South African President Jacob Zuma celebrates his birthday today, April 12. This is how I think his day would have gone down and the thoughts running through his head.
5.45am: *Alarm clock blares* Saw’bona Tuesday. Hoezit? Heh heh heh. It’s my birthday. Why I am awake? Where’s the snooze button?
6.30am: Sho. Now I’m awake. Mmmmm. Yummy. My wife is next to me. She’s about to use my automatic weapon. Yoh! But which one is she? Last time I got her name wrong I was in biiiiig trouble. Ag, forget it. Awulethu ibreakfast wam’.
6.32am: Got her name right. And then got her. Best birthday ever.
7am: This revolutionary French toast was delicious. Now I know why the cheese-eating French had a war. This breakfast is soooooo worth it.
7.02am: I had a shower. The media will probably write about this. Agents.
7.08am: I should have made this a public holiday. Not even I feel like going to work. Birthday is the new Monday.
7.30am: Said good morning to my bodyguard, Brutus. He always carries a knife and likes standing behind me and touching me between my shoulder blades. He makes me nervous. I think I might just re-assign him to look after Julius.
7.42am: At the office. Must put my diary down. Got another despot to have tea with. JZ 3, Tyranical Dictators 0.
1pm: Awulethu ilunch wam’. Phutu, beef curry, quarter loaf. My birthday lunch is untouchable. I love all of my wives for preparing this for me.
1.24pm: I savoured that meal. Was delicious. I shall thank all the chefs later, in my own special way. If you know what I mean…
3.12pm: Hawu! Fikile and Julius just called. I’m soooooo happy. They’re taking my to The Grand for my birthday. Strippers FOR THE WIN! Charlie Sheen will WISH he was me tonight.
3.14pm: Wives not happy that I’m going to The Grand. They think I’m picking out another wife. They’re wrong. She won’t be my wife, just my stukkie.
3.15pm: Okay, she won’t be my stukkie either. I’ll just stand there and watch her dance. *sings Eminem and Rihanna song*
3.59pm: Come on, clock! Move…faster…please… Yes, even the President is a clock-watcher.
4pm: Yeeeeeeees! Home time. Bring on the strippers.
4.02pm: Ah for crying out loud. Ghadaffi bombing again. Guess who’s stay late at the office tonight? Me, that’s who.
4.03pm: Today, a despot killed his own people. I had to phone him and tell him to calm down. He then bombed Bloemfontein in response. FML.
4.06pm: Thanks to Ghadaffi bombing Bloem, the FF+ will lost about…um…roughly 100% of their voters. Must send him a text later saying thanks.
4.32pm: Yes, finally got to go home. Ghadaffi said he was tired and needed to sleep. Sucks being old.
5.12pm: Drinks at Fikile’s house. His place is swagg! If only I didn’t have so many wifes and child support payments, I could so live like this. Chivas everywhere. Johnny Blue all over the place. Julius mixing it with coke. Retard.
6pm: VIP blue light cavalcade to The Grand. We be pimping, homies.
6.21pm: Grand is closed? Raided by police? Dammit, General Bheki. You’ll suffer for this.
6.23pm: Going home! Just realised that I’m 69 today. I shall make use of this healthy position I find myself in.
7pm: Home time. Wives not impressed. Guess my 69th won’t be my 69th. *sad face*
7.33pm: They’ve forgiven me. People just cant resist my smile. That’s how I got voted into power, remember?
7.36pm: Text for Hellen Zille: “Hpy bday Cde Prsdent. Lng Lve. C u on may 18. Lv u lng tme.” No idea what the eff she meant. Damn white people and their abbreviated SMSes… And they laugh at the way I speak. Douches.
7.38pm: Repled to GodZille: “Thank you, dear leader of the opposition, for your wonderful birthday message. I appreciated every word – well, those ones I could understand, anyway. Lots of love, Jacob.” English is my bitch.
8pm: Time for gifts! Whoo hoo!
8.13pm: What am I mean to do with a toaster? And whose sick idea was it to give me a comb. Worst birthday ever.
8.17pm: Grumpy. Booze finished. Going to bed. Night.
11.57pm: I love my wives. They made me happy – again, and again, and again. Polygamy is baws!