Carnivorous Cow

The Cow was rather disappointed in Alice in Wonderland 3D."They could have done so much more with it," she grumbled to Gramsci. "Both the subject matter and the technology begged for it. And instead, they just popped another sausage out of the Disney sausage machine!"

"Indeed," agreed Gramsci. "The casting of that vacant chick as the 19-going-on-12 year old Alice was a case in point. If they were after naive idiocy - as the results would seem to indicate - why didn't they go the whole hog and settle for Julius Malema?"

"Quite!" the Cow concurred. "And of course, there's only one choice for the Mad Hatter - Winnie Mandela!"

"The shril, petulant Red Queen would be a perfect role for Helen Zille," suggested Gramsci, "and the macabre, malevolent Stayne would have to be that dude from the Freedom Front Plus!"

"That insipid goth girl as the white queen was also neither here nor there," sneered the Cow. "She looked like the bride of Dracula. Since he was on the payroll anyway, why didn't they just give the role to Christopher Lee?"

"But that would leave the Jabberwocky role vacant!" observed Gramsci.  "Perhaps they could exhume Betsie Verwoerd, instead?"

"The Bandersnatch must be Jacob Zuma, though" the Cow insisted. "Chasing after young women... and that eyeball, plonked back in at any old angle! There's a distinct resemblance..."

"Plus then uJuJu would get to ride off into battle on the back of uMalume - that does seem rather fitting!" Gramsci mused.

"Is Julius Malema the secret love child of Jacob Zuma and Winnie Mandela?" Bronstein asked the Cow.

"Not as far as has been acknowledged in the media," the Cow shrugged, "though between the father of the nation and the mugger of the nation, anything's possible!"

"Just wondered," Bronstein sighed. "He's got all the strategic ineptitude of uZami, and all the fatuous charisma of uMalume.  Either that, or he just hatched under the stupid bush."

"Perhaps," the Cow conceded. "But he hasn't imploded yet... He's appealing the hate speech verdict."

Bronstein collapsed laughing. "I never thought I'd hear the phrase, 'Julius Malema is appealing', in any context!" he guffawed. 

"Well, he clearly can't recognise when a woman has a 'nice time' or not! Which suggests his media charm doesn't extend into the bedroom..." the Cow added. "Though I'm not sure how the fine is going to work, given that Malema's already told the taxman to nationalise the fortune he denies having amassed..."

Bronstein sighed. "There'll probably be a legal delay... or a series... until uMalume can push through Shabir Shaik's pardon, and give him time to find his cheque book and pen!"

The Cow looked down sadly at her mottled blue legs. "How do people in northern climes ever get laid?" she lamented. "In winter their skin pales beyond pallor, and all kinds of inner workings become visible. It's like those high school plastic figures that used to stand in the science lab with layers stripped away so you could see muscles, bone, naked eyeballs..." she shuddered.

Bronstein chuckled. "Well, social networking gurus have diagnosed an increasing shift toward transparency," he quipped, "so perhaps the natural is following the virtual?"

The Cow sighed. "Perhaps. Like Ecstasy, which could only have been the drug of the wired yoof, there's a move to greater intimacy, sharing, bonding... transparency and openness. Maybe. But..."

"Even David Cameron is portrayed in the cartoons as a jellyfish, totally transparent and floating on the tide of public opinion..." interjected Bronstein.

"That's as maybe!" snapped the Cow. "But I don't like looking through my body. I prefer a verneer of mystique! There is nothing sexy about that level of visibility!"

"You're not alone!"  Bronstein smirked. "Esther Perel, who wrote 'Mating in Captivity', argues that transparency encourages intimacy, but romance - and desire - require mystique!"

"Sure," agreed the Cow, "but it's more than that. There's just something fundamentally unattractive about large acres of wobbly translucent flesh. People of colour don't have that problem - yet, they're native to regions that have sunshine so that advantage is redundant on their home turf!"

"You could always venture down to Liverpool for some brightening up?" suggested Bronstein.

The Cow grimaced. "I think luminous orange is possibly even worse than mottled blue," she said, hesitantly. "But it does explain the success of migration, and inter-marriage. If you had the choice between ashen grey or Caribbean brown,  it's easy to see how a sense of aaesthetics would win over any xenophobic taboos!" 

"Not to mention the accent!" added Bronstein. 

"True!" agreed the Cow. "But it also goes a long way to explain falling fertility rates in Europe - immmigrants aside. I suspect it has little to do with women waiting till middle age to breed, or with rising rates of alcohol consumption amongst young women - and everything to do with competition!"

"Never mind," Bronstein sympathised. "One of these days it will be spring, and then you can lay your African hide out in the sun again..."

"That wasn't what I meant when I spoke of getting laid," the Cow muttered darkly, "but I suppose it's a start!"

The Cow thought this hoarding was too good to pass up:

 ("I wonder what 'Business Report' old Liz gave uMalume?", mused Gramsci...)