One morning, towards the end of a long and turbulent parliamentary season, the speaker of the South African National Assembly glanced across the African National Congress benches, brimming as usual with enthusiastic democratic faces.
One face, however, was turned downwards and when the speaker snatched up her opera glasses she was shocked to see that this particular ANC MP was actually playing cards. She summoned him to her chambers.
‘You’d better have a very good excuse,” she growled, ‘or I’ll have you up before a parliamentary disciplinary committee before you can say Madikizela-Mandela. The National Assembly is not for playing cards. Members come to the National Assembly either to rewrite democracy or catch up on their sleep. Playing cards brings our natural sense of dignity into disrepute. Now, what do you have to say for yourself?”
‘It’s like this, Madam Speaker,” said the MP humbly. ‘I accidentally ran over my copy of the Constitution with my Pajero and Nigel Bruce borrowed my copy of the Freedom Charter and refuses to give it back. All I have left is my deck of cards. But I wasn’t playing with them, Madam Speaker. I was using them to remind myself of the great things the ANC has brought to our land.
‘You see, Madam Speaker, when I look at the Ace it reminds me that there is only one Mbeki and that His name is Thabo and I remember that the whole of this dignified institution is here in order to further the immense wisdom of His aims.
‘And, Madam Speaker, when I look at the Two, I think of how our legislative structure is split into two parts, the National Assembly and the National Council of Provinces and the Two also reminds me of the number of faces of the average Democratic Alliance member.
‘When I look at the Three I think immediately of the Tripartite Alliance and how it freed us from the terrible bonds of our capitalist-funded racist past and delivered us into the workers’ paradise now so richly enjoyed by labour lawyers.
‘When I look at the Four I think of the four seasons in an ANC politician’s life: In A Cushy Job; In the Mail & Guardian; Out of the Cushy Job and, almost immediately, Back in Another Cushy Job.
‘When I look at the Five I think of Minister Ronnie Kasrils who, although he’s not much more than five feet tall, nonetheless towers in our minds when he throws little bits of Fanagalo into his speeches.
‘When I look at the Six I think of the 600 people dying each day from Aids and of those unholy monsters at the Treatment Action Campaign who are making such an undignified noise about this insignificant carnage.
‘When I look at the Seven I think of the seven colours that make up the rainbow of our beloved nation and also of the R700-million spent on the presidential Boeing so that the Ace may be free to spread his inspiring message of the New Partnership for Africa’s Development to the four corners of Nigeria.
‘When I look at the Eight I think of the cruel eight months that our precious Comrade Winnie will spend in prison as punishment for trying to pour a little gravy over her friends.
‘When I look at the Nine I reflect on the number of months it takes a mother to get to the point of being refused neverapine when she gives birth simply because Mr Giraldo says it’s poisonous.
‘When I look at the Ten I am reminded of the number of New National Party members who crossed the floor to us so as to make their pensions a lot more secure.
‘When I look at the Jack, I think of Marthinus van Schalkwyk for he is truly the last of the great dying jockstrap impersonators.
‘And, Madam Speaker, when I look at the Queen I think only of the four stupendous queens who, without thought of personal gain or glory, give grace to the blessed political intercourse of the Ace: Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, Stella Sicgau, Manto Tshabalala-Msimang and, of course, yourself, Madam Speaker.
‘Lastly, when I look at the King I think of Robert Mugabe because, now that Nelson Mandela has abdicated, Mugabe is the true King of Africa. All other African leaders are his courtiers, worshipping at his feet, obeying his every whim.
‘There’s just a touch more magic to my deck of cards,” said the MP. ‘When I add up all the spots on the cards I find they come to 365, which is exactly the number of hairs left in Alec Irwin’s frontal tuft. There are four suits in the deck, the average number of new silk suits bought every week by Tony Yengeni. Fifty-two cards equal another R52-billion on the arms deal.
‘So, you see Madam Speaker, when I lay out my deck of cards in the National Assembly it serves as my ANC almanac, my party manifesto and my daily democratic guidebook.”
‘Wait a minute,” thundered the Speaker.
‘What about the Joker? Who does the Joker remind you of?”
‘Take your pick,” smiled the MP.
Archive: Previous columns by Robert Kirby