The hardest part

I have a sneaky suspicion that the ‘chief” of the Mighty Movement’s Youth Group has “romantic” designs on my position.

He goes by the  moniker of Julius M, but for the sake of non-transparency (the thought of having my nuts cut off does not appeal to me), lets call him Bra (brother/bro) J.

Bra J has a rather loose relationship with his tongue and seems impervious to the subtle persuasions of Mr Sebenza Whataboy Ditlopo. I feel that I may need to lean a bit harder on my minister of inland security in this regard. I think the promise of a nicely located farm may do the trick and spur him into action.

Now, Bra J has taken a certain large banking institution (we shall call them BledBank for sake of expediency) to task for reasons of glamour and fame. In doing so, I assume he is also gathering Momentum (not the financial institution, though) around his cause of youth orientated activities, legal and otherwise. The main focus of his cause seems to be rather unfocused, but then again, most dictators start off with fuzzy ideals and a huge all-consuming lust for power. And this, I assume is what is driving Bra J. With this momentum, I assume he wishes to drive me from my presidential palace and seat himself upon the throne of power, as it were.

Whilst I do not wish to lose the unrivalled power which I currently posses (I love the ability to jet off to Paris to do grocery shopping), I must stop to admire the youth’s drive and vigour.

Oh the paradox!

And that is the hardest part of  dictatorship.

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