The Sunday Mail
Final Say
This time last week I was in Belgium and the surrounds, my dear readers.
Passport stamped, I was on the hunt for what ratebeer.com calls the best beer in the world at the current moment, Westvleteren.
I found it, made by the monks from St Sixtus — trust the Catholics to make the best beer in the world!
After all, Christ himself was Catholic if we follow the idea of the first pope being St Peter after the death of the first fisherman who, of course, was Christ. Ok, maybe I am pushing the link and the strength, but was it not Christ himself who turned water into wine?
That, therefore, explains my absence last week.
And when I landed back home, I was caught by a story of another chap — that man Morgan — saying he also loved his beer. Bless his imbibing lips.
Except that he misses Rhodesia because it had beer he could afford! My goodness me, isn’t the chap a cheapskate for someone who lives in a multi-million-dollar mansion?
He wants good brew at Rhodesian pump price! Now, if that isn’t itself drunken nostalgia, then I have no idea what is.
A foot-in-mouth classic.
Here is the ghost of Rhodes and his people following Morgan and his party and they are fighting to exorcise that ghost and prove to the world they are not Rhodie-controlled, only for Morgan to confess that he misses Rhodesia and Rhodesia was super!
Talk about the need to offload the fellow as soon as 1979.
Bring back our ethics
I found myself terribly angry. Where are the children’s rights activists if I may ask?
I have a principle that even the children of Hitler or George W. Bush, in spite of being children of terribly senile and evil men (I believe Bush was Hitler in superb disguise), also deserve to be protected. In spite of their black blood, they deserve to be treated with dignity and their privacy respected. And what did we see in the NewsDay this past week?
There paraded on the front page were the children of Robert Gumbura; the convicted sex pest and rapist, plastered on the front page.
Do these children, their school and schoolmates have no rights? Is it even ethical to paste them across the front page?
Who the hell is running NewsDay or is anybody running NewsDay for that matter? Who trained the so-called journalists there?
“Lord, help us,” was all I could say as these questions went through my mind.
It is terribly sad that our journalistic ethics need to be brought back. If only the children’s rights groups could take this issue up, for these kids deserve a lot better.
There’s Mugabe — having a burger. And it’s News!
The Daily News, squeezing a rock to get a lead story, had this headline on their front page: “Mugabe visits Trauma Centre”.
Ah! What news indeed.
He must have been unwell, I thought, so I dashed to get a copy to hear what ailed my dear President.
Turns out the chaps at the Daily News had no idea why the President was there and they figured that the absence of information and news is actually news itself.
What if the President was going to get Chatunga’s teeth filled by the dentist or what if the President decides to pop down to Chesa Nyama for a burger or something?
Another front page story, I presume! Those chaps have a habit of seeing people where they are not. Perhaps the President was just curious and had gone to see how the man Morgan sneaked out to flee the hospital and his bill.
Perhaps the President had gone there to settle Morgan’s bill!
Biti isn’t sick, my brothers!
And I found a little bit of a chuckle when I got back home to news that Tendai Biti, the head of the MDC Renewal Team, was warding off speculation that he was sick in a story carried by The Standard. It was quite a clever use of a front page picture. Amazing, no classic.
There was a much leaner Tendai compared to his Finance Ministry days. However, what I found telling was his amazing choice for headgear.
He was telling the world he is as fit as a fiddle and was wearing a cap courtesy of a major funeral parlour, emblazoned with something about a mega funeral plan.
Yes, yes, you certainly aren’t unwell, we get the picture.
Alpha and Omega
Since I started with that man Morgan, I might as well end with him. He is today’s Alpha and Omega. The chap was saying sorry or something for having been a dirty love rat.
Nice one, Morgy, for to err is human but to forgive is divine.
But that was too little too late, methinks. Either way, I found it pretty funny how he decided now was the time to own up.
He is a misunderstood man, he said, and the revelations a while ago that he listened to Westlife made sense.
He can look pretty lean when he apologises, a face fit for a boyband.
Problem is, the damage has been done and your knickers are in a twist, my dear brother man. Apology not accepted.
As a promise, however, next week I will leave dear Morgan on the bench and not field him in the column . . . my star striker deserves a rest.
Until next week, please keep the hints and observations rolling in. And, dear reader, let’s all keep our noses in the newspapers!
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