Well, thanks for the ride, guys. My lovely wife and I have decided to leave the hurly-burly of Jo'burg and move to the countryside. There is money to be made out there while serving the people. Plus, there is opportunity for international travel.
I am running for the mayor's position in the OR Tambo district municipality in the Eastern Cape. It is a lucrative post.
The incumbent, Zoleka Capa, took a huge delegation from the impoverished municipality to Zambia last month to celebrate that country's independence. The trip cost R3m.
The Sunday Times says that Capa, her husband Ndumiso, daughters Sibongile and Ntandokazi, an unidentified friend and two mayoral committee members flew to Lusaka and were booked into the luxurious Intercontinental Hotel.
But my lovely wife and kids are not the only ones who will benefit if I take over from Capa. Capa managed to get 200 people, including councillors, a netball team, a cultural ensemble, a choir and a soccer team to come along. I am on her side on this one. Every mayor needs a delegation. The more incompetent the official, the bigger the delegation needs to be.
Capa understands business, too: control your costs at all times. So the rest of the delegation got four buses to travel up to Lusaka. "The convoy was led by the mayor's white Mercedes-Benz ML320, a municipal bakkie and a car loaded with food for the bus passengers," says the Sunday Times.
Why did the white Merc have to come along? The Zambian cars were clearly not good enough for the sister. The white Merc was needed for the mayor to swan around in in impoverished little Lusaka, with its potholes, and for the mayor to emerge from the sunroof to wave at the masses.
By the way, Capa is the same mayor who is in hot water with her ANC colleagues after she spent R45m buying farms in another province for her municipality. The farms now lie fallow and the buildings are in disrepair. Why, I say, why?
Mmmm. I think my lovely wife and I will stay on in Jo'burg after all.
And so off to Pretoria to break bread with a friend who works for government. He had a beef. "Everyone has a hand held out to treasury: gimme money for this, gimme money for that. When Pravin Gordhan tells them to go jump in the lake, they remind him that he does not have that much political clout. Then they run to Jacob Zuma and tell on him," he said.
Me, I don't think Pravin's people should complain. When the Eskom board accepted Jacob Maroga's verbal resignation, you know what happened? He got on the blower to both Zuma and Julius Malema. Barbara Hogan should be given a medal for what she is going through - she has two, instead of one, ANC leaders breathing down her neck.
No matter. When senior Pretoria civil servants want a bit of my time, they go to Capeesh? It reminds them of New York, says my good friend, what with the red brick and the huge wood-fired ovens that dominate the entrance level.
But that is not all that is nice about Capeesh? The thing about most Pretoria restaurants is that they are in shopping centres. It does not always make for conviviality. Capeesh? is in one of those open-air shopping centres, which means that it has an area where one can enjoy the Pretoria sun.
The place apparently gets full, particularly in the evenings. The lunchtime trade was respectable even though we arrived late.
Service was good. When my friend pointed out that we got cold bread the waiter sprinted away in consternation to get hot, freshly baked bread. The house white wine was good - my friend, the conscientious civil servant, did not want to arrive at the office sloshed, so we stuck to a glass each.
The menu is classic Italian and extensive. I went for the oven-baked sole, topped with mussels in a white wine and tomato herb sauce and served with a small risotto. The civil servant went for pappardelle pasta with seasonal vegetables served in a Parma ham wrap. The food - Sicilian-born chef Giuseppe Sgroi designed the menu - is good.
Capeesh? is a great little Italian restaurant, clearly loved by the owners and their clientele. The staff take pride in their jobs.
That's something you can't say about some of our politicians down in the Eastern Cape.