Rum Jhaat Diaries

Satiricus had experienced the pangs of withdrawal symptoms. No, Satiricus hadn’t stopped bending his elbow and imbibing his ‘waters’.
He had solid medical advice that some alcohol taken daily was good for his heart. Satiricus was fond of his heart so he followed the advice religiously: “the boys” supported his regimen. Satiricus had missed the diaries his wife’s niece, maid to the opposition (wasn’t politics rewarding?!) used to filch for his perusal. After some excerpts had been published, the finks had gotten watchful. But on Saturday, they were all out, cavorting and gyrating and ‘backballing’ for Mash.
Satiricus eagerly opened the Rum Jhaat’s diaries.
Dear Diary,
What a rat! What a traitor! I always knew TratMan was ambitious but I never think he would sink so low. Why! He even sink lower than me. Who de arse he think he is? Mahatma Gandhi? He want people to think so, but I know him like tea. They say I like me drinks… well I plead guilty. I from Berbice and I like me daroo. But TratMan does drink more than me. But he sly – he does drink in private. Gandhi never drink.
He must been drunk when he decide to let Rodee speak in Parliament. Like he didn’t read what LinkKan Lois write? (Well, I know somebody close to LinkKan does write for he, but that is another story.) Who made him Speaker? Who de hell put he there? Is we, that’s the hell who. He is we blasted “creature” – like his old boss Hyte used to say.
(My blood was boiling, Dear Diary, so I had to tek a drink. Okay, I lied: was three drinks. How you know?)
I betray me old friend Naga Man, who I promise de position – just so he could be Speaker. And now look what he did to me. Look how his assistant Deli Baker did de right thing de last time when TratMan was making speeches in Linden. She know which side her bread buttered. Now a whole year work gone down de trench. You know how hard it was, Dear Diary, to build trust with NAPNU?
It ain’t easy. You don’t know what torture is until you’re forced to hear Roop Na Rain carry on about every subject under the sun. The man doan stop. The CIA should use him rather than this ‘waterboarding’ I keep hearing about.
(My hand was shaking after thinking what Roop Na Rain will say. I had to take some shots.) But I wonder if TratMan find out that I agree to make him Speaker because I wanted him to be out of the way. Was me and he rotating de KFC leadership. With him out de party, is no more rotating. Maybe he find out and he taking revenge.
But later Dear Diary, I gone to Mash in me duty-free SUV. Is plenty daroo gon flow. TratMan better not be on the road!!