Show Posts
31
Politics / BUDGET SPEECH - MANUEL's DAY
« on: February 21, 2008, 04:04:50 PM »
Trevor ’s Big Day Out
http://www.businessday.co.za/Articles/TarkArticle.aspx?ID=3148642
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
12.14am — Finally got Lesetja off the phone. It’s great he’s so eager but all his moaning about the grammar in my speech is getting me down. I wanted to say “I have done this before, you know” but managed to stop myself.
12.21am — Sudden thought — is this my last budget? That’s what the press keep saying. Do they know something I don’t know? Ag, I’ll think about it later. Although … I do rather like the World Bank; wonder if they got that CV I sent …?
12.43am — Can’t sleep. Bloody Terry Crawford-Browne. That bloody arms deal.
1.34am — Just got kicked out of bed by Maria for tossing and turning too much … I’m heading for the couch; hope the dog will move over.
3.57am — Woke up with a start. Dreamt it was budget day and I’d forgotten to prepare one. Then I thought it must be morning and started cursing Eskom for it being so dark until I realised the light switches were actually working.
3.59am — Speaking of Eskom, I still can’t believe I have to shake up my beautiful budget to save Eskom’s a**. Just the thought of a deficit makes my stomach churn. Bloody Eskom.
6am — Alarm woke me up. As did the dog licking my ear. Must shower.
6.45am — Breakfast with Maria. How come she’s so chirpy? My hands are sweaty and it’s not so easy to eat. Maybe I’ll calm down if I just read the papers.
6.50am — Bloody papers. Now I feel really ill. Half of what they’ve predicted isn’t in the budget. Should it have been? Nah … but will they nail me for leaving out all sorts of issues? Probably. Bloody journalists.
7am — Sweet relief — here comes my car to take me away to the budget lock-up where I get to talk about my favourite things.
7.06am — Drove back to the house — forgot the budget speech.
7.30am — Ha ha — the journalists are looking a bit bedraggled. Probably been up all night drinking. Except for the nerdy ones. The nerdy ones keep flashing their teeth at me and asking complicated questions in the hope that I’ll think they’re clever. Poor sods.
9.32am — Tired. I’m so tired of talking about this damn budget and I haven’t even given the speech yet. I’d go for a walk to clear my head if only the bodyguards would let me out the door.
10.44am — Okay, that’s it. I’m out of here. The nerdy ones look all sad behind their thick spectacles.
11.16am — Just got hold of my budget day gift co-ordinator — you know, the person who has organised the gifts in Parliament like the fruit and the cacti? — and she says they’ve hit a snag and may not be able to deliver today’s surprise gift to the MPs on time. I don’t know what the hell I’m meant to do with that. I can hardly pop down to the closest Woolies and order something stupid like 250 ice-crushers, now can I? Maybe everyone should have just gotten a solar-powered head torch. Or a replica of a little toilet, given the way the markets have been going. Think, Trevor, think.
11.20am — Solved problem by yelling a bit and asking the budget day gift co-ordinator if she knew who I was.
11.45am — Called my Xhosa teacher. I just can’t seem to get my clicks right in the speech this year. It doesn’t help that I’ve got to smile while I click.
12.15pm — Light lunch. Still can’t eat. I really want a whisky but if anyone smells it on my breath there’ll be all sorts of Manto jokes. Bloody Manto.
12.34pm — Maria called. She asked if I’d brushed my hair. What hair? Thinks she’s a comedian on today of all days.
12.56pm — Called Parliament to ask if the back-up generators were in place. Apparently they are, but there’s only enough diesel for 30 minutes. If the lights go out at the beginning, I’m going to have to speed up the speech. Maybe I should get my own head torch. Hmmm.
13.14pm — Set out on foot for my rather heroic-looking entrance into Parliament.
13.16pm — Ran back to the office — forgot the budget speech.
13.33pm — Straightened my tie smugly — it’s a different colour every year so the press can’t use old pictures. Then walked confidently through the cheering crowds. Today, I am The Man. And it feels good.
13.41pm — I was The Man till it hit me that no one was going to like my speech. Except me.
13.55pm — Washed sweaty hands one last time. Must remember to wave them around in there. I have good hands.
14.01pm — Oh lord, here we go.
16.05pm — You know what? I am The Man.
http://www.businessday.co.za/Articles/TarkArticle.aspx?ID=3148642
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
12.14am — Finally got Lesetja off the phone. It’s great he’s so eager but all his moaning about the grammar in my speech is getting me down. I wanted to say “I have done this before, you know” but managed to stop myself.
12.21am — Sudden thought — is this my last budget? That’s what the press keep saying. Do they know something I don’t know? Ag, I’ll think about it later. Although … I do rather like the World Bank; wonder if they got that CV I sent …?
12.43am — Can’t sleep. Bloody Terry Crawford-Browne. That bloody arms deal.
1.34am — Just got kicked out of bed by Maria for tossing and turning too much … I’m heading for the couch; hope the dog will move over.
3.57am — Woke up with a start. Dreamt it was budget day and I’d forgotten to prepare one. Then I thought it must be morning and started cursing Eskom for it being so dark until I realised the light switches were actually working.
3.59am — Speaking of Eskom, I still can’t believe I have to shake up my beautiful budget to save Eskom’s a**. Just the thought of a deficit makes my stomach churn. Bloody Eskom.
6am — Alarm woke me up. As did the dog licking my ear. Must shower.
6.45am — Breakfast with Maria. How come she’s so chirpy? My hands are sweaty and it’s not so easy to eat. Maybe I’ll calm down if I just read the papers.
6.50am — Bloody papers. Now I feel really ill. Half of what they’ve predicted isn’t in the budget. Should it have been? Nah … but will they nail me for leaving out all sorts of issues? Probably. Bloody journalists.
7am — Sweet relief — here comes my car to take me away to the budget lock-up where I get to talk about my favourite things.
7.06am — Drove back to the house — forgot the budget speech.
7.30am — Ha ha — the journalists are looking a bit bedraggled. Probably been up all night drinking. Except for the nerdy ones. The nerdy ones keep flashing their teeth at me and asking complicated questions in the hope that I’ll think they’re clever. Poor sods.
9.32am — Tired. I’m so tired of talking about this damn budget and I haven’t even given the speech yet. I’d go for a walk to clear my head if only the bodyguards would let me out the door.
10.44am — Okay, that’s it. I’m out of here. The nerdy ones look all sad behind their thick spectacles.
11.16am — Just got hold of my budget day gift co-ordinator — you know, the person who has organised the gifts in Parliament like the fruit and the cacti? — and she says they’ve hit a snag and may not be able to deliver today’s surprise gift to the MPs on time. I don’t know what the hell I’m meant to do with that. I can hardly pop down to the closest Woolies and order something stupid like 250 ice-crushers, now can I? Maybe everyone should have just gotten a solar-powered head torch. Or a replica of a little toilet, given the way the markets have been going. Think, Trevor, think.
11.20am — Solved problem by yelling a bit and asking the budget day gift co-ordinator if she knew who I was.
11.45am — Called my Xhosa teacher. I just can’t seem to get my clicks right in the speech this year. It doesn’t help that I’ve got to smile while I click.
12.15pm — Light lunch. Still can’t eat. I really want a whisky but if anyone smells it on my breath there’ll be all sorts of Manto jokes. Bloody Manto.
12.34pm — Maria called. She asked if I’d brushed my hair. What hair? Thinks she’s a comedian on today of all days.
12.56pm — Called Parliament to ask if the back-up generators were in place. Apparently they are, but there’s only enough diesel for 30 minutes. If the lights go out at the beginning, I’m going to have to speed up the speech. Maybe I should get my own head torch. Hmmm.
13.14pm — Set out on foot for my rather heroic-looking entrance into Parliament.
13.16pm — Ran back to the office — forgot the budget speech.
13.33pm — Straightened my tie smugly — it’s a different colour every year so the press can’t use old pictures. Then walked confidently through the cheering crowds. Today, I am The Man. And it feels good.
13.41pm — I was The Man till it hit me that no one was going to like my speech. Except me.
13.55pm — Washed sweaty hands one last time. Must remember to wave them around in there. I have good hands.
14.01pm — Oh lord, here we go.
16.05pm — You know what? I am The Man.
