I enjoy a good rant

Jul 08, 2013

Andy Murray is a tennis player who cannot rant. The man is tedious, a bore, who makes it look like it is a burden to talk. Watching the post-match press conferences from The all-England tennis championships in Wimbledon, the people from Sky Sports hardly give him space because he is tedious and he

Timothy Bukumunke

Andy Murray is a tennis player who cannot rant. The man is tedious, a bore, who makes it look like it is a burden to talk. Watching the post-match press conferences from The all-England tennis championships in Wimbledon, the people from Sky Sports hardly give him space because he is tedious and he cannot rant.


But I know of people who could, such as Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Fidel Castro, Nikita Khrushchev and Muammar Gadaffi. They were exceptional. They could rant for hours on end and the more they ranted, the more their rants did not make sense.

I am a ranter. I enjoy a good rant. When it comes to ranting, there are certain rules that have to be observed. When I rant, it is usually against traffic policemen, security guards, waiters and waitresses.

I let them decide the rules of the rant — are we going to rant like boxers do at a pre-match press conference? Are we going to be civil and try to keep our voices down? Or is it going to degenerate into finger pointing and rounded off with a melee? I let them decide for I am only too happy to play to any of the rules that they suggest.

The last rant I had was with Kiseka Market Mechanic. I knew I was going to rant because in my books, going to Kiseka Market = a rant. And I should have a beer beforehand but I did not.

No sooner had I parked, than Kiseka Market Mechanic was all over the ride diagnosing problems that the ride did not have. And I had only been there for less than 30 seconds and unleashed four tumbavus. Kiseka Market Mechanic was an irritant. He got under my skin, and the more he did, the more I saw the makings of a good rant taking place.

I ranted. I also kicked a stack of tyres that toppled over, which aggravated the situation because they did not belong to him, but somebody else. At that point, there was no stopping me. I was on the verge of winning the ranting gold medal and just when I thought it was in my grasp, a Police patrol pick-up laden with cops in full riot fatigues showed up and just like that, the rant war was over.

But I had made a point for as I drove off, I heard one of the mechanics tell his friend: “That man has a foul mouth!” And it made me feel good.

But the feel good factor did not last that long for as I checked my mail later during the day, there was a rant from Ernest Bazanye (EB), the chap I usually share this double spread page with.

He was ranting because I copied his writing style. Pause there for a minute because I had not realised you can rant via e-mail. When EB rants, he rants and it was necessary to remove some of the stronger words he used. This is what he said:

“But you other columnists and your swagger jacking. Bad Idea was made with red subheadings to differentiate it from other columns. It was just a different format. When the subs remove the subheads I even throw dung around like a furious monkey. In fact, I even put extra subheads to make sure the sub-editor does not kulemesa my steezo again.”

I am sorry EB, I am really sorry I used your writing style. Please forgive me. I promise it won’t happen again. You were right to rant at me, but can we still be friends?

(Editor’s note: Baz says it is all love and offers a warm hug and says all is forgiven. Until the next battle).

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