Previously on Verbatim Vs Verbatim: Screaming Lizzie attempted to recruit our hero as the manager of her new music duo. Because our hero didn’t take to the idea, she suggested that he meet her singing partner to see if that would help the case. In this edition, our hero meets a two-foot Mukiga Sean Paul in the middle of the afternoon at that most elegant of locations: Kado Pado Bar and Restaurant in Kireka. And to think there was a nap forgone for this… 

  •  Where is Lizzie and who are you?

  •  Me name me call Rath Evanth Banton. Rude bway dem. I rathta I reprethent all Kireka matthive, an all Bweyoth matthive. Wagwan, Bath.

  •  I understand perfectly.

  •  You thpeak Jamaican pat-wa?

  •  No, I understand that someone finally latched onto the idea of filming a local version of Punk’d, the MTV show where they play practical jokes on people before hidden cameras. Okay, where are the cameras? Who is behind this? Moses Chopper of WBS? It had better not be Ken Love, because I refuse to share a screen with that guy. No way in a million years.

  •  Oh, thigh. Litthie told me to exthpect thith. Bath, you have a problem believing in people. It is a wonder how you got tho far in your career with that attitude. Dude,  thynithithm ith thooo latht thentury.

  •  What is tho- so last century?

  •  Thynithithm. Thynithitm.

  •  You mean like that grating and offensive prejudice I have heard voiced too many times against thin people? Like those people who keep saying Barbara Yata should put on more weight? Look, she may come across as a little bit stilted and even contrived sometimes, but I happen to think she does a great job. And she does not kill mbogos at a rate of four per second, which is more than can be said for the majority of television show hosts in Uganda. With regards to the stiltedness, I give her the benefit of the doubt. No one can interview Bebe Cool and not sound a bit insincere when they call him an “artiste”…

  •  Who ith Barbara Yata?

  •  She is the host of a local TV show called Showtime Magazine. I guess you wouldn’t know who she is because the show comes on at 9:45 pm—after your bedtime. People who can find nothing to criticize in her actual work decide to bitch about her weight. Thinisism, as you call it, is abhorrent.

 Our hero is interrupted here when blog intern Robin Thicke presents a memo. It says I should not spend so much time talking about local personalities—now that he is on the blog, I am attracting google visitors from outside countries, visitors who have never heard of Bebe Cool, Chopper, Ken Love and Yata. The point is noted. 

  • I meant thynithithm. Like thceptithithm. When people think it ith cool to not believe thtuff. It ith what maketh you dith Bebe Cool. I love Bebe Cool. I want to be jutht like him.

  • Then next time you see a lady cop, make sure you call her a reconstituted whore in a loud and clear voice.

 Interrupted again by Thicke coughing meaningfully. Okay, okay. No more local celebs…back to the discussion. 

  • So, Evans, what do you want from me? And also, what is with calling a meeting at Kado Pado so early in the day? The guy who sells grilled pork on a stick hasn’t even arrived yet.

  • I believe my colleague thpoke to you latht time about thith enterprithe she and mythelf have embarked upon.

  • Lizzie said something about forming a pre-teen version of Necessary Noise, I recall. And she wanted me to exploit my connections as a veteran showbiz journalist to serve as manager. I wanted to tell her that I am a wannabe humorist now but then that would take the edge off the next thing I wanted to say.

  • Which wath?

  • I wanted to call the idea a joke and say that I can’t manage a joke. But if I say that all my detractors will leap upon the sentence with glee.

  • Hah hah. Too late! But Bath, if you can take thome conthtructive advithe, you thouhd too hoity-toity in your column, too elititht. You should try to reach the people. Be like Harry Thagara, for exthample.

 At which point the meeting ends, with our hero storming out in indignation, leaving the words “What? Did I thay thomething wrong?” echoing round the empty bar behind him. 

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