Chapter 2: Kakocracy
I froze your tears and made a dagger
and stabbed it in my cock forever.
It stays there like Excalibur.
Are you my Arthur? Say you are.
Take this cool dark steeled blade,
steal it, sheathe it in your lake.
I’d drown with you to be together.
Must you breathe? ‘Cause I need heaven
David Brent, played by Ricky Gervais, The Office (UK), 2001
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Stunning revelation at opening @FT Africa summit: President Cyril Ramaphosa tells me “as much as R 1 trillion” could have been stolen as a result of state capture and corruption in Zuma years.R500bn almost certainly too low. Wow*
Lionel Barber, former editor of the Financial Times, October 14, 2019
The story of South African state capture, as it occurred between the years 2009 to 2017, is one of lust, dreams, bitterness and hysterical disaster. It is a story of dynasties and peasants, of how one or two peasants dreamed of creating a dynasty. It is a story of a past that looked to a future, the old world of Kwa-Zulu Natal’s rolling green hills and valleys juxtaposed with new world of Dubai, all steel and glass and Arab influencers showing off obscene wristwatches whilst climbing into Lamborghinis to music last heard during ISIS beheading videos. It is a story of few heroes but many cowards - but if you think that state capture was responsible for sucking all the hope and goodwill from the land, you have not paid close enough attention.
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I met Peter Hain in 2018, in a grand old mariner’s building on The Strand where he shared a stage with Tony Leon, the former leader of South Africa’s Democratic Alliance, and a man called Baron Risby. Baron Risby is a Conservative peer but before he was Baron Risby, he was Richard Spring who had attended Rondebosch Boys High School. Back in 1995, Richard Spring was caught in threesome with a teacher and her pensions manager boyfriend. A threesome was - is - a very Conservative-y thing to be caught doing - with the one exception here being that a woman was involved. It transpired that poor old Richard was thrown under a bus by The News of the World - edited at the time by Piers Morgan - who paid the woman £61,000 in today’s money for the story.
Peter was there to discuss South Africa, Jacob Zuma, the Guptas and the country’s future. He spoke fondly of the late Jackson Mthembu, felled by coof two years later in 2020, and threw his support behind Cyril Ramaphosa, confident that prosecutions would be pummelled against parties convicted of bribing or cajoling - or just plain stealing from - the state. He was also hawking his book - “Mandela: His Essential Life” - which was exactly like his previous book: “Mandela”, just shorter, and with one new sentence added at the end: “I wish he was still here to help us with climate change”. By the way Peter spoke in Parliament on the day Madiba died in December 2013, I was surprised not to see “Mandela: Nobody Else Was as Greater Friend to Him than I” and “Mandela: The Night I Thought About Helping my Best Friend Swim From Robben Island to Cape Town” being sold there too. Anyways, the newest one was already four or five years old and composed ostensibly to suit the diminishing attention scope of the TikTok zoomer. It was still 232 pages.
Two strange things happened after Peter had spoken. Another Peter got up to ask a question: this one was called Peter-Paul Ngewnya, and Peter-Paul had been in trouble earlier in the year for calling the Chairman of the South African bank Investec, Fana Titi, a “QwaQwa…(k-word)”. Peter-Paul is black, Fana is black, but it was a court presided over by a white judge that tried to determine whether Peter-Paul’s use of the k-word amounted to hate speech. Basically it was a patent infringement issue, a South African intertribal one. Had Peter-Paul been white, he would have probably been paroled just before coof.
As Peter Hain was answering Peter-Paul, I suddenly remembered something else: Peter Hain was not just a Lord with an enduring interest in South Africa. He had also been drawn into the employ of one Zunaid Moti.
Zunaid isn’t a Gupta but he is controversial, frequently in the news for a string of incidents ranging from the alleged illegal transfer of city-owned land in Johannesburg, to failing to honor a deposit on a development (hardly criminal or newsworthy by Johannesburg’s standards), to an alleged bust-up with a Russian gangster over a pink diamond (that’s more like it). He was not the greatest landlord: a story doing the rounds involved a property he owned that was falling apart. The tenant, increasingly frustrated by Zunaid’s lack of interest in leaking pipes, eventually got hold of him and addressed him assertively over the phone - which, after renting the house in the first place, was his second mistake. The next thing Zunaid arrived, rolling five deep as the tale goes, and proceeded inside whilst four heavies in sunglasses cased out the joint. In the dining room, before he sat down, Zunaid took out a handgun and placed it on the table: “Now,” he was reported to have said cheerfully, “what exactly is the problem again?”
If Zunaid was flamboyant in South Africa by way of cars and shirts encrusted with jewels - and he was - he was allegedly more so on his holidays in Europe, where he once took a particularly thick ex-Miss South Africa skiing before tiring of her. Disembarking off his private jet (which he used to park at Stansted in London), he is said to have dismissed the woman with a fur coat and a Rolex. Personally, I think that’s something to be admired, but anyway.
In 2018, Robert Mugabe was toppled from within by his deputy Emmerson Mnangagwa in collaboration with the then army chief Constantino Chiwenga. For a fleeting moment Mnangagwa made all the right noises - including welcoming white farmers to return, but things turned vintage ZANU-PF real quick, justifying suspicions that the “Crocodile” - worth a reported $500m in 2021 - was just as diseased as his predecessor. Zunaid had managed to ingratiate himself with the “new” administration through a company called African Chrome Fields (he claims to have started investing in Zimbabwe in 2014) and now, seeking to launder his controversial past, Zunaid sought to bring Peter Hain into the fold, to try soak up some unfortunate stains upon his reputation. Into this scheme he had also seconded one of South Africa’s most illustrious corruption critics, a dual citizen called Paul O’Sullivan, who had reportedly given Zunaid’s companies a clean bill of health.
As Peter spoke that evening, and as I started remembering more, a potentially ridiculous situation emerged: Peter was - apparently - now willing to game a model he claimed to despise, for which he had earned a reputation as being a corruption buster against the Guptas and all their extensions, both in SA and the UK. Here was a man who had earned much admiration for bringing the Guptas to prominence in the UK chiefly by South African media who frequently applauded his statements in the House of Lords. He had also narrowed in on some of the financial institutions in the UK whom he accused of involvement, sometimes complicity. In particular, he went hard against the company Bell Pottinger.
What ultimately undid the Guptas state capture project wasn’t anything we did, or the fact they were finally understood (even today, many South Africans are convinced on one of two points: one suggests they were industrialists, whose methods were identical to those of the Oppenheimer or Rupert empires, and it was blatant racism that led to their demise. The other suggests they were just crooks. The latter is more accurate but it still doesn’t acknowledge the methodology accurately: the Guptas were professional money-launderers, working in the top-ish half of a chain belonging to some very bad people, whose names we will likely never know - many of whom based on the sub-continent or in UAE. But more importantly, the Guptas were never the “bosses”). Through a profile involved in South Africa’s infamous arms deal, Fana Hlongwane, the Guptas were introduced to a man called Chris Geoghegan, formerly a board member of BAE Systems reported to be central to that arms deal, but whose participation was never fully scrutinised as Jacob Zuma nixed any investigation into it (and was subsequently afforded a State Visit to the UK as a gesture of appreciation in 2010). Geoghegan then introduced to the Guptas to the scumbag London PR firm via his daughter Victoria, employed as an account manager at Bell Pottinger and together - the Guptas, Victoria and the senior strategy team at Bell Pottinger - came up with what they considered a cunning plan to wash the reputation of Guptas so they could continue laundering cash for their bosses unimpeded by scrutiny: a race war.
The bet went roughly: pay idiots like Jimmy Manyi to create distractions, then pursue those distractions with a series of partial truths or complete falsehoods, then mainstream them - and sit back and watch. That only a handful of people - literally - got riled up enough to support the Guptas must have been disappointing and it was this ludicrous ambition that saw them flee to Dubai at midnight via private jet, cash ’n carry bags bursting with South African rands.
Likewise Bell Pottinger didn’t fold because of Peter Hain. In trying to ignite their race war, Victoria and her fellow degenerates picked a fight with someone they assumed would surrender, or disappear - because he was white and wealthy and because the campaign of “white monopology capital” specifically targeted wealthy whites. How they thought this possible I do not know, but I had known even before that Bell Pottinger was actually a pretty mad company, whose puzzling spectrum of clients - ranging from a little orchestra to a man who had allegedly killed 5 people on a mountain in Russia - indicated frenzied corporate grasping that would have flown a plane into an orphanage if the price was right. Of all the wild things Bell Pottinger ever did, provoking a man called Johann Rupert was easily the stupidest.
Rupert, at once terrifying and highly entertaining, is regarded by most sensible people as one of the greatest South Africans ever. Few men have doubled the empires they inherited; hardly anyone has tripled, quadrupled them. There is not an inch of South Africa he has not touched through his support of arts, fashion, conservation and sport. At one point he was South Africa’s largest tax payer, footing an annual bill of R7b - and at another point, one of his many companies was a Bell Pottinger account. At exactly the same time the Guptas became their client. When this mad idea started springing a few leaks, Lord Tim Bell, whom Rupert knew, claimed ignorance (despite him traveling on a private jet with the Guptas), left the scene of the crime and heaped the blame upon James Henderson, Bell Pottinger’s slippery former CEO. Rupert has had documented experiences with British wide boys before, but even he must have been flabberghast at the nerve of Bell Pottinger’s war room. As we are led to understand, Rupert entered the fray, spoke to his friends - some of whom were also clients of Bell Pottinger - and the next thing creditors lined the bloody streets of Holborn trying to identify the disgraced PR agency by its dental records.
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Peter Hain was born in Pretoria; second only to his friendship with Madiba, the thing Peter likes most about himself is his opposition to apartheid. He was famously captured being hauled off rugby pitches hosting the South African national team, the Springboks and was instrumental in the aerial flower-bombing the team was subjected to in New Zealand in 1981. A distant third thing he boasts about is how he antagonised Afrikaners - and here he has a point: he wanted to be hated by white South Africans, the majority of whom he considered racist - and it worked. They hated him. They hated him because he interrupted their national sport, which they considered a feature of identity, and they hated him because his behaviour boasted the potential to result in existential chaos. Now, someone of such virtue would never be mired in scandal…right?
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In 2008 Peter resigned from his cabinet position as Work and Pensions Secretary due to an investigation launched by police into undeclared campaign funds, which is a criminal offence. Here’s how the Guardian covered the incident on the 24th of January 2008:
Hain spent more than £180,000 on his unsuccessful campaign for Labour’s deputy leadership. This was more than any of the other candidates, although the spending - which included a full-page newspaper advert - did not prevent him coming fifth out of the six candidates. Candidates have to declare donations to the Electoral Commission and the register of members’ interests. Hain declared around £80,000 at the time of the contest but the rest of the money - which was raised to pay off his debts at the end of the contest - was not declared
So what, you say, what’s the big issue? That he didn’t declare £100,000 - half of which came from a mysterious “Progressive Policies Fund”? Well in England they are supposed to take this kind of thing seriously, and indeed, the Parliamentary Privileges and Standards Committee articulated as much: “We agree with the Commissioner that Mr Hain’s failure to register donations on this scale is both serious and substantial” it concluded in a report.
Guido Fawkes (real name: Paul Staines), the parliamentary blogger, broke the story - and described the “Progressive Policies Fund” as a slush fund. “It had done nothing, had undertaken no known political activity, had no employees, no policies and there was no forum or indeed any meeting ever,” Guido remarked. At his departure, Peter did two extremely Sutenbastud things: firstly, he blamed one of his campaign staffers for the troubles, and secondly, he claimed to be the victim of a campaign orchestrated by “right-wingers”.
The question I had that evening for Peter was: why? Why Zunaid Moti? Why on earth would you now attempt the very thing you have spoken and acted against? For that, in theory, is exactly what it was. Sally Evans, one of South Africa’s finest investigative journalists, documented this for amaBhungane:
Peter Hain, a British peer, made headlines in South Africa when he campaigned against state capture. But Lord Hain does not appear to be applying the same high standards to his own commercial dealings in Zimbabwe, as an examination of his business partners reveals.
Piers Pigou, Southern Africa director for the International Crisis Group weighed in:
Given Lord Hain’s strident promotion of accountability and transparency in relation to the behaviour of British businesses with the controversial Gupta family in South Africa, one would hope to see a similar standard applied to his business associates’ engagement with Zimbabwe’s military and political leadership.
Perhaps he was concerned about money, which is reasonable, considering he only earned £300 a day as a Lord. Perhaps he was kept awake by the prospect of not selling another book on Madiba - or indeed the 8 or 9 new ones he had planned. Whatever his reasoning, he made a quiet exit from the arrangement the early following year. Most people would have done the same had they left a scent for Sally Evans to pursue. And he was smart to have done so - because Zunaid is back in the news again.
In addition to some other things, Zunaid has earned himself a formidable adversary by the name of Frederick “Frikkie” Luztkie, whom he was busy fighting in court in 2023. Word on the streets of Johannesburg has always warned that former cage fighter Frikkie was someone you shouldn’t trifle with - as the disappearance of a truly astonishing piece of work called Ralph Haynes refers.
Ralph Haynes was known as “The Godfather of the West Rand”, the title of an eponymous book by Izak du Plessis. Known to associate with criminal biker gangs and drug smugglers, he lost his left leg in a motorbike accident and wore a mullet. With his bottle-blonde wife Jacky, he reportedly threw cocaine parties at his pseudo-Tuscan mansion near Krugersdorp, seeking vulnerable parties to honeytrap with Jacky inevitably leading to some blackmail or extortion caper. In 2011, Ralph got into Frikkie’s helicopter, flew away and was never seen again. Frikkie claims he took Ralph to a small town in the South African province of Mpumalunga, where he had arranged for a truck for Ralph. The one-legged Ralph, according to Frikkie, then got into the truck and drove off (the same helicopter was then found crashed in Botswana. Frikkie didn’t report the incident - he just covered the thing with mud). Zunaid made an appearance in this story too: it was he who, on Jacky’s urging, traced Ralph’s mobile to the area Frikkie claimed they landed in, which indicates some kind of relationship prior to the one currently airing in a court. Again the question: what the hell did Peter think he was doing?
As for Peter’s work in South Africa toward the end of Jacob Zuma’s reign, another question: what did he actually accomplish? Bell Pottinger’s demise? No, that must be credited to Johann Rupert. Forming the Judicial Commission of Inquiry chaired by Raymond Zondo? Very unlikely, but even if he did prod tangentially, what good has come from it? As of writing, there has been no discernible compensation to South Africans who could benefited from those stolen billions - all the faces implicated are free, further endangering the voluminous reports (which themselves cost R1b to the status of the standard UK Inquiry, where another report is published after the report, followed by another (after seven reports, a decision is finally made: a Commission of Inquiry will be held, following which a report will be published).
Did Peter’s influence result in a complete overhaul of the complex banking industry - some of whose members had housed Gupta-linked accounts? For its grotesque cameo McKinsey got wrapped on the knuckles; in 2021, the management consultancy, who now claims to specialise in DEI coaching too, was fined. Naughty little management consultants, charging so much to fire people. Perhaps Peter’s only real triumph was to secure Bain-whistleblower Athol Williams a meet with the Conservative MP, then Secretary of State for Business, Energy and Industrial Strategy, Jacob Rees Mogg, who subsequently banned Bain (the Steve Ballmer version of McKinsey) from government business for 3 years. Jacob Rees Mogg is not Sutenbastud, but Bain have challenged the decision - and appeals like these are heard in rooms filled with it. Any excitement would be premature.
I’m not sure its fair to accuse Peter of intentionally seeking opportunity, but I do believe he couldn’t resist it when it appeared. In hindsight, if we are to profile the type of international irritant that would have been more useful in the fight against state capture, then I imagine we’d been looking for someone who tweeted with the venom of Donald Trump, who spoke about broken prospects with the Calvinistic fatality of the Scottish tearaway politician George Gallaway, who was impermeable to shrieks of “racist”, and whose record - as it relates to expenses and campaign expenditure - was as unimpeachable as Sian Thomas, Peter’s fellow former Welsh Labour MP. There was a space for rectitude, one that didn’t seek interviews to flog merch, and here, we could have accommodated someone like Nicholas Winton, the former English stockbroker who rescued hundreds of Jewish children from Nazi Germany, to be working thanklessly behind the scenes, governed by a sense of justice that evades the constitution of contemporary politicians.
But how quickly we forget. Hanging over state capture all along were the words of one Smuts Ngonyama, a former Thabo Mbeki apostle, who, when questioned about his involvement in the Elephant consortium that was to purchase South Africa’s nationalised telecommunications service Telkom in 2006, answered glibly: ‘I didn’t get into politics to be poor’. That - the self-righteous entitlement that believes democracy a legitimate, justifiable commercial opportunity for the well-connected - is the powder formula Sutenbastud weaned the ANC off its Marxist breast milk with.
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The story of South African state capture is incomplete without mentioning Britain’s stories of state capture. The routine of former civil servants joining “consultancies” who represent global behemoths is one example. At the end of 2019 - one year after Peter, Tony and Richard’s talk - I sat on a sofa next to a man, also called Simon, who was once the cream of Britain’s diplomats.
Between 2008 and 2015, Sir Simon Fraser was the Permanent Under Secretary for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs. After the civil service, Simon co-founded a consultancy called Flint Global, and before long, Flint Global had an interesting and deep-pocketed client: the Chinese technology giant Huawei. Huawei has long been suspected of links to the Chinese government, so as in the United States, the threat it posed to Britain was eventually declared Redcon 1, or national security level. Can’t have that. In May 2020, Donald Trump slapped Huawei with another sanction, and the ripple extended to the United Kingdom. On the 13th of October 2022, the Department for Culture, Media and Sport issued Huawei an ultimatum: pack up your wires and get out by 2027.
Simon’s boasting of Huawei as a client led certain “right” wing media profiles to sneer that yet another former Mandarin was selling off the country to the highest bidder - in his case, cell phone tower by cell phone tower. Huawei’s plans for Britain - the installation of the 5G network - were breathtaking, leading anyone with entry knowledge of cause and effect that the company was essentially registering citizens for TikTok accounts without bothering to circulate the terms and conditions.
It wasn’t all that surprising: Simon went to Cambridge and claims to be a“left” wing guy (his wife or partner, Shireen, was also at the party, and she was once affiliated with only the Palestinian Liberation Organization), so working for a highly secretive, hugely ambitious organisation with murky connections and endless resources would have been something of an ideological graduation. Simon’s one partner in Flint, also a co-founder, is a man called Ed Richards. What did Ed do before Flint? He was only appointed by Tony Blair to be the broadcasting regulator Ofcom’s CEO in 2006. Ofcom has become exactly what Tony intended it to be: Orwell’s Ministry of Truth, specialising in censoring and punishing any criticism of the Sutenbastud order. Simon’s other partner is Nigel Gardner. Nigel was BBC journalist and a lobbyist. For Russia’s Gazprom.
These arrangements don’t prompt the aggressive defence you’d assume. You could find equivalence in South Africa in the “work” the former (late) Health Minister Manto Tshabalala-Msimang’s son-in-law, Martin Kingston, does with the ANC (Martin’s got heat for the daughters of ANC “freedom fighters” - before Manto’s daughter, it was Oliver Tambo’s). But South Africans were always cautious of Martin, suspecting that he’d played a role in the collapse of the Rand at the end of 2001 - accusations his friend the former Reserve Bank Governor Tito Mboweni aggressively defended him for). In Britain, the crossover of former Diplomats or civil servants and BBC guys and quango jobsworths doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid, which proves that the theory of a revolving door between the private sector and government isn’t so much a door as it is a passage concealed from view, and in that passage you will locate a series of buckets - all marked clearly with a Sharpie - “lube”.
The difference is obvious. Simon Fraser and co, and many others like them, do not arrive at parties in dust-bowl villages in the North West province of South Africa driving white Lamborghinis, filled with young girls wearing skimpy outfits featuring the name of an energy drink on them. Simon and co are not - unlike (South Africa’s most hopeless finance minister ever) Des van Rooyen - “sugar daddies”. There is discretion, manicured language and teams of lawyers from white shoe or magical circle firms endlessly poring over interpretations. And it is incredibly rare to encounter someone in these Tammany Hall arrangements, suspended between commercial opportunity and democratic infraction, that isn’t completely Sutenbastud. That’s the condition for participation.
Which explains why the United Kingdom has ventured beyond. Bored with the idea of shitting so much cash, some of Sutenbastud’s forces in the United Kingdom today specialize in culture capture: leading this campaign is the rights and equality “charity” Stonewall.
As is so often the case, Stonewall was founded on sound principles of equality and justice, back in 1989 - named after New York’s Stonewall riots two decades previously. Among its list of founding members and trustees, you can locate the name Sir Ian McKellen, the famous stage actor who we could say with some degree of certainty probably wasn’t Robert Gabriel Mugabe’s favourite thespian.
For the longest time the “charity” campaigned successfully for equal rights, pay and recognition in the workplace. Fine. I can’t say with absolute conviction, but I’d hazard a guess that most of the citizens of United Kingdom in the 1990s, with the exception of one or two football hooligan firms, had arrived at their senses and accepted the concept - no worries china, be as you are, knock yourselves out - whatever. But its own success, and the fact that evolving acceptance was apparent, wasn’t enough. They felt they needed to do more.
So in 2001, Stonewall introduced a new scheme. It was called “Diversity Champions”. Stonewall would get a body - any kind of body - to pay it a not-exactly-cheap fee, and once the body had paid, Stonewall would penetrate it. And for the privilege of being penetrated, the body could use the Stonewall logo on any of its marketing paraphernalia: “look here, we have been penetrated.”
2001 turned rapidly into 2010. In that year Stonewall was penetrating 600 bodies - ranging from the NHS to the BBC and other media corporations, banks, hardware franchises, pharmacy chains, sporting clubs, the police, supermarkets, trade unions, hotels, movie production houses and a variety of trusts and endowment funds. It’s probably more difficult to find exactly who Stonewall wasn’t inside; perhaps only Jimmy Savile could match the “charity” for endurance.
But things have started falling apart for Stonewall; not only has it prioritised the relatively recent obsession of trans, but its scope has shifted to include climate change, compelled language (pronouns), rainbow laces, freedom of speech - and support for LGTBQ+ Afghans. And as its growth started to plateau in the 2020s (it was still penetrating between 850-900 bodies), it also started picking fights with one group of people you shouldn’t: lesbians.
Thanks in part to criticism from the likes of Allison Bailey, a black lesbian barrister, and Kathleen Stock, a white lesbian philosopher, Stonewall has been ejected from some of the bodies - organisations - who signed up. Of course, these organisations are terrified of the “charity”, but they, fortunately, have the excuse of “well, thanks to Vladimir Putin, prices are up everywhere, damn and blast him, so we’re terribly sorry we just can’t afford” - which Stonewall can’t really dismantle. But for those who remain impaled, life in these organisations who pay thousands of pounds a year in membership fees is getting scarier.
A friend of mine, call him Norbert, is feeling this. A born and bred Londoner in his late 50s, he’s worked for an international bank for over 30 years. He’s done well, not as well as he would have had he stopped drinking and eating so much, all the same - he’s a lovely chap with a shiny red face. But Norbert’s now shitting himself: when the company introduced Stonewall’s schemes he attended and participated because he’s a nice man who wants people to be happy - but now he attends, like so many other professionals in London, because he’s too scared not to. Furthermore, he suspects that Stonewall maneuvered behind the scenes to get the old HR team in the bank sacked, and influenced the appointment of the new one whose Kommissar is - predictably - a landwhale, and cannot sit through a briefing without acknowledging her Irish heritage via some chippy remark. Norbert says he catches the landwhale staring at him sometimes as she’s filling up her recyclable bottle made of old car tyres at the canteen’s soda fountain. She’s watching him, he says, and he’s shitting himself.
Not only is participation in his company’s Stonewall schemes edging toward mandatory, but Stonewall itself appears to be relaxed about losing its origins to cruise down this new path of cancelation and authoritarianism. From being a “charity” campaigning for comfort, recognition and equality, its progressed into a compiler of lists it isn’t shy to share - stuff like, “who attended the talk given by the George Soros employee who is HIV+ and had sex with multiple partners during Pride then discovered he had Monkeypox…but more important…who didn’t?” The sinister creep continues: Norbert has, on three occasions this year been requested to fill out forms that appear to be probing his own views. He is convinced that despite his frequent attendance at things like “ally” workshops and his feigned enthusiasm, he’s soon going to be sent a form asking him whether he’d consider dating a transgender woman. When he says no - he’s married to an adult human female with teenage children - he suspects the landwhale is going to breach his corner office, give him 6 weeks redundancy pay, mention something about the potato famine then tell him to fuck off: “we’re building an inclusive organisation here Norbert.”
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The closest you could probably get to the truth when it came to Peter’s role would be to look at the type of ANC people Peter likes - Cyril Ramaphosa, Thabo Mbeki, et - and the type he doesn’t - Jacob Zuma and Des van Rooyen. Some are princes, the others are peasants, and if the peasants can’t capture like princes do, if they can’t at least front values of inclusivity and ally-ship, or profess a deep love supranational arrangements that only they are entitled to feed at the trough of, well then, indeed - fuck off Norbert, and fuck the rest of us.
*Coming Wednesday 6th December, Chapter 3: The Brothers Miliband