Date: 1999/06/16
CAPE TOWN, JUNE 16
Local satirist and composer of nonsense verse, Ron McGregor, has been
admitted to the Aardbewing van Poggenpoel Clinic for Psychiatric Disorders,
suffering from AGADS (Acute Guilt and Depression Syndrome).
McGregor has been subdued and withdrawn ever since critics lambasted his
latest work, "Amazing political development in the Western Cape."
Influential critic, Mr Sabelo "Infallible" Ndabazimbabwe has apparently
slated McGregor, for, inter alia, not getting African surnames right, and
also failing to genuflect three times in the direction of Transkei every
time he uses the word "Mandela."
Authors throughout the country live in fear of Mr Ndabazimbabwe, as a stroke
of his pen can make or break a writer's career. As they say in the trade,
"If Sabsy tells it, Sabsy sells it," but the converse is also true. "If
Sabsy pans it, the public cans it."
McGregor now believes that his career is ruined. "I'll never sell another
article," he is reported to have said. Asked how many articles he had sold
in his career, he looked at his shoes and answered, "Well, actually, not
very many. But I was hoping."
Pressed to comment further, he said: "I never dreamed that Sabsy would be
so upset. I feel absolutely mortified at having so hurt his feelings. I
shall never lift a pen again until I overcome these deep-seated feelings of
remorse, especially at having got his name wrong."
In an effort to comfort him, our reporter pointed out that very few other
mortals could ever remember Sabsy's real name either.
"Yes, but it's not just Sabsy," cried McGregor. "It's everybody. I used to
know the name of that nice Mr Sam Shilowa, and now he calles himself
Mercedes Benz, or something. Then there was Benny Alexander, who I never
got wrong, until he couldn't decide whether he was a Boesman or a
Hotnot and decided to rename himself Khoisan X. And that dear Mr Madlala or whatever,
who used to be called Shepherd, is now called something totally unpronounceable.
To say nothing of the Archbishop of Cape Town, who used to be Winston
Ndongane, and is now Ublumbuglu Someone-or-Other."
Shaking uncontrollably, he lit another Camel Plain from the almost expired
one he had been smoking. A passing nurse told him to put it out, by order
of the Minister of Health.
"Yes, and I can't even remember the name of the (expletive deleted) whose
trying to rob me of the only pleasure I have left," wailed McGregor.
"Nkosazana Zuma," suggested our reporter, helpfully.
McGregor glared at him. "Have you got some kind of speech impediment?" he
demanded.
"No, that's her name. Nkosazana Zuma, Minister of Health."
"Humph! Well, that explains why things are in such a mess. You can't have
a health system that works when no one can address a letter to the person in
charge."
"Blacks can pronounce her name," said our reporter.
"That's fine. Then let blacks obey her rules. Let blacks go to her
hospitals. In fact, let her go on with the pretence that no one lives in
this country except blacks. And pass me another Camel, please."
Our reporter would have liked to have stayed, as McGregor was clearly
warming to his subject, and might possibly let slip through further evidence
of his racist tendencies. However, the nurse, Sister Hluhluwe
Mhlahahlabanane, insisted that he leave, as McGregor was seriously in need
of rest, recreation and alcohol, as prescibed by the attendant physician, Dr
Xavier Iego Cordoba de Constitucion MBBCH (Habana) FCCS (Ouagadougo).
So our reporter took his leave, leaving McGregor sitting alone in a
deckchair, singing softly
"You can stay as your are for the rest of your life
"Or you can change to Phutaditjaba.
"Then no one will know you, 'cept maybe your wife
"But stuff 'em, it's not their indaba."
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