The slave driver does not necessarily have to be that evil woman who overworks her housemaid all hours and pay her peanuts. The slave driver is not necessarily that employer Singh who yells at you all day and eventually calls you lazy and useless. The slave driver is the modern man whose life is lived in silly comforts that will not even let him open a can of beans.

The same is the life of a louse. Many will claim to not know the said livestock although they grew up infested by the louse like it was part of their fauna. But once secondary school helped you escape the drawbacks of the hovel that you only knew, your eyes were opened and you became a new creature that can never empathise with those that you left behind. And that new life was 'cloned' when you escaped homeland for life abroad.

Therefore, our lazy louse will be woken up to the alarm bell, scratch his bottom and scrotum lazily as he waddles to the bathroom. There he will shower for hours as if removing grime from his black skin in the desperate aim of making himself whiter like the white woman he is slave to. He will then drive the jalopy he calls his mobile to work- for more slavery. For whatever he calls work is only but escape from reality so that he can crow how he is 'waged and pensionable' although the closest he gets to pension is being faxed home without the benefit of his savings. The drudgery he calls work is slavery to make ends meet rather than accept that he is living below poverty line.

But our lazy louse is happy to crow about his exploits with women and possessions. His jalopy will be belching smoke along the road like it was on fire. Actually, at that point, it will be running on fumes as he cannot feed it enough fuel. On his way to the supermarket, he is quick to carry High Street bags that he stocks with value products, just to show the world that he shops high class. His shopping is nothing but cans of cheap beer whose worth is not much from piss.

Yet, our lazy louse wants to cut out others who are not as mouthy. The lewd description of his women- like they were cattle in the market- makes many wonder whether the lazy louse gets just but blood from his women. The jalopy he talks of is perhaps part of that, and he is worth nowt. And Coventry is forever his covet in the hope that one day, he will be better than the louse he is.

Mister Louse, stop for a moment and let grace and humility reign.

sema wewe kisahani, tukisema sisi vikombe tutaanbiwa tuna mikono!

After reading a couple of your humorous but pensive pieces, and yes, educative, I have decided that I want you. Babu please, I hope you will be professing your love for me in prose just like you pen your your thoughts and opinions. I am serious, we will form one formidable verbially prosy couple.... Please say yes, and I will call ecstacy home forever. I am waiting.