…Aaand we’re back.


It was said today at the Farlam Commission of Inquiry that the Marikane shooting bruhaha has been the most disturbing incident in our democracy.

To say that this piece of information comes as a relief is a great understatement.

You need to understand that for the last year or so, I have believed that it was me, not Marikana.

Goes to show how bad press can ruin ones day, as it were.


Smashing! Wonderfull! "Twas not me!

Smashing! Wonderfull! “Twas not me!


Nelson Mandela


So, that’s it then – the old boy is gone.

I sit here trying to think of something witty to say, but there is nothing.

Somehow, I thought he would carry on forever. I mean, he overcame so much, so what would death be to him? He will survive death too.

Seems I was wrong.

Never let it be said that Africa does not produce magnificent leaders


That is all.


This Post is off topic


In case you missed the above:

This post is off topic.

Today, I would like to discuss blog awards.

Welcome. To. Facebook? (Thats WTF?)

Yes, blog awards. I have been taking a gander beyond myself lately and have been perusing “other people’s'” blogs, as it were and I have noticed that there is this notion of nominating people for blog awards.

As in: “Hi TruedustFaereyFolk, I just loved your latest post. So I nominated you for the “Lifetime Achievement Biscuit Dunking Award”. You just need to come to my site and collect it.

Firstly – Nominate?

Again – Welcome. To. Facebook?

Nominate does not mean win. I mean, just ask Keanu Reeves – He has been nominated for tons of things, but all he has ever won is scorn. And rightly so.

Example: For best actor in a major motion picture are: Ben Stiller, nominated for his role as Blah Blah in Blah Blah Blah, Michael J Fox, nominated for his role as Blah Blah in Blah Blah Blah and Keanu Reeves, nominated for his role as Neo in The Matrix. And the winner is…NOT KEANU REAVES!

Secondly, why do I need to go to your site to collect it? Huh?

Post it to me.

"scuse? Huh? An Award? For what? The Longest, Most Persistent Fool Award? Wow!

“scuse? Huh? An Award? For what? The Longest, Most Persistent Fool Award? Wow!

Thirdly, what the hell are these things about?

The Liebster Award? Whats this? The Nobel Peace Prize for assistance in helping others with proper punctuation and apostrophe placement? (You’re welcome, dammit)!

The Beautiful Blog Award? One might as well come up with an award for the best ability to misplace Lego figurine heads! I will call it the Gillooly’s Interchange Award. (You can Google it, it’s a thing, OK).

I have decided that I will never accept such an award. They mean zippo!

What I do want, however (and take note Father Christmas), is that bloody elusive blue tick next to my damn twitter account!

That is all.

The sacrifices that I make!


In the light of Pravin Gordhan’s latest little money talk and given that next year is an election year, I have decided to heed his advice and do a few cut-backs myself.

Financially speaking of course.

So henceforth, as it were, all deliveries made to Nkandla (that bastion of freedom) containing purchases etc made at tax payers expense, shall be made to the gate and no longer to the front door.

The reason being is that the drive to the front door is long and thus a waste of petrol and tax payers’ hard earned cash.


You got to let me go to his front door. I have his DSTV magazine!

You got to let me go to his front door. I have his DSTV magazine!


So, there it is, Mr Gordhan, my bit for the financial stability of this country.

Please don’t ask more of me!



I thought it was the end of the world (as I knew it) and I did not feel fine!


So there I was, having a later afternoon Johnnie Walker Blue before going in to dinner, when a God-Almighty bang or thunder-clap (as it were) ripped through my “end of day” peace, dashing it into a million shards (much like the crystal glass now on the floor – oh it would be funny if those just over the hill in Mams saw how we lived)!

Initially I thought that my rule had come to an abrupt and solid end, as God was making good on my promise to the voting populace, namely that we will rule till Jesus comes back.

No such luck – as I often worry that global warming will get us first.

My next thought was that it really was the end. The hordes had jumped the barricades and were headed for the palace. (“I began to breathe, to breathe at the thought of such freedom,  stood and whispered to Gwede: belong. I held Gwede and whispered, with calm, calm: belong” – with thanks to Mr M Stipe)

I found myself hoping for the Second Coming, or at the very least; global warming. That would be a convenient truth.


Nobody move and nobody gets hurt!

Don’t hurt me. I promise I wont ever look at Lady Justice that way again. Promise. Just don’t shoot!

Turns out it was just my man, Mr Sebenza Whataboy Ditlopo, Minister of Inland Security, shooting at the Starlings in the Fig tree – he uses the figs for a fantastic jam.

Anyhow, it seems the State Armory still has a few cannons that the Boeremag forgot to steal a few years back.

Their loss, as they say, is our gain!

Where have all my followers gone?


I have noticed, with a growing sense of irritation, that some of my twitter followers have been abandoning the proverbial ship.

So Gwede (that’s Mantashe) and I sat down around some Johnny Walker Blue (that’s Whiskey) to figure out where the problem lies, as it were.

Me first.

I have discovered a parody twitter account by the name of Jacob G. Zuma (note the period), aka @SAPresident. Now this account comes complete with that stupid little Nike tick at the end, which I am advised by my advising advisors, means that it is a gen-u-wine (that’s American talk) and verified twitter account.

WTF? (that’s Welcome to Facebook).

Now the bupkiss (that’s British colonialists talk) that this parody account comes up with is ludicrous. (that’s the Truth).

For example: Over the last decade, six of the world’s ten fastest growing economies were in Africa.

And: Let us celebrate the Jubilee by promoting peace, unity, dignity and prosperity in our beloved continent! Happy Africa Day to all!

I mean, with all due respect, who pens this sort of stuff?

I have my suspicions. Enter Stage Left: Jackson Mthembu. (that’s theatre talk)

I have noticed Jackson clickety clickety clacking away on the new Blakburry he bought a few weeks back when we went to Chinatown. And discrete inquiries with my service provider tell me that Twitter on a cellular telephone is the next big thing.

So it is apparent that some of my followers are following the tick, as it were. Let me say this – just ‘cos he drives a nice BMW with leather seats and low profiles, don’t mean he’s gonna be nice to you, sweetie!


Hey JZ, my bra! You sure this is what they talk about when they say “Tweeting”? Where is the hashtag button?

Now Gwede, on the other hand, believes that it may have had something to do with my duck tweet of a few weeks back.

Given that Gwede is the more intelligent of the two of us, I am inclined to accept his reasoning.

An open Apology.


I have never been one for writing, hence the poorly drafted secrecy bill.

For that I apologise.

Oh, and for Winnie Mandela as well.

There, I said it!