“TWO POLICEMEN outside want you,” shouted the wife through the bathroom door. “Put on a good shirt in case they take you away. I hope you haven’t had another lorry brush!”
It’s been one of those weeks. A nice email from Jerome Blackman in West Africa who thinks I’m “getting better with age”. Another from Eddie Haynes in Tucson (100 degrees in the shade) whose mother’s licks didn’t make him a “bad” boy . . . . Instead he thinks they moulded him “quite the opposite”.
A phone call from former GG Sir Clifford Husbands nearly went wrong – the wife thought someone was playing her a birthday prank. But he too had lorry problems – one didn’t turn up to transport his canes.
I contacted cane-man Freddie Bovell. “Tell him to use his wang,” he advised. “You mean his influence?” I asked. “I said to use his wang,” he insisted.
This message was duly conveyed to Sir Clifford. “Very well, then,” he thanked me solemnly, “I shall use my wang!”
It hit me later that I didn’t have a clue what a “wang” was. The Internet kindly came up with over 200 synonyms ranging from “thingy” and “Longfellow” to “Krull the Warrior King”.
None of which I would bring up in conversation with a former de facto Head of State. It was therefore with consummate relief that I learned the ex-GG had phoned back to say that his “wang”, or maybe mine, the wife wasn’t sure which, was in fine fettle and had worked like a dream.
The policemen, fine young fellows both, one named “Goodluck”, didn’t arrest me. I get the impression they wanted to meet the lucky writer who is “on top of Veoma” every Friday. Little do they know my true position. I should put it in song someday: “On top of Veoma, just cowering with fright; I could lose my poor Wang-O, from any misplaced bite!”
Actually the Veoma thing has gone even deeper. She claims she now has a “Hoadie doll”, which she may “cuddle up with” instead of sleeping with her cell. This raises questions: does this “Hoadie” get to see her towelling off after a shower? Will it be going to bed nude like its namesake? And, like him, does it vibrate under pressure?
Okay, a quick word here to Peta “Peevey” Alleyne. One of my favourite people, actually. Except, can you imagine being in canoodlement with Peta and she suddenly turns on her big Mia voice? Oops, instant deflation.
Peta, Doug and Cassandra were railing against men smelling sweaty after a hard day’s work. Well, give me ten sweaty men before one perfumed lady. Often when I give one a lift, I have to drive with my head out the window. Once or twice I’ve even had to trot alongside the pick-up and steer throught the window. Risky business. Until they invent a perfume which smells like my wife’s ham-bone soup, can’t women just smell like human beings?
Next to the Charlie demon thing. As Bishop Rufus has pointed out, you have to replace evil with good. And a friend has come up with the “Froon Challenge”.
You go “Froonie, Froonie, can we play?” Given the legendary taciturnity of our PM, there will be no answer. So you try again until frustrated.
Whereupon the Froon Challenge gives you options. You can join the Opposition for town hall meetings and protest marches. You can walk out of Parliament and call for the Speaker to resign. Put him before the Committee of Privileges.
Or, wait for it, you can jump on a lorry with other eminent people and propose laws for running the country. Assuming, of course, the lorry isn’t required for hauling our former GG’s canes.
In rare cases, however, Froonie Froonie may break his silence like a sleeping lion and roar at you. In which case, pack your bags, my brother, and head for Jamaica. Not forgetting to say, “Froonie, Froonie, can we stop?”
Incidentally, my sister’s grandson Elyot Grant, a maths prodigy in Canada with an IQ over 9000, has quit his PhD course at MIT and developed a successful Internet game called Prismata. I forget how many millions he has made from it. Maybe the Froonie Challenge will be the saviour of Barbados. And it would all come from replacing evil with good!
Richard Hoad is a farmer and social commentator. Email [email protected].
