Category: Satiricus

Satiricus was all confused. He and the fellas had visited some friends on Boxing Day at the sugar estate where Bungi and Cappo had worked before it was shut down. Even though Satiricus had read about what was going on with fired sugar workers, he wasn’t prepared for what he actually saw. They were conducting their post-mortem – and post-mortem IT WAS, concluded Satiricus – at the Back Street Bar. “I thought now your friends didn’t have to work, they’d be enjoying themselves for the holidays,” said Satiricus in a…

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Satiricus was looking forward to the Old Year’s Night gyaff. All year round, he’d taken a lot of stick from his friends at the Back Street Bar for his KFC party’s role in the Government. But now that the Oil contract had been released, he felt vindicated. It would be HIS turn to crow about what his party had delivered! “Well, even though he is a Moses, ‘Nagga Man’ didn’t need to split the waters and deliver us to the Promised Land!” said Satiricus. “Trot Man did it this time!!”…

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Satiricus was on a high, and he hadn’t even imbibed anything at the Back Street Bar which he’d just entered! It was the season to be jolly, and he was in a “Ho! Ho! Ho!” mood as he meandered his way to where his buddies had already stationed themselves. “Can you believe our good luck this year?” he asked excitedly as he took his seat and simultaneously signalled the waitress for a beer. “Wha’ good luck?” asked Bungi in a surly tone. “All me cane-cuttah fr’en dem get fyaah!” “Is…

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Satiricus was quite stirred by Prezzie’s first press conference in two years. But he was most intrigued by Prezzie’s answer to the question as to how he, Prezzie, would deal with the temptations of huge oil revenues corrupting his people. Prezzie replied, “God couldn’t confirm that His people wouldn’t be compromised by adultery. He gave Ten Commandments, and people are still compromised.” As Satiicus wondered why Prezzie connected stealing money with “adultery”, he fell asleep and dreamt Prezzie answering the question in his Diary. Dear Diary, Most people think with…

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Satiricus, as usual, when not at the Back Street in his leisure time, was in his hammock. And just as usual, fell asleep. This time as soon as he’d read his KFC party was going to write a letter to the Pee-an-See to renegotiate their Valentine Pre-Nuptial agreement, he’d wondered what his leader Nagga Man would write and suddenly here he was, reading the letter!! Dear Boss Man, As you know, next Feb 13, will be three years since we agreed to get hitched up on Valentine’s Day 2015 and…

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Satiricus had a very rough week. A scandal a week from the Government benches he could handle, but a scandal a day? Jeez! Even though he was growing ticked off with his leaders Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat, the fellas were going to tear him to pieces at the Back Street Bar! He wasn’t disappointed. “Hey, Sato!! How de Chatree doin’ today, bai?” said Bungi effusively as he spied Satiricus heading to the table. “Ok…OK; could I have a beer first, at least?” replied Satiricus as he deftly slid into…

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Satiricus was ecstatic. And why not? After months of taking a pounding from his buddies — good natured or otherwise — it was his turn to crow! His leader Rum Jhaat had deftly turned the tables on all those who’d thought the criticisms from within the KFC party meant he was in trouble. “The essence of democracy is to allow free debate among the rank and file!” Satiricus suddenly announced to his buddies, who’d been focusing on the cricket on the big screen at the Back Street Bar. “Wha’ yuh…

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Satiricus was swinging in his hammock drowsily as he read the letter from Hammerhead Green excoriating the PPCEE on their behaviour in Parliament. After the first line, as he fell asleep, the letter turned into a diary entry. Dear Diary, Human history is replete with examples where the behaviour of persons in leadership positions can influence those around them………. And I must confess, Dear Diary, I was once placed in a position of leadership, and did my best to influence those around me. I don’t like to boast, but I…

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Satiricus was brooding. The last time he had barely dodged the bullet at the Back Street Bar about Prezzie’s speech in America, where the man swore on his heart (and hope to die!) that he was always a real die-hard Burnt Hamite. Satiricus didn’t care much for Prezzie’s beliefs…but feared he’d have to explain why his leaders, Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat, still hadn’t spoken out. “Sato, leh me aks yuh somet’ing,” began Bungi, before Satiricus could even start on his beer. “Burnt Ham people na bin gi’e Nagga Man…

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Satiricus and the fellas had been parked in the Back Street Bar for a while. Meaning their tongues had been well-lubricated. They’d exhausted their usual political stuff and since religion was off limits by common consent (and bitter experience!) the gyaff turned to the explosion in sexual harassment in the US. “So Cappo, what’s really going on with all this sexual harassment in the US, man?” asked Satiricus, as he signalled for another beer. “How me guh know?” demanded Cappo. “Well…yuh jus’ come back fram deh!” pointed out his pal…

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