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.


Kill the who? The what?


I have been busy.

Real busy.

Mainly putting out party fires, including (but not limited to) the conflagration started by one Gwede M in the Palace living room. And all this because a junior resident member of the Palace, late one night (and after way too much Johnny Walker Blue – No less – remember Jim Bean White Label is a No No!) refused to stop singing a very catchy, but rather inciteful song.

MmmMMMmmm, kiss the farmer...no...thats the wrong word?

Kill the...aah...kill the...mmm...Shite, I forgot the words! Ummm???

Apparently certain members of the voting public took offense, as it were, and complained bitterly about being wiped off the face of the earth and/or driven into the sea. A comment was made that why should they be driven, when they can walk. Five points yet again to Samson, the Tea Boy. (I am considering a promotion for the man. After all, many of my ideas may be attributed to the tea bearer’s insightful proclamations).

So, I did what every other democratically elected leader would do. I appointed a committee of convicted felons to appoint a task group to decide if other convicted criminals should chair a hearing to appoint a disciplinary hearing. I further left it in their hands to decide who should be the accused.

Oh, and I decided to throw myself a parade with guns and boats on trailers and tanks and infantry and planes and ambulances and everything.(The submarines were out-of-order at the time).

Because that’s what being a leader is all about, really. Doing that which makes one feel better.