The NoGel Diaries

Satiricus was not a voyeur. But he must say he was enjoying these peeks into the diaries of the politicians who dominated the headlines every day. Some of those headlines he’d written himself. Lilawatee, his wife’s niece (five times removed) hadn’t disappointed him. As the opposition’s maid-on-call, she had total access and for Satiricus, this was better than breaking news. It was certainly a heck of a lot more exciting. Today he was glancing at the last page of Big NoGel’s diary.

Dearest Diary,
Is what I gon tell you Dear Diary? Things haven’t been too good lately after that Hickey fiasco. You remember that Hickey fiasco, don’t you Dear Diary? No! Not that neck biting Hickey thingy! Was when I kept asking that blasted Short Man Police Hickey questions during the inquiry and he kept saying he ‘couldn’t recall’.
He could blasted well recall. He was just playing the fool. Like he forget who I am? I am an almost senior counsel, I would have him know!! I represent some of the big ones he can’t even touch. So I lost my temper, Dear Diary. I ask him if he want to ‘shoot me’. But to tell you the truth, I wanted to shoot him! That would show him who is almost senior counsel.
But tonight I want to tell you more about this politics, Dear Diary. It ain’t easy. The Trot Man gone and leave with these two low life – Ram Jhaat Tan and Naga Man. Try to sit down with those two and you’re drunk without taking a drink: more rum fumes than when you passing Diamond Distilleries!
And the cussing! Whew!! And these people think I will let them be president. Don’t they know who I am? I am almost senior counsel. Like they didn’t hear Kiss Soon call me ‘the new Rodney’. All right Dear Diary, I know I’m twice Rodney size and I went to Saints and not to Queen’s and couldn’t high jump to save my life, and never won a scholarship.
I mean I can talk Rasta even though I never went into the gullies of Kingston. I man dread! I man irie. OK I can sing one-two things from my Reggae CD collection. Old pirates, yes, they rob I; Sold I to the merchant ships, Minutes after they took I; From the bottomless pit. Ram Jhaat is done for: he too drunk to know better.
But like Naga want to sell I back to the bottomless pit. I have my plans and no old man who just pass law school can stop me. But Dear Diary, you got to hear how Naga Man try to cut English!! It’s a wonder he don’t chew up his tongue. But a whole year pass since the last election.
Soon people will forget about the Hickey embarrassment and I will start going back to meetings. I practice some more Rasta talk. If you know your history, Then you would know where you coming from, Then you wouldn’t have to ask me, who the ‘eck do I think I am. I am almost a senior counsel.
Goodnight Dear Diary.