Satiricus was shocked when he read of the attempted heist at Republic Bank. He was shaken to his core by this expansion of the criminal fraternity into the bosom of respectable families – like his! All his life, he’d been taught that if you go to school, study hard, pass your exams and get a job, you were well on your way to climbing the ladder of social success. Jeez! He’d have to look at his kids a little closer now, wouldn’t he? “But wha’ mek yuh suh shack, Sato?”…
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Creolese
Satiricus was pleased. He’d just read that some very educated person named “Came Bridge” – who used to write a fancy column in the Kronic – was part of a project to teach Creolese at UG. This was good news for the country, and he couldn’t wait to get over to the Back Street Bar. The fellas were already ensconced at the back table. They had to have been there for a while, since the table was already forested by beer empties. “How come you fellas started so early?” he…
Read MoreBaigan seeds
Satiricus didn’t mind the rain. While he remembered his old primary school rhyme on the hurricane season claimed “June – too soon”, he wasn’t surprised Guyana was getting a drenching from Bret. The fellas had a fall-back plan which never failed them – to retire into the maws of the Back Street Bar. So that’s where they were, recovering from their enforced Father’s Day sabbatical! “Suh wha’ guh aan wid yuh guv’ment, Sato?” Bungi said as he leaned over the table to he heard over the rain on the roof.…
Read MoreGeCome or GeGone?
Dear Diary, Dis is High-in-the-Field, and I tell you, dear diary, I enjoying dis questioning. I just came back from dis PacMan Committee who checkin’ out how we spend de money we get at GeCome. Like dey forget I is an ole army officer and was trained to not break down under interrogation! I also train in misdirection, since dat is a basic military manoeuvre. Remember when de Auditor Marshall tell me to explain how come we buy $100M worth of radio equipment – but never used them? Well, how…
Read MoreShafted again…
…on oil royalties So, finally, we have some details on how we’re to be raped in regard to the oil revenues from ExxonMobil through the ineptitude of Raphael Trotman, who snagged the Natural Resources’ portfolio only because of the “Nassau Accord”. From the word go, your Eyewitness has been emphasising that the only way Guyana would get its fair share of the oil that’ll be pumped out and gone forever is to begin with ROYALTIES. Royalties come off the TOP; that is, as a percentage of the total revenues garnered…
Read MoreBusiness sense
Dear Diary, This is Gas Skin. No…no…no! NOT Ram Own Gas Skin. Please, Dear Diary, don’t keep confusing me with that loudmouth. I am the quiet Gas Skin. I just came back from England trying to drum up some foreign Guyanese to invest back home. It was not as exciting as I thought it would have been. I didn’t get to see the Queen – even though I did see the Guards in their snazzy Red Costumes guarding Buckingham Palace. I didn’t bother to bring up with the Guyanese they…
Read MoreBusiness sense
Dear Diary, This is Gas Skin. No…no…no! NOT Ram Own Gas Skin. Please, Dear Diary, don’t keep confusing me with that loudmouth. I am the quiet Gas Skin. I just came back from England trying to drum up some foreign Guyanese to invest back home. It was not as exciting as I thought it would have been. I didn’t get to see the Queen – even though I did see the Guards in their snazzy Red Costumes guarding Buckingham Palace. I didn’t bother to bring up with the Guyanese they…
Read More“Extractive Sector”
Dear Diary, This is Trotty again. I know I only wrote to you this morning but this job to run the “Extractive Sector” is very stressful. It’s almost as stressful as dealing with Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat. I thought when I rigged the Vreed-en-Hoop election and dumped those two losers, I’d be on easy street. They were whining all the time because they thought they’d be given some real power!! Little did they know the Nassau Accord trumped the Coming Bug Accord!! It was so much easier when I…
Read MoreArrival of identity
Dear Diary, Ah me, Nagga Man, again. Me feel real good, an’ me na even tek wan drink yet; me guh wait till ten a’clack today. And na beca’se a wan laang weekend me feel good; ah beca’se me come home, Dear Diary. Yes, me come home!! Eva since Rum Jhaat aks me fuh jine up wid Pee-an’-See, me bin t’ink me gat fuh play like me na Indian. But yuh know me a wan real Indian, right, Dear Diary? Ev’ry day me use fuh drink wan half battle Bush…
Read MorePre-nup violated
Satiricus was down in the dumps. He felt like the fella in one of the oldies his dad used to listen to — “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay”. He was a man with a broken heart. As he headed down to the Back Street Bar, he knew he wasn’t going to get much sympathy from the fellas. But then he figured he’d explore why everyone claimed “misery loves company”. “Eh! Eh! How come yuh mout’ suh laang?” Bungi asked the moment Satiricus arrived at the table where he…
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