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Cry “havoc!” and let loose the force multiplier

Render what is partially Caeser’s unto Caeser, albeit that he never actually met a force multiplier.

A few weeks ago Sky News took an in-depth look at Zimbabweans crossing the South African border.

Once across, these poor refugees were confronted by three farmers who, in one case, chased them on foot and threw stones at them. We were then treated to the farmers handing the ones they had captured to the local police.

The Sky presenter then interviewed one of the farmers who was asked whether he wasn’t concerned about people calling him a vigilante.

I don’t have the transcript but the reply was along the lines of: “They may hint at it … but when they realise what we are they will get down on their knees … we are a force multiplier.”

I’m metro enough to admit I had tears.

I have never laughed like I did when I saw the face of that Sky presenter.

I can only imagine the post-interview chat in the Sky trailer: “Force multiplier … anyone?”

They needed a South Afrcan interpreter: “Indeed, what the farmer basically said was, ‘We frew ’em wif stones because border crossings are preffelant and because why … because why the polies are useless and peoples need a force multiplier to protect them.'”

This guy is my man of the century, keep the rest.

He is the answer to hijackings.

THE FORCE MULTIPLIER DOES HIJACKINGS
You’ve spent the whole week jaag-ing Zimmies back over the grens … daar’s amper nie eers ‘n klip left on this side of the border … and a new survey says the price of meat means you can’t afford to braai.

Why is it so expensive? We don’t even have an outbreak of foot-and-mouth … unless you include Manto, who only opens her mouth to change feet.

It’s enough to make even a force multiplier cry!

Well, don’t despair. Rather :

1. Drive your voertuig to a known hijacking hotspot like Jan Smuts Avenue near Hyde Park. Don’t forget to wear all your jewellery etc and hang your hand with your watch out the window.

2. Wait at the robot for a while.

3. NOU! Die hijackers is daar … hulle gooi jou uit, but before they drive off, you pull out your bottle of dirty water and even dirtier lap.

4. Begin washing the windscreen. Don’t forget the conversation so banal it could sterilise a bunny on heat: “You de man … give me five … can I have some change … OK, what about a cigarette?!”

5. Then make sure all your mates come out of the shadows and start handing them pamphlets … 2 345 564 564 should do it … and then hand them free lighters and demand to see if they’ve got change to pay for these “freebies”.

6. By this time there should be a backup for about six miles and hooting sufficient to send a priest into anger management before topping himself.

7. Then show the hijackers to a parking spot on the side of the road and ask for change to watch the car. By that time, boet, THEY’LL PAY YOU to take your frigging car. Make sure it’s enough for meat. If not, offer to wash the car.

NB Make sure your mates have got them covered. They might try to make a run for it …

Go home and braai.