If you hadn’t heard, Joseph Chinotimba was on SW Radio Africa. Bra Eddie told me about it, but I wasn’t paying attention until I checked the last Standard and saw the excerpts below. This guy’s a real funny man, but he’s actually serious. What has happened to our country, where people like Chinos wield real power and influence? Disturb your evidence using the 16MB MP3 file after the jump.

JC: Haina kurashika asi yakabiva. (It did not get lost; it was stolen.) If you say I lost it, it means that I didn’t know where. It was stolen. Bvunza wechiti wakabirwa here. (You should ask whether it was stolen.)

VG: So makabirwa nani? Can you tell us what happened?

JC: Very good. Ndiri kuda kuti ubvunze mubvunzo iweyo kuna Minister wangu — kuna Mahlangu. (You should put that question to my minister, to Mahlangu.) I don’t have a comment because if I comment, I’m comment against my Minister who will guide me in the Parliament. So I cannot have a comment just right now before the court are settled. I’m waiting for the court to settle the matter, then I’ll comment after that. If you want to ask you better asked Mr Mahlangu who is my Minister and I cannot comment anything till the court is settled.

VG: Now I did ask Mr Mahlangu’s lawyer and he said his PA had picked your phone which had been dropped, why do you think your phone was actually stolen?

JC: Right now I don’t know whether it was dropped and it was stolen and I’m only going to know what happened exactly in the court and right now I cannot empree (pre-empt) talk anything till the court is paralysed and I cannot disturb my evidence in any way, in any type of talking. So I’m waiting for the court so the court will decide whether the minister had picked up or whether he had been stolen it or not. So I cannot comment.

VG: OK. I hear you have served the deputy minister with summons and you want 19.5 million US dollars, you are suing for 19.5 ….

JC: You better ask him. If he is the one who told you that Mr Chinotimba is claiming for 19.5 million, he’s the one who knows that and how can I say something which is not in my heart? You better ask him. Asked Mr Mahlangu and tell him why is Mr Chinotimba’s claiming that. I cannot comment.

VG: Are you saying you haven’t filed a civil suit?

JC: You better ask Mr Mahlangu, not me!

VG: I did speak to Mr Mahlangu’s lawyer and he confirmed that you are suing for $19.5 million so that’s why I’m asking you, why?

JC: If he is the one who says so what do you want me to say?
VG: Is it a lie?

JC: Maybe. You better ask him.

VG: But I’m asking you because you’re the one who’s suing.
JC: Why, why do you want to ask me? Why don’t you want to ask the person who is being sued? Why do you want to ask me?

VG: What sort of business are you doing that’s worth 19.5 million US dollars?

JC: I don’t have any business, I’m a farmer, where I take some land from your British people, I’m a farmer! I’m a farmer!

VG: Is this one of the farms that you grabbed?

JC: I’m a farmer! I am a farmer! What kind of business which I can do in Zimbabwe unless only to farm? Where the British people were there, eating, enjoying their life, a good life in our land.

VG: What are you farming?

JC: I’m farming people!

I get annoyed quite easily, as some of you well know. Degrees of pissedoffness vary, and some of the shit is quite petty but I don’t care.

Take, for instance, Fridays. Getting dressed in the morning, I usually make sure to throw on a collared shirt cos, you know it’s Friday. Joy day. And you don’t wanna limit your options cos some places have a dress code.

Some places being Symphony.

Now, you might say why bovver, don’t bovver, go elsewhere. You haven’t been to Symphony on a Friday night lately. There aren’t many weeds in that garden. DJ Dean will be spinning heavy soul jams. My mates will be there.

But, and there is a but (and you know how I love buts) last week I got quite pissed cos I was sitting out close to the entrance, and could see all the pretty flowers when they came in (including my lovely fiancee).

There I was in my collared shirt and formal shoes, and couldn’t help notice the occasional sneakers here, t-shirt there, and it got me thinking.

Fuck this shit. What, you know the bouncer? The owner? What the hell? Once you see a place compromise on dress code, it’s going to shit, and I’ll say that to anyone’s face thank you very much.

Another thing … ladies were getting in there wearing the dodgiest shit, not least a crew who came in wearing (velvet) track-suits and sneakers. I mean, really? Really? Women don’t have a dress code? So what if she has a booty, don’t you know how ridiculous that looks in a place pretending to be upmarket?

Anyway, so this morning I said fuck it, I’m not going there, I’ll do Stars or Judgement Yard or just get pissed or something. I’ll wear what I damn well want damn you, you ran out of whisky glasses last week, but you never know cos I have a couple of formal shirts down Her flat, maybe I’ll pop in but it don’t mean I’ve forgiven you.

O v-neck sweater, how I missed you so.

I woke up this morning, smiled with the rising sun.

And felt an instant, paralysing, choking craving for a beer. A nice cold brew, enjoyed slowly in front of a TV showing either rugby or anything with Jessica Alba in it.

So I told Her, and she smiles at me, and I ask her if that makes me an alcoholic, and she mumbles something incoherent in reply. Probably “Oh hells yeah, motherfucker.”

Really though, I haven’t been drinking much beer for the last few months, for two reasons. Firstly, my beer baby has been growing, and this is one of the measures to try and control the paunch. My choice, before you ask.

Secondly, I’m pretty annoyed with beer pricing in Zimbabwe. If a Miller costs $1,20 in the shops, I don’t want any part of it. And with the fucking Keg raising the prices ($2,50 really?) and Symphony being Symphony ($3,00) I generally tend to stray … towards whisky.

Yes, the Famous and Red Label and Grant’s are singing my song, with either a Schweppes or (God forbid) Chele tonic water on the side.

But the way I’m feeling now, struggling against deadline and with tummy grumbling about lunch, I would absolutely murder an ice cold Zambezi Premium Export Lager.

Well, maybe not today’s stomach-churning diarrhoea-inducing hangoverrific Zambezi, but pre-Delta-collapse Zambezi, that smooth sweet flow, that light crisp after-taste … that cheap price.

Am I an alcoholic? Not yet. Do I have appreciate good alcohol?

Hells yeah, motherfucker.

HERE IS A VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE. PASS IT ON TO YOUR FRIENDS….

Please be careful. I don’t know how many of you shop at Fife Ave, especially in OK, but this may be useful to know. I have become a victim of a clever scam while out shopping.

This happened to me and it could happen to you. The victims are always males, so ladies, please pass this information along to your husbands and male friends.

Here’s how the scam works…

Two seriously good-looking 18-year-old girls come over to your car as you are packing your shopping in the trunk. They both start wiping your windshield with a rag and Windolene, with their breasts almost falling out of their skimpy T-shirts.

It is impossible not to look. When you thank them and offer them a tip, they say ‘No’ and instead ask you for a ride to another store. You agree and they get in the back seat. On the way, they start having sex with each other. Then one of them climbs over into the front seat and performs oral sex on you, while the other one steals your wallet.

A good friend also had his wallet stolen last week Tuesday, Wednesday, twice on Thursday, again on Saturday, yesterday, and most likely again tomorrow…

I have been watching Sky News for the last couple of days, and it’s frankly disgusting.

There is a lot of hand-wringing and complaining about British soldiers dying in Afghanistan, and one of the reports I’ve just seen was some lady “journalist” talking to some Afghan fighters.

She asked one guy why he was killing British soldiers. He said he wanted to kill all American and British and foreign soldiers in his country, then she followed up, somewhat incredulously, by asking this guy how he felt if someone wanted to kill his father or brother?

So he asked her, why are Europeans sending their sons to die for America, when America was only interested in money? He simply said, if you’re on my land, I’ll try and kill you, simple.

How can you argue with that? So for all the Brits whining about Afghanistan, the Taliban, whatever … why don’t you pack your shit and leave? Or visit your MP, and ask him to bring your boys home?

Because we all know how this is gonna end, don’t we?