Cry the beloved continent

AN interesting gathering took place in Mokhotlong this week.

The meeting was converged to discuss matters of the heart and encourage people to stick to one partner and fight “the disease.”

Judging by the subject under review it looks like we are a fornicating society.

We seem to be bent on seeking that extra thrill outside wedlock.

There are no easy answers why people engage in extra-marital affairs.

But from the look of it we “aren’t getting no satisfaction” between the sheets within the walls of our bedrooms.

This is why I had a big chuckle this week after I read that news dispatch from our local news agency.

 “The community surrounding Mokhotlong town have been equipped with skills to avoid extra-marital affairs,” said the report.

In plain language the term extra-marital affair is a euphemism for fornication.

I am curious to understand what “skills” the report was referring to.

The objective behind holding the meeting was sincere.

It sought to promote marital fidelity and fight that dreaded disease with a small name.

But that was fine until I read the following punch-line.

 “The participants were sensitised on different types of communication that can oil their relationships and other exercises that can improve their sexual performances.”

Some issues are best left unsaid.

This week I bring you good news.

I cried with joy when I heard that one of Lesotho’s most toxic scribes has left the fraternity to join a certain football team.

The heavens have indeed heard our incessant prayers.

Not a day passed without Scrutator praying that journalism be saved from this fellow. I hear the boy has moved to far-away place.

The boy was just careless.

He was an expert on gaffes and a star at rumbling.

Now some team has decided to take this problem from the fraternity so we can only pray that they have the tenacity to withstand an avalanche of boobs.

Although he is gone the fraternity will continue to reel from his damage.

The damage he did will certainly ripple through generations to come.

He certainly knew how to deliver thundering punches on the language called English.

He peed gallons on journalism ethics and basic rules of grammar.

Scrutator is now inviting tenders for the construction of toll gates between Teya-Teyanang and Maseru. 

Interested companies must have the ability to make gates that can detect a poisonous scribe.

Those who can employ police dogs to sniff out dirty copy will have an advantage.

Talking about dirty copy, I had not realised that the shoddiness that a certain weekly has displayed over the past three weeks has also been overflowing into their so-called Free State edition.

“R25 million squanders face music” screamed last week’s headline. What are squanders?

From what planet do they hail?

What sex are they?

When did they stop being squanderers?

These people are busy opening their armpits wide for all to see in the Free State.

Their mediocrity has made us a laughing stock in the Free State.

So next time you cross the border with that number plate with that mokorotlo hat watch out for those farmers who will be laughing at you loud.

They say shame is worse than death.

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