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Bull elephant, king



BULL elephant, king of kings, scourge of Rhodesian sellouts, conquistador of filthy British puppets, silky manipulator of the masses, master of judges, panzer fuhrer of green bombadiers, liberato

r of farms, mystical mirror of the nation, emperor of the media, child of the ancestors, wondrous worker of economic miracles, instant T-shirt designer, BA in violence, great puff pastry. (Do you think I’ve got his attention now? He loves this stuff.)


Greetings, grovels and genuflexions… Fancy a little flutter on the presidential stakes? I’m prepared to bet you in crisp new Zimbabwe notes, not this grubby forex you have, that by June 30, 2004 you will be Il Caudillo presidente no more.


Oh you’ll still be around, the TV talkshows need you. But you will, I regret, only be an elder statesman.


No more flying first class trips to kiss and cuddle with Chirac, no more Machiavellian addresses to an adoring African Union, no holidays in Kuala Lumpur or those naughty little shopping trips with Grace.


Look, don’t let it get you down. I’m sure Morgan Tsvangirai will allow you certain perks: free phone calls to chums (Muammar Gaddafi in Libya, Professor Moyo in jail, Patrick Chinamasa in Mudzi, Kim Jong Ill in North Korea and so on).


And perhaps a year’s subscription to the Economist to give you a nostalgic chance to cross check where it all went wrong.

Shame. Paul Tingay, Pomona. of kings

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