So the Spur has apologised for the way it handled the racial spat that went as viral as their salad bar does every time someone sneezes over it, vowing to “improve childminding” in their “Play Canyons”. I don’t know which part of their apology nauseated me most – the PC euphemisms or their cringingly patronising “apology”. What I do know is that the thought of ever patronising them again makes me cringe with nausea.
In fact, I haven’t been more nauseated since I heard the stewardess on an SAA flight, greeting passengers in all eleven official languages, before ending off her sickening diatribe with the most nauseating words I’ve ever heard – “Proudly South African”. What made it worse, was that this was shortly after they had renamed Johannesburg International Airport, O.R Tambo International Airport.
Before I could reach for the barf bag in the pouch in front of my seat, my travel partner, not known for his tact when it comes to expressing himself, came to my rescue when he shouted “O.R TAMBO SE MA SE P…”.
I nearly had a seizure – fortunately my seatbelt prevented me from falling out of my seat. Laughing at inappropriate times has always been a problem for me. That’s why I stay away from funerals and church services.
Spur and SAA are just the tip of the floating turd-berg that is “Big Business” in South Africa. Who can forget Engen and Woolworths’ brilliant “no whites” recruitment policies?
I have been scathing on the apathy of my fellow members of the Lost Tribe of South Africa in the past, but now it’s time to put our iconic “Proudly South African” multi-nationals under the spotlight. Their deafening silence has been bugging me for years. Not a murmur, not a word, amidst the tsunami of corruption we have been engulfed in since 1994.
The likes of PRIMEDIA, who own the sickening talk radio stations we have had to endure for decades, pouring out their insidious tripe, trying to put a sober cloak on the drunken havoc being wreaked by the Johnny Blue Label Club that has been looting the country, at will for the past 23 years.
Hey, but what about LEAD-SA some may cry? When I first heard 702 and 567 punting their LEAD-SA initiative, which called for “robust citizenship”, I thought “hello… ”, but that swiftly changed to “hell nooo…”, after I visited their website, vowing to quit drinking and ready to take up the challenge.
What a pile of apathetic, apologetic, ANC butt-kissing pish. Take a look at their list of their great achievements… I’ll save you the time – there are none. Oh, but wait, didn’t they initiate a campaign to make us aware of the importance of driving with our headlights on during the day? It was enough to drive me back to drink.
Which brings me to my next favourite “prrroudly SA” corporate giant – SAB-Miller, who continue to inflict their patronising “Rainbow Nation” advertising, depicting the country as one brimming with pride and camaraderie on us, ad-nauseam.
Give me a Heineken, Amstel, Windhoek or Stella Artois anytime. Give me a Castle and I’ll punch you in the face. I even have trouble restraining myself when I see someone buying that once proud brand, particularly when they’re wearing their Springbok jersey and you know what? I root for any side playing against a side sponsored by them – yes, even the pansy Proteas – even when they play Pakistan and even the Springboks – even when they play Japan.
Apart from Pat Symcox and Hansie Cronje and one or two others, post-94 South African cricketers have riled me no end, along with their bimbo groupies. I once had to ask my favourite restaurant in Cape Town, to relocate me from my regular table, to the smoking section, because I could no longer bear listening to these clones, with their designer shades on their foreheads, inflicting their shallow, bubble-gum advert, babble on me from the table alongside.
It was more nauseating than watching an episode of The Bold and The Beautiful or Isidingo. I swear, if I heard Jacques Kallis’ girlfriend say “Jacquee-poo” one more time, I would have either snapped or shat myself.
The bemused expression on their faces, when I loudly called the owner over and told him that I couldn’t bear the intrusion of their idiotic babbling any longer, was particularly satisfying. They gave me the most aghast fluoride stares I’ve ever seen. I gave them my “go screw yourself” stare, without making much of an effort to conceal my contempt.
Hell, I’m all for patriotism – when there’s something to be patriotic about. When big business grows some balls and backs a tax revolt, and the apathetic café society brigade realise that there’s more to life than updating their status and making a fashion statement, perhaps I’ll change my mind. Until then screw this deluded country – especially the cop-out big business corporates.