September 3 – Funeral Blues

Gah.  I have a pounding head after getting absolutely shit-faced last night.  I had to.  It was the only way I could force out my eulogy to that treacherous lackey Mwanawasa, mercifully buried for good today in Lusaka.  I actually called him a “courageous leader… who will be greatly missed”, through my gritted dentures.  Later, I knelt at his wife’s feet in what was mistakenly reported as a gesture of remorse and servitude.  In fact, one of my plastic knees had simply given way.  Fortunately, the hacks didn’t notice when I leaned over to spit on the bastard’s grave.  Heh heh.  Mwanawasa once referred to Zim under my leadership as a “sinking Titanic”, which is the height of insolance and ignorance.  Zimbabwe is nothing if not a Challenger space rocket, roaring towards a spectacular, shared destiny.  My leadership has been as dazzling as it has been universally popular – I have no doubt that my reign will be remembered throughout the land as The Champagne Years… now, where did I put the paracetamol?


August 30 – 19 Suitcases of money

7.30am Statehouse, Harare Zimbabwe

Grace; ‘Bobby come down out of that office and have some breakfast!’

RM; ‘No woman, didn’t you hear me the first time? I’m not hungry!’

Grace; ‘You’re not still stewing about the opening of Parliament are you? That was last Tuesday for Christ sake!’

RM; ‘No it is not that, now just leave me alone!’

Doesn’t that blonde bimbo get it? Sometimes a guy just wants time alone. Yes I am hacked off, but not about how the MDC behaved in parliament. I figured I get my thugs out to teach the English school boy wannabes what it really means to be buggered!

No, what I am angry about is that Emerson wouldn’t let me give the speech I wanted to give yesterday at the ceremony for that swimmer, Kristy Coventry. Emerson rewrote what I had written and really didn’t give the meaning I was trying to convey. His rewrite said:

‘Our national spirit must exude joy and pleasure and say you have done well,
daughter of Zimbabwe. We are proud of you, we wish you well. She’s our
golden girl … take care of her’.
My original said:

Hey, what’s the matter with the brothers? Our national spirit has been shamed as it was only this white b***h that done won the gold! She ain’t no Zimbabwean, the tart don’t even live here! We’re ashamed that we need to acknowledge this honkie girl. Make sure the War Veterans take care of her.’
Now I ask you, does Emerson’s version really convey the same spirit as mine?
I wasn’t too sure about giving that cracka $100,000 US for winning those medals, but watching Gideon have to give up that suitcase filled with the money made it all worthwhile! I thought we were going to have pry his hands off the handle he was gripping it so hard. The brother’s knuckles were turning white! The money was $100,000 that he had pilfered from some businesses’ foreign currency account. He thought that I didn’t know about it and planned to send that money out to his account in Dubai, but I caught just before he could send it out and told we needed it for that white chick.
He tried to pull a fast one on us when he pulled up earlier in the day in a Reserve Bank armoured truck with 19 suitcases. When I asked him if that was $100,000 US, he said’ ‘yes it is!’. I had someone check and it turned out, he had filled the suitcases with Zimbabwe dollars. So, I had to send to get the real thing. Right up until he gave it to the honkie girl I thought we might see them wrestle for it!

August 28 – Insubordination

I got the distinct whiff of something unpleasant at the Opening of Parliament yesterday, and I’m not talking about the supposed ‘insubordination’ from the gin-swilling white boy-wannabes of the MDC. I simply turned off my hearing aid and took out my Malaysian cataract lenses. Couldn’t see or hear a thing! Hah. No, this was something far more pungent. Suspicion rests upon Gono, who I have it on good authority took one of his myriad girlfriends out for a curry last night. The smell had them rolling in the bloody aisles (pun intended), and was probably the cause of all that damned commotion on the opposition benches. Therefore, my first Presidential Decree of the new session is: No Farting In The Presidential Presence And A Steamed Vegetable Diet For The Head Of The Central Bank While Parliament Is In Session. I thank you.

Aug. 26 – Love More, Love Less

So, the parliament has convened and elected someone called “Lovemore” as speaker.  WTF?!?  Has the MDC resorted to recruiting porn stars to their parliamentary ranks, such is the depth of their unpopularity?  This development makes an utter sham of Zimbabwe’s thriving democratic culture.  If only this Brit-brown-nosing clown knew about the shark-tank I’d had installed under the Speaker’s Chair, there would have been less of his piffle about “a new era in Zimbabwe”, and a little more of the wild-eyed, tub-thumping xenophobia that we all know and love.  I would have been there to put a stop to it permanently, but was undergoing a full skeletal replacement procedure at the time.  Good thing to do, actually.  McCain’s people recommended it.  And to think, Grace said I’d never be able to tie my own shoe-laces again!


The ‘National Unity’ talks continue at a snail’s pace.  Tsvangirai had some difficulty spelling his own name when we signed a recent Memorandum of Understanding, so Thabo and I used finger-puppets to demonstrate how the break-down of executive powers would work between the legislature and executive branches.  Sheesh.  I just wish the idiot could put down his crayons for a few seconds while we agree how he should be most effectively bought off and side-lined.  Still, it’s not all bad news.  Inflation just hit 11 million%, which is a new record and I think we can all agree there could be no more concrete endorsement of my economic legacy than that.

August 24 – Sunday Blue

I had to make sure that I cleared my scheduled from 2.30pm until about 4.30pm today. I also made sure that ‘she who must be obeyed’ and the rug rats were not going to be in State House for the afternoon. I’m going to indulge in my latest new past time, watching Chelsea Football Club! They play Wigan, which to me to just sounds like a horrible place, but then again I can’t think of anywhere on that slime infested pukey little island that does sound attractive.

I’ve recently had several visits from the owner of Chelsea and all around good guy Roman Abramovich. He has promised to spend billion in our beloved country, so I figure that the least that I could do is support his football club. Roman has even given me a Chelsea kit, with my name on it!

I know, I did suffer with a few pangs of guilt that I was supporting the national game of those imperialist brigands in England. Then I thought why not support Chelsea, their owner is Russian, their coach Brazilian and most of the players are from anywhere but England. Even the likes of Didier Drogba and Michael Essien hail from Africa. Now I just need to learn the songs that rip on Arsenal and West Ham!

August 23 – The Power of Persuasion!

Wow, this brainwashing technique that Thabo brought up for the negotiations is really beginning to pay off. I must admit that I thought the whole idea that you could affect someone’s mind so much that you could get them to do and say what you wanted. I would not have believed it unless I had heard for myself, but in Mutambara’s recent interview with Geraldine Doogue of Australian Broadcasting Corporation, he sounds just like me!!! Actually old Arthur is showing such great promise that he may one day be a white hating egomaniacal African leader like me! I loved the line claiming he was smarter than all of them because he had gone to Oxford, what hyperbolic rhetoric, my favourite way to avoid the tough questions. I haven’t heard anyone attack the Aussie, Pongs and Yanks with such zeal since, well…… Well I guess the last time I took a bash at them. It really makes one feel all warm inside when one can find a kindred spirit.

It’s too bad we haven’t had as much luck brainwashing that annoying Tsvangirai. I thought we almost had him before his toadies dragged him out of one of our meetings. They must have slapped him around to bring him back to his senses. I am hoping that my threat to swear in parliament will scare those cretins in MDC back to the negotiating table so Thabo and I can get back to brainwashing.


What with installing slabs of dynamite under Moron Tsvangirai’s bed at the negotiations and watching the Olympics, I haven’t had time to write a word in my diary.  Still no deal, but I think that hope lies on the horizon (best place for it, I reckon).  Moron has already signed a declaration accepting mutual responsibility for all the pre-election violence.  Alright, so Thabo and I might have made a few ‘alterations’ to the document Tsvangirai thought he was signing, but the world’s media didn’t comment on the white-out and felt-tip pen insertions on the statement, so I guess that’s it “for the record then”.  Heh heh.

The key question is now over a “Hung Parliament”, which my negotiating partner thinks means “a parliament based upon the results of the March election”… but which actually means “a parliament where all the opposition MPs will very shortly be hung by the neck”.  It’s sooo tricky to understand the legalistic niceties of these negotiations when you’re a simple, uneducated miner… And when someone’s put arsenic in your coffee.

I did make sure that I got to see my good friend Beny Steinmetz while I’m in Johannesburg. He and his people at Ascot diamonds have been so accommodating.  I dropped off a load of uncut stones and he gave me a trunk of cash for the last batch I sent to him.  He was also kind enough to give a few of the cut diamonds that they had for me to give to the missus. That should keep my little blonde bombshell happy for… oh, about 10 minutes.

The Chinese aren’t nearly as reliable.  I instructed my Little Yellow Friends to fix a couple of events on my behalf in the Olympic pool, in order to demonstrate the continuing might of Zimbabwe – the country that makes the American hand tremble and the British bowel leak like a rusty sieve.  And what do they do?  Make a WHITE girl win the 200 metres backstroke for Zim… Damn Kirsty Coventry and damn those take-away-munching, dragon-worshipping Commie wannabies!!  I soon had my revenge when the CIO took out their beloved hurdler Liu Xiang with a well-aimed blow to the hamstring from a heavy gardening tool.  Confucius, he say:  Don’t ever mess up Comrade Bob’s Chinese order again, boys.

August 18 – These Wretched Negotiations

I have been caught up in these wretched negotiations, haven’t had time to write a word in my diary. So much had happened and then again nothing has happened. We still don’t have deal. Almost fooled that moron Tsvangirai to sign a deal that was tantamount to his death warrant (I hate it when one of my cunning plans doesn’t come together!).  Thabo is still trying to bully them into signing the deal. Especially now that he is the chairman of SADC he thinks he can railroad them into it. I do have to admit that I am not so sure, Tsvangirai can be stubborn. I was able to trick the idiot into signing a document placing blame on both our parties for the election violence! Tell me that old Bobby-boy doesn’t still have it!!!!

Did make sure that I got to see my good friend Beny Stienmetz while I’m in Johannesburg. He and his people at Ascot diamonds have been so accommodating. I dropped off a load of uncut stones and he gave me a trunk of cash for the last lot I had sent to him. He was also kind enough to give a few of the cut diamonds that they had for me to give to the misses. That should keep the blond bombshell happy for 10 minutes! Well, I need to get back to work; we are going to have one last go down here to see if we can intimidate Tsvangirai into signing the deal.

August 1: I’m no Figurehead!

There has been a lot of speculation about my future role in the new Government of National Unity that is currently being negotiated in Pretoria. My opponents in these negotiations have suggested that I take on a ceremonial role a titular head of the Zimbabwean government. I want to be very adamant about this point, I am not a figurehead, as one of my Zanu-PF officials was quoted as saying; “Mugabe is not going to be the [ceremonial] queen of Zimbabwe,” If I am going to be anything I am going to be the real queen of Zimbabwe! I have had enough of this pretense of hiding in the closet and not being the real me!!! Until now I have succumbed to external pressure, social and cultural mores and I have not been true to myself!!!!

I went and had a chat with Emerson about this whole queen thing. When I told him that I wanted to declare myself the queen of Zimbabwe, he got a really funny look on his face. When he looked at the language I intended to use in my speech, he said unless I plan to say this at a ‘Gay Pride’ rally, I should really revise what I was saying unless I want to declare I am a homosexual. I’m no shirtlifter either!

July 31: Pesky zeroes…

There has been a great deal of speculation in the press as to why we have gone ahead and slashed the zeros from the currency. Much of this speculation has centred around the idea that the business leaders have asked the central bank governor to lop off the numbers. There have been statements claiming business leaders asked Gideon to remove nine zeroes from the currency, which would mean a 100 billion dollar note – Zimbabwe’s largest note – would become $100. These banking leaders were meant to have argued that the country’s payment system could not handle figures above a $1 trillion, therefore the need to cut the zeroes.

I was even led to believe that this was the truth of the matter by none other than Gideon himself when we discussed the currency at the recent meeting. I even signed off the idea of striking off the zeros and figured that was the end of the story. Or at least that was until I received a message from Gideon sent me mock up of the new money.


It turns out that Gideon’s little toadstool of a nephew is moron and couldn’t reformat the money to add the zeros, so this is what we are stuck with.