Who shall tell the president?

The president was in a panic this morning and quickly sent for his medical team to put his mind at ease. You see, he had had a very bad premonition that a certain newspaper(I use that word ever so sparingly in this case) had claimed that he was sick and dying as evidenced by his sausage finger. Or he had dreamt it. He could not be quite sure. Although, it was not a premonition really. It is just that the dear president had opened his eyes just in time to catch the press guy swapping today’s front page of Redpepper with yesterday’s copy. A priest caught bonking a married wife was a safer bet than “Museveni is Sick.” What religious leaders got up to was not top of the agenda today, unless of course it was Patience. So anyway, he sent for his medical team, who ran tests on his finger and changed his band aid and pronounced him good to go for another 20 years. Or so.

I read the story and thought again that journalists must be the luckiest bunch of people. They write stories, and early morning, in the safety of their swinging chairs pull out their binoculars and scan the impact of their foray. From their headquarters in Namanve, Redpepper mounted their chairs at the rooftop and proceeded to see how everybody was headed up to statehouse to pay their condolences. They were shocked that only Janet had rushed up to state house from her station In Gulu to pay her respects. She was also turned away at the gate and told that the president had a case of the manicure gone wrong, nothing a band aid would not fix. Like that, she turned around and went back to playing Messiah in Karamoja.

Disappointed that their headline did not cause mass impact, Redpepper vultures went back to Seeta bar and Inn, where they ordered for the cheapest gin and proceeded to coin the next day’s story. And headline.

Meanwhile in state house, the president went about his duties, and other political cartoonists scratched their heads trying to figure out how to spin the whole thing. After piles and piles of drafts and baskets full of waste paper, Ras decided to go back to drawing dogs, cows, goats, and ants with massive balls.

I post today coz even I have become embarrassed by the image I am met with when I open this here page

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10 loungers burdening me:

31337 said...

Madam. You now write for this restaurant Red Pepper, yes?

Baz said...

Koplonk! Then climbs back onto chair.

Manicure gone wrong. Har! Koplonk again.

B2B said...

Only becoz you are embarrassed too..

i like the part about Seeta Bar & Inn...

cheapest gin available!!
LOLs..

The Edge said...

The president would like to categorically state that the sore thumb was the result of a misunderstanding he had with the first lady...

Miss Cheri said...

Bonking?

nevender said...

Gwe Cheri...ssshhhh..Don't even go there.

Sybella said...

bambi muse, he suffers

The Phantom said...

you, child, have been given the top honour of 'Master of Tongue in Cheek.' Yes, honoured; so raise your chin and be proud.Yes, Master.

Emi's said...

I always thought you are one of those spoilt mass com /lit students who had the pepper in their hands.
lol it must be tite

Robyn said...

the media n there mambo jambo
they should be caned
on the stomach

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