New Salisbury Herald
Salisbury, Rhodesia. Issue no. 6


A regular, if somewhat irregular, chronicle of news on: The Rhodesian Government in Exile

  • Parliamentary Debate -

    Following rumours that the U.N. is not exactly falling all over itself, however accustomed they might be to doing so in times of crisis, and basically at all other times, to look favourably upon the RGiE's application to be allowed representation and have someone address the General Assembly in full uniform and with a gun on his hip, the recent parliamentary debate focussed on one crucial fact:


    Study groups were hurriedly set up to address this problem, ministers scurried back and forth and fifth through the bar, quizzing each other on the requirements a Rhodela would have to meet. Some just looked quizzical and complained that word of the debate hadn't reached the bar in time and who was running the quizz anyway and what was the main prize? On hearing that no prizes were being handed out these stalwarts just muttered "Ag ja, well, no fine" and went back to discussing beer.

    More conscientious ministers were concocting a short list of the requirements a Rhodela would have to meet. By noon and recess for lunch, the list was still disturbingly short. A consensus was reached on the following:

    1. The ideal candidate must be a former Marxist-trained terrorist, as these have always been the darlings of the U.N., especially if they never actually achieved their aims and got caught in the process of achieving zilch.

    2. The candidate must have spent the better part of his life in prison for trying to overthrow a goverment, and be married to a homicidal maniac with a sadistic streak a mile wide, preferably in possession of her own football team, and with a penchant for unusual necklaces from the Good Year factory.

    3. The candidate must look suitably wise by virtue of having grey hair, be able to do some sort of traditional white dance that won't endanger ageing bones and limbs, and be able to grin bemusedly at official functions as if oozing wisdom along with a modicum of dribble.

    4. The candidate would have to be bosom buddies with all the dictatorial Marxist leaders of the world, specifically those whose countries hadn't quite been able to make the leap forward into the 19th century yet, and have no intention of ever doing so if they can help it, and providing Bush obliges and leaves them alone to keep on doing the old "one step forward, three steps backward" routine, all the while making the world safe for democracy.

    5. The candidate would have to possess nerves of steel and be able to keep a poker face while making speeches about how these countries are beacons of hope for civilisation and shining models of human rights and equality.

    6. The candidate would have to find a way to increase crime by 1000% in the liberated area already governed by the RGiE. This could only be achieved by sending the Sheriff and his deputies off on their long-awaited vacation to Hawaii, and then letting nature take its course and relying on government officials to do what they do best...

    Despite hours of brainstorming and much leafing through back issues of the New Salisbury Herald, the ministers were unable to come up with any further requirements, pointing out that the role model doesn't seem to have actually ever done anything. Despite aching brains, a short list of candidates was hurriedly drawn up and interviewed.

    The following were struck from the list as being unsuitable:

    The Minister of Defence was unable to avoid foaming at the mouth when requested to make a speech complimenting Castro's Cuba as a model of democracy, plus he rejected the idea of spending a quick few years in prison to meet the requirements as Claudia might get married when he wasn't looking, and then on hearing that this was already a fait accompli with bun an' all, he departed for the darkest corner of the bar accompanied by a bottle of 12-year old malt, muttering darkly about fickle wimmin...

    The Minister of African Affairs was seen to visibly blanche and go grey around the gills even when asked to hold forth on the virtues of a rainbow nation. Furthermore when asked to describe the contributions of African civilization to mankind his voice went up several octaves and he was unable to keep a poker face. His assertion that rolling on the floor laughing hysterically should not automatically disqualify him for the role was dismissed.

    The RGiE's medical officer seemed a likely candidate when he proved able to hold forth eloquently on all subjects, but was reluctantly stricken from the list after he kept insisting on all-expenses paid trips to Brazil and Hawaii to interview nubile ethnic candidates for his staff, all of whom would have to meet his requirement of only just having attained voting age. The other requirements he mentioned were not considered suitable for mention in public, though it was noticed that a number of other ministers were wholeheartedly in agreement with him on the finer points staff members would have to prominently display in their role as bosom buddies, all two of them and both of them also too, two being the minimum of fine points required on display...

    The Minister of Home Affairs (and horseless Deputy Sheriff) at first appeared the ideal candidate in view of his grey hairs and devil-may-care-I-sure-as-hell-don't attitude towards possibly dying in the line of duty while traipsing through the hallowed halls of the U.N. trying to find an assembly to address or just trying to find an address for an assembly at which to dissemble, but he too was reluctantly stricken from the list when he kept on about needing a good supply of "Trojans" for the job. The other ministers were not entirely convinced by his protestations that they were transport appliances and not for external appendages, one gross, wimmin, for the pursuance of.

    A tentative application by one of the opposition members was decisively dismissed despite his efforts to proclaim himself the life and soul of the party, even if he didn't actually have one, being an independent, and despite his loud claims to be the only objective person in the entire establishment. One of the interviewing ministers proclaimed "When we're standing at the bar we all have the same objects in hand and the same objective in mind, especially when Bambi's dancing, so eff off...!"

    The search for a suitable candidate will continue.

    A quiet evening in the Indaba Saloon with Bambi Bonkme going through her nightly song and dance routine to entertain the patrons, the green and white hanging proudly on the wall behind the piano player. Just visible seated on the right the Minister of Home Affairs wondering if Bambi is now twins or if he's had one or seven drinks too many... Behind the bar, filling in for Sixpence on his night off, the Sheriff and the Minister of Defence keeping eagle eyes focussed on Bambi (in case she falls off the bar or something and definitely not ogling her nether parts, or so they said)... Unfortunately for the bar Bambi has now wised up to the oft repeated call of "Bambi, what's your surname?", her reply to which usually brought the house down, leaving her mystified at the long queue of forlornly hopeful oldtimers that would magically appear before her.

  • Blackness Studies, an Ethnically Multicultural Seminar planned

    Following the rousing success of "Whiteness Studies" on American campuses, the RGiE has authorised publication of a new preliminary study of a potential working document on the possibility of presenting a feasibility study on the prospects of maybe setting up an interim committee to study the results of the resulting post-preliminary working document on the subject of Blackness Studies.

    Our political analyst has studied the agendas of the Whiteness proponents in America and has come to the scientific conclusion that they are dashed clever, if not downright cunning. "Whiteness", according to the former communists now calling themselves pursuers of equality, which sounds admittedly a lot less red, is a "mental state or a condition, not a race, which is why we call it 'whiteness', it has nothing to do with being white, but you can't suffer from it if you're black, for example. Only whites have it. But it's not a racial thing." In other words if you're white you suffer from it and must be evil, if you're black, you don't and you're an okay sorta guy. If they weren't already dead, McCarthy and Orwell would be dying of laughter.

    Anyhow, since radicals in America are doing their darndest to promote anti-white racism under another fancy name, it stands to reason that like-minded folks of the opposite conviction can do the same the other way round, and everyone will have to say it's okay and allowed. Out with racism, in with blackness studies!

    Read the working document on Blackness Studies, and if you think ours is weird, take a gander at the hilarious original here first!

  • Page 3 Girls Frowned on By Female Herald Staff...

    In view of the heated controversy regarding the editor's decision to try to give sales of the NSH a jump start by including a "Page 3 Girl" after patrons of the Bar were to be heard loudly complaining that it contained too many pictures of "mombies, munts and mamparas" the editor has decided to start a new tradition by placing the Page 3 Girl on the front page, which is also the only page the paper has, and thus quite possibly the most important page.

    The imminent strike by our female staff of 19 in protest at the inclusion of what said staff huffily termed "a piece of skirt and precious little of it at that" was thus narrowly averted when the editor agreed to dispense with a Page 3 Girl altogether and put one on the first page instead. The somewhat mollified female staff is reported as having said "well, that's alright then, just so long as we don't have to have a Page 3 Girl! It's a victory for feminine rights and dignity. We've struck a blow for equality and world peace and equal pay and the vote and boss in our own bowels stuff. All those male chauvinist pigs will sit up and take notice now that we don't have a Page 3 Girl. Serves them right for not asking me first like they promised when they hired me and took all those pictures of me in my bikini for their personnel files! Dirty old men..."

    A quick Galloping poll held among the still-standing patrons of the Indaba Bar revealed that the majority were hugely disappointed at the decision not to include a Page 3 Girl in future editions, and most did not feel that a bit of fluff on the front page would make up for the loss of this grand old newspaper tradition. "The Page 3 Girl is a time-honoured thingamy. I mean, without one it's a helluva lot of cash to pay for a newspaper just to read articles", one worthy was heard to say as he waved his beer around, dousing the Sheriff's cigar in the process, "it's just not the same thing, putting one on page one, hey. It's confusing, how's we supposed to know what's a page three one and which one's not one, hey? The one on page one might be one, but we want one on page three two."

    On being asked by our reporter "what does it matter when there's only one page to this venerable newspaper anyway, sir?" the worthy patron waved his refilled glass of beer around even more, causing a patron not known as Babsie to squeal in outrage as a wave of male patrons rushed to help wipe the resulting avalanche of foam off her décolleté and declared firmly, if somewhat incoherently, "Beside the point, china, that's what. Page 3 Girl belongs on page three, even if there isn't one. Course there is one, but it's one, not three, and that's where she belongs, even if there's only one, she should be on three. Say, who you calling a vegetable newspaper, anyway? Blerry furriner, that's what you are, poncing in here calling the best damn newspaper in the world a collyflower! Bet you never voted for ol' Smithy either, hey? One of them Zanu PooFters, hey? Piss oFf you Pee-eFfer before I blerry donner you!"

    New Rhodesian Air Force Hit by Budget Cuts!

    The Armed Forces of the RGiE have been hit hard by the recent move to cut unnecessary spending and reduce the RGiE's overdraft at the Seventh Multicultural Bank of Tahiti. A previous move to cut spending by firing Bambi Bonkme from her current job at the bar as "Entertainment Director" was hurriedly scrapped after patrons threatened to desert the bar en masse for the more genteel atmosphere of the Tea Bar across the road. In view of the fact that the Bar provides 98% of the Government's income, this was deemed too much of a threat to the lavish incomes of the Ministers, accustomed as they have become to living it up African style.

    Sinister rumblings were heard from the Chief of Police, Army CinC and MoD when they spotted the resulting (and touchingly erotic) pout and silent tears on Bambi's cheeks as the crestfallen maiden contemplated imminent unemployment and a hideous future as a smartly dressed waitress at the Tea Room, where mini-skirts, tank tops and even mildly bawdy songs are banned.

    Ministers stoutly asserted that their hurried reversal of the proposal to fire Bambi was in no way whatsoever influenced by the fact that, subsequent to the proposal being mentioned in public, several T54s suddenly mysteriously appeared parked at strategic points all round the Ministerial offices and living quarters behind the bar, several of them bearing the words "Go Quartz Two!" and "Bambi Bonkme... puh-lease!" chalked on the turrets.

    After overseeing the removal of one T54 whose driver had thoughtfully placed it halfway inside the Saloon doors, or what now remained of them, and thus within arm's reach of the bar "so he wouldn't have to desert his post to get refreshments", the Army CinC strenuously denied allegations of trying to influence government decisions, pointing out that the parking meters introduced by the Minister of Transport at the barracks were blerry expensive, ek sê, and he was just trying to save the army a bit of cash by parking around the bar. His interview with the press was abruptly interrupted by a distraught minister's wife, not known as Babsie either, gesticulating at a T54 with bad brakes whose barrel had inadvertently broken through her bedroom window and was pointing ominously at the marital bed. "How am I supposed to sleep with a bloody great pole with a knob thingy at the end of it pointing at me, hey? It's enough to give a girl nightmares! It's cluttering up the whole bedroom, what am I supposed to do with it when I want to go to bed, hey?" The Army CinC was just in time to fix a warning glare on the grinning young tanker who was in the process of raising a hand.

    When asked to comment on the situation later, her husband, a minister who prefers to remain nameless, stated that he wasn't at all surprised by her reaction as she never had been able to handle such situations or implements once they were safely married. Being of a feminist bent, or just a bent feminist, she had dubbed all such intrusions an "invasion of her privacy" or at least of "certain parts of her privacy", he added regretfully. After our reporter had pointed out that he had meant what did the minister think of the allegations of the military trying to influence government policy by parking tanks around the bar, not his wife's horror of knobbed thingys, the minister replied "Oh that! Well, when you give people toys, you have to expect them to play with them sometimes." He downed his beer and added gloomily "my wife doesn't anymore..."

    Once the dust had settled, the cabinet and military chiefs retired to the bar to discuss draught measures, drink some even, and talk about a way of solving the financial crisis also too. The Air Force chief was first to unveil tentative plans to reduce expenditure on armaments by replacing the big guns on aircraft with a revolutionary new lightweight firing system. "Equipped with parachutes, it could save even more by doubling as a Fireforce!" he announced triumphantly...

Editorial Disclaimer:
Readers may on occasion notice vague similarities to living persons, of whom some may not yet be dead and in the public domain hereafter. This is entirely unintentional, even if you all have a fairly accurate sneaking suspicion of which person was not intended. Should you feel a sudden surge of recognition, please keep it to yourself or deposit in the nearest public facility.

Letters to the editor will be accepted for publication in future issues. Please sign with your full name if expressing controversial opinions, and if resident in Zim, include directions for finding your house, where possible using old street names for the benefit of those older members of the CIO who have not quite mentally adjusted to the new order yet. A copy of your letter pasted in a front window, with a large painted arrow pointing at your front door would be greatly appreciated.

Letters for publication may be sent to THE EDITOR. All letters will be treated with the utmost, impartial, respect for freedom of speech, but we reserve the right to distort them where necessary, change wording at will, and otherwise reverse all opinions expressed in them. Profane letters will not be published, but will be placed in the editor's private collection along with any "artistic" photos of themselves that female readers may wish to contribute.

Race Queens not Racist!

The Japanese delegation to the recently held Conference to Promote Racism held in Jamaica and reported on in the previous issue of the NSH, pose cheerfully for our photographer, who assured them that they would not appear on page three. The three young ladies, known as Race Queens in the world of Formula I racing admitted that they had attended under the misconception that the Conference had something to do with racing... The ladies were denied entry to the Promote Racism Conference on the grounds that they were not black, poor or ugly. "Call themselves Race Queens, pah!" stated a huge black female organiser, "they have nothing to do with race. This..." she said, smacking her own black face demonstratively, "this is what being a queen of race is all about...!" Our photographer stifled an almost irrepressible urge to assist her in that task and turned to the more pleasant pastime of photographing the real Race Queens.


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Come and join the Rhodesian Indaba, an email discussion list set up as part of the Rhodesians Worldwide site. Chat to fellow Rhodesians scattered around the world.

Excellent humour, serious stuff, Rhodesian history, you name it, no topic is taboo. Indaba is the official watering-hole of the infamous Rhodesian Government in Exile. The patrons are the roughest, toughest, meanest sonsabitches this side of the Limpopo, and that includes the other side also too. But there are also genteel ladies on hand to keep us in check as best they can. Lefties, commies and whingers are welcome too, we tend to run out of targets damn quick.

You can join (and leave) online at the Indaba Bar

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Official Disclaimer 2

It's a Dog's Life

Recently the RhSAP took delivery of a new highly-trained dog team whose purpose was to sniff out the presence of Coke and other dubious substances on the premises of the Indaba Bar and adjoining back rooms which double as the Houses of Parliament and Ministerial offices. Unfortunately the dogs are not yet fully trained as they keep running to the fridge behind the Indaba bar whenever the word is mentioned. But as one officer pointed out, they are as keen as mustard to get the job done, just somewhat nonplussed by the terminology of the bar. At mention of a certain brand of beer they tend to wildly head off into the veld, causing patrons to frantically lock the bar doors for fear of what the dogs will drag in next. Since the arrival of the dog team Sixpence has taken extended leave to tend to his sick grandmother, who, he assured us, will take a "too long time dying".

Exciting New Archeological Discovery in the Ruins of Zimbabwe

A rusted old cistern, sprouting the remains of wires and tubes, may prove to be the most important discovery to date in the history of the ruins of Zimbabwe. Professor Imatwitwe, curator of the Isblokken Museum in Ipilosadza, a former garden boy at the local prison who worked his way up to his present position in the Mugabe administration by dint of much elbowing and greasing palms, quotes the discovery as proving that there was once a civilized society in Zimbabwe, one that used flush toilets as opposed to the nearest donga. There is some controversy as to the age of the relic, he admitted. "I personally believe it dates back to the great mamparamamatopo epoch, proving that our Shona ancestors not only invented gunsmithing but knew quite a lot about shit as well. The opposing school of thought believes that the cistern is only about 24 years old, dating back to a much more recent civilized era prior to the ruin of Zimbabwe. As evidence they point to a faded inscription reading "Made in Munster", but Professor Imatwitwe is not convinced, believing that this may well have been one of the first examples of a written script invented by the early Shona inhabitants of the Muntustan empire. He is currently doing research in ancient textbooks and dictionaries found in the remains of the local missionary school to see if he can make the all-important etymological connection. "It is long and hard work," he pointed out, "there is much unrelated material in these textbooks about 'See Spot run' to get through first," he declared tiredly, "but I will find it soon, and then that racist IanSmithsonian Institute will have to admit our contribution to western civilization!"

Female Herald staff members as they leave the paper's office to celebrate their victory at the Indaba Bar, confident that their stand against inclusion of a Page 3 Girl has struck a blow for feminine rights. "We are not lust objects," one was heard to declare, "I can't understand why men insist on looking at us as lust objects, I really can't."...

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Paid Advertisement for Biltong, full of gratuitous sex. We were unable to find any actual biltong to include in the photo for the advert before going to press, but sex, as any fool knows, can sell anything and the young lady does look eminently chewable, so no-one's going to miss a tiny picture of old dried-up beef that's been in the sun too long when there's fresh tender sirloins on display.

Zimbabwean Spy Arrested!
A spy, working for the Zimbabwean CIO, was collared by the RhSAP late last night when he tried to infiltrate the Indaba Bar in the guise of a cleaning lady. "I don't know what it was that gave me away," the aspiring spy told our reporter gloomily, "I was advised by and dressed exactly like all the cleaning staff at Zimbabwe CIO HQ and if I say so myself I look a lot more attractive than most of them! I guess these Rhodesians are just not used to fat butt bints with all the right equipment..."

If you missed the first five issues, they're not sold out yet...

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