I was speaking to the Zanu-PF’s Women’s League, oh yes, when the matter of elections came up. It seems only yesterday that I had to put on my baseball cap in the name of democracy, as well as a reward for my female admirers, but it is time to think about going to the polls again, if only to give some of my more athletic followers a bit of exercise.
So, feel free to vote in this poll whichever way you like. No pressure.
UPDATE: Just a few more days to go. Keep those votes coming in. The suspense is killing me. Figuratively.
Well, thank goodness that’s over for another five years. I sometimes wonder why we bother to have general elections at all. As recent events have shown, I cannot be beaten, whereas Morgan Tsvangirai quite obviously can be (unless he’s in the Dutch Embassy, the slippery eel).
But elections, like the act of love, are matters in which champions must continually prove themselves. My top tip for both is that if things don’t go well the first time, you can make a more concerted effort after a hiatus of your own choosing.
Anyhow, I was delighted to have received the highest of plaudits from the Iranian foreign ministry recently – on the election result rather than my lovemaking, I should add. I have no doubt that Mohammad Ali Hosseini would be impressed by the latter as well, but of course he would have to hang himself, as homosexuality is illegal in Iran as it is here. I am, of course, not gay, unlike many so-called Western leaders, who definitely are.
You may have read in the newspapers that something is rotten in the Kentish orchard that is my engagement to Kelly Brook. Without confirming or denying whether I’ve been ditched by the former presenter of so-called Celebrity so-called Love Island, I would nonetheless be grateful for your guidance on how to cope with rejection.
His Excellency President Robert Mugabe KCB replies:
Of course, I have never been rejected by anyone, but instinct alone tells me that the most sensible course of action is to pay no attention to those who wish you ill and carry on as before. If rumours persist that a loved one desires to spurn you, a zero-tolerance approach is called for. Assert yourself emotionally and – what the hell – physically with the object of your affection and anyone who dares to support her. You may also invite her to examine the situation from your point of view, and with luck she will see that you were right all along. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a country to run.
Small talk is no small thing. I won’t go into great detail, but I will say this:
Never go out with a girl who asks how you are twice in succession, viz
His Excellency President Robert Mugabe KCB: Well, hello there.
Girl: Hi. How are you?
His Excellency President Robert Mugabe KCB: Like a million Zimbabwean dollars (£3), baby. How about you?
Girl: Oh, fine. How are you?
Alarm bells ought to be going off in your head at this point. Or, if you run a police state, in your local constabulary. I mean, was she even listening? In the bad old days I would administer a beating, but I am a new man now. I have taken out my anger by instituting radical economic measures in the form of price controls. Ah, sweet release.
Women think that men find saying “I love you” difficult. We do not. It is easy to say if it is true. Quite apart from the joy of saying it, there are rewards, both instantly and in the medium term. Like currency adjustment or land reform, it only becomes a burden in the long run.
Saying “I don’t love you” is the difficult one. How do you do it, I am often asked. Love is like an International Monetary Fund loan, I say. The IMF hates rejection and will moan to the world about what a heel you are, but you’ll be glad to be shot of it in the long term. It (or she) will no longer solicit avowals from you, and you will be freed from the guilt of making empty promises in the future.
I lose count of the number of times people have said to me: “Robert, you are a successful democratically elected president, but you also appear to have an active love life. How do you do it?”
It’s all about understanding women, I say. And land reform. But mainly women.
“Could you be more specific?” they always ask.
Well, I say, the land was stolen from us by these white Rhodesians and now we must take back what belongs to us.
“We really meant the understanding women part,” they say.
I usually send for the secret police at this point, but their question is valid. Who am I to deprive my people of my knowledge of love and love-making? After all, I am not gay, unlike the gay government of the gay United gay Kingdom.
I shall be publishing with non-gay abandon soon, but if you would like any requests, don’t hesitate to ask.