True bras get fired, go to jail for you and even pay your bills

CityPress - - Voices - Paddy Harper Follow me on Twit­ter @Pad­dyHarper1

Thurs­day morn­ing. The last day of Mam­para Week. Where I come from, that’s the week be­fore pay­day. I’m broke, bunsed, shoelaced, what­ever you’d like to call it. There’s no beer money. The chronic got smoked out long ago.

I’m re­duced to the street skunk. The plas­tic’s stretched so thin you could go trout fish­ing with it. It’s like that.

I’m pon­der­ing which of my mem­bers I can call for a seen right. The Croc’s out. Shoot­ers are no­to­ri­ous when it comes to money. Even worse than pol­i­tics writ­ers. The Gheng­i­na­tor’s in love so he’s blown all his cash on air tick­ets to Jozi. I’ve al­ready tapped JahNoDead.

I hit the TV re­mote to take my mind off be­ing broke. It’s that chan­nel with the Absa-type logo. I won­der if they got some­thing for that? Stranger things.

Phi­lani Mavundla’s on the screen. Mavundla was mayor of Grey­town. Un­til his coun­cil wanted to pass a vote of no con­fi­dence in him, de­spite his not tak­ing a salary. Strange that. Mavundla’s not wor­ried though.

Mavundla’s a con­struc­tion larney of some note. And the cat cred­ited with swing­ing the chiefs in the KwaZulu-Natal Mid­lands away from the grumpy Chief from Mahla­bathini and to­wards the ANC with the strate­gic de­ploy­ment, as it were, of lots of ten­der cash and the odd trac­tor or 17. Or at least that’s how the story goes.

Mavundla also owns half of Grey­town and is se­ri­ously loaded, de­spite his com­rades giv­ing the con­tract for the Moses Mab­hida Sta­dium to the wit ous.

I’m scrolling through my iPhone look­ing for Mavundla’s dig­its. I stop. I’m wast­ing my time. Mavundla’s al­ready got his hands full, hav­ing jumped to the head of the queue to of­fer to sort out the Com­man­der in Chief’s part of the bill for the makeover of his Nxa­m­alala possie.

And un­like the last lot of Mup­pet­sled DJ Foot in Mouth, he had the money to de­liver on his prom­ises. Mavundla’s telling the Absa chan­nel that he’s writ­ten to Thuli to ask her to send him the bill and he’ll set­tle it for the larney.

Straight EFT, no cheque in the post, no pledge at the fundrais­ing din­ner that gets for­got­ten by Mon­day morn­ing. Hard cash, baby.

That must be re­ally cool for the Com­man­der in Chief, hav­ing bras like that. My mem­bers drink me out ev­ery chance they get. Num­ber 1’s bras get fired for him, go to jail for him, want to kill for him and even want to pay his bills for him.

That’s what I call bras.

That must be re­ally cool for the Com­man­der in Chief, hav­ing bras like that

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