MPs have asked for a shit load of money so they can buy cars, the president of the republic would like some jets and the Uganda Shilling is entering beauty contests in an attempt to divert our attention from its shortcomings. There’s no denying it folks, this economy has been shoved into a corner in the nightclub of disrepair and is now being asked to bend over…without making this too colorful, we are screwed.
But then, just because everything suggests that the country would like to friend you like a randy university professor, doesn’t mean you have to take it. You can make the most of this;
High Sugar Prices
Turns out this has far reaching consequences. Why just the other day a lady asked her lover why he wasn’t calling her sugar anymore and earned herself rebuke. Parents have reason to heave a sigh of relief because little Tina’s boyfriend has finally stopped asking her for some sugar. To come out of this unscathed and not appear broke, you will have to develop a nasty case of diabetes. It’s not a good thing and far be it for me to go poking fun at this, but let’s face it, if you plead ‘diabetes’ no one will say you’re not embracing sucrose because you’re broke.
Soaring Fuel Prices
I think that show in NTV that want’s to be HUSTLE when it grows up may have explored this a little. If you’re one to use taxis (because, I suppose, you cannot drool at the fellow passenger’s thighs when you’re using a boda boda or your mum’s car…) what you will have to do is board a taxi, preferably in a staggering fashion, then sit at the back. Way back. Then, when you have found said position of back-ness, pretend to fall asleep.
Every so often you will have to mutter under your breath as you peep to see whether your destination has veered into view. Once it does appear, scream something along the lines of, “Shit, Wrong taxi” and then bitch and moan until the taxi comes to a halt. Ideally, they won’t ask you for all your fare, so you should have saved quite a bit. It works better if you pretend to be drunk, because no one wants to beat up an inebriated chap…except perhaps, a fellow inebriated chap. Failing that; FART.
Escalating Beer Prices
Two words; Happy Hour. The problem with this is that it is not as widespread as we would like it and there are some establishments that consider themselves too good for such a thing, but you know what? You don’t need to go to Mama Deborah’s “We put the FUN in kaFUNda” Kafunda. You can go to all these places littering the city that are trying to lure young ladies over with promises of drinks that bear names with uncanny resemblance to something that would leap out at you from the bowels of the Red Pepper. I think they call them cocktails. Such places have Happy Hours. Go there. Whatever you do, don’t ask for the Baryamureeba Special; One shot and you’re screwed!
Technology, I’m afraid, has not evolved to such levels as in the developed world where you can tap into your neighbour’s elec supply like you’re stealing wi-fi… what you can do, however, is carry a flat iron to work. Work with me. Any employer would be impressed by this level of dedication, in which case you just may get a raise. If, however, your employer is a bastard and doesn’t understand these things, they may send you home… INSTANT DAY OFF=WINNING!