I really wanted to write “SA-positive” stuff about the World Cup today but, after enormous pressure was exerted on me, I have agreed to allow Mr Julius Malema, through his newly-appointed public relations officer Hugh Mangazi, to disseminate a press release in the wake of his exoneration by President Jacob Zuma…
From the desk of Hugh Mangazi, press relations officer to Mr Julius Malema, President of the African National Congress Youth League – April 20, 2010:
My dear comrades, my fellow citizens of South Africa and loyal members of the African National Congress, I have been quiet. I have kept a dignified silence since the outrageous attack on my integrity by that boy from the BBC, right there in Luthuli House, the inner sanctum of the ruling party and the heart of our struggle.
My personal struggle continues. But I have lost it. I won’t keep quiet any longer. I have been asked to keep quiet, people have pleaded with me to maintain my dignified and honourable silence. I have been forced to bear witness to further attacks on my person, my very own studio, by an army of agents masquerading as journalists, bastards and cowardly desktop activists.
But now that I have been exhilarated by President Zuma of the nonsensical charges of bringing the party into disrepute, I will be quiet no longer. I have a right, indeed a freedom of speech, to address the concerns of my supporters, my followers, my adoring masses and, indeed, my hangers-on.
No longer shall I lurk in the shadows like a scolded dog while the imperialist agents of the world’s media take turns to whip me on every part of my massive studio. I shall never be silenced in my untiring efforts to return my country to the people. The people who really matter. Like my tailors, my shoemakers, my bodyguards, my chauffeurs and my party planners.
I’ll have you know that, when it comes to studios, I have the most expensively assembled one of them all. The biggest and most powerful equipment. Size matters. And, when I am ready to make my move and grab the biggest microphone of them all, I will father multitudes of children by many wives and an assortment of other women who are just gagging to fall under my spell.
And I will preside over them all. I will be their President. My nation of children. And their tailors, shoemakers etc. They say that power is the best Afrodisiac. Well, when they are given a tour of my studio, some lucky enough to be cast on my couch for potential first ladies, they will know that I am the man.
The only man to take them to the promised land. Land where they can grow their own mielies, fully orgasmic and free of pesticides… and other nasty agents like those Boere who refuse to pay our people for their hard work.
Yes, my people, my adoring masses, the future is bright… and the future is, like, fully Malematic.
Take this World Cup. The media, the agents, the bloody bastards have been saying that the songs I sing, those released from my studio, have been destabilising South Africa just before the World Cup. This is complete kak, the work of the imperialist agenda. I say to them, go and jump in the English Channel, where you belong. The bloody agents must jump. And that Brazilian agent who gets all that money to coach our Bafana Bafana… he must go and jump in the sea near Rio. He doesn’t know our soccer, our culture, our slow foreplay from the defensive back four through midfield before we score.
The boy from Brazil doesn’t even speak our language. How can our players even understand him. Bloody agent. No, I will take over Bafana Bafana for this World Cup. The players will understand me, my tactics. And when they are out on the field, representing South Africa in front of the same number of people that I get at a rally, they will certainly hear me when I shout instructions. “Kill the ball! Play it to feet! Keep it on the grassroots!”
Yes, I will lead South Africa to a glorious victory on our own soil. The soil of my fathers. And I want to wear the No 6 jersey when I lift the World Cup trophy… after we have beaten those bloody agents from England in the final. And then that boy from the BBC must interview me.
I look forward to making him apologise. But now, I must go back into my studio. I have a new song that I am working on. It’s going to be a No 1 hit. I’ve called it “Don’t Shoot the Messenger, Kill the bloody News Agents!”