sister using what her mama gave her?

Last call: A horse called Tino

A woman came up behind her husband while he was enjoying his morning coffee and slapped him on the back of the head.

“I found a piece of paper in your pants pocket with the name ‘Tino’ and a number written on it,” she said, furious. “You had better have an explanation.”

“Calm down, honey,” the man replied. “Remember last week when I was at the horse track? That was the name of the horse I bet on.”

The next morning, his wife snuck up on him and smacked him again.

“What was that for?” he complained.

“Your horse called last night,” she replied — jokes4all.ne

Till next week, bottoms up!

Facebook: Bra Gee, Email: [email protected]’, Twitter: @brageesbar