At your own risk ...

IT’S been a horrible week. I don’t usually get sick, but on Monday morning I woke up with a terrible bout of a lesser known virus called Cosatu flu. I went to the office but didn’t feel like working at all. By Tuesday I was trying to convince my colleagues not to work at all. On Wednesday I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, stop dancing outside my boss’s office while singing a song called “give me eight percent”.

And on Thursday I had to be escorted out of the office by security after I started pelting working colleagues with office supplies.

I do hope my condition improves soon. I really would like to get back to work soon.

I only mention this story because I wasn’t the only one throwing things at people this week. I’m referring to the DACosatu clash in Braamfontein, in case you’re wondering.

It must have been somewhat of a surreal experience for Cosatu members to see hordes of blue T-shirt wearing softies prancing down the streets of central Joburg towards them.

I’m pretty sure one of those Cosatu blokes must have said, “Hey, this isn’t right. Aren’t we the ones who do the demonstrating?”

In fact, I think many within the organisation would have seen this as an insult and a challenge to their monopoly on mass action, civil disobedience and public nuisance.

News of the DA protest would’ve gotten to Cosatu’s director of violence who, upon being informed, would have put down the phone and reached into his top drawer for his favourite rock (the one autographed by Dwayne Johnson) and said, “Today they marching, tomorrow they’re instigating strikes at Kauai stores. Where does it stop? Let’s show them who’s boss!”

To be honest, the DA are rank amateurs when it comes to public confrontations or riots. And that’s probably why Cosatu kicked their asses – they’re just more experienced at that sort of thing.

I bet after the first DA supporter was hit by a rock the rest of them wished they were back in the burbs safe and sound sipping on skinny decaf cappuccinos.

Granted, there were some