Since we are uncertain of the current PC term for Americans what are not the same colour as whites nor indians (not them of the same type as Pakis, but the other ones who are one of the colours on the US flag but not blue or white), and in view of the fact that they consider each successive term dreamed up for them to be discriminatory, for the purposes of this document we have compromised and used them all, so they will be referred to from here on as Black African American Negro Persons of Colour, or henceforth and fifth as BAANPOCs for short to avoid any derogatory inferences.

Wherefore, and five, be it known that:

a. There comes a time in the course of human affairs when it's every man for himself and time to wake up, water the tulips, spread muck on the roses, and smell the daisies. (Yes, we know, but the Poet Jacarandarate [henceforth PJ for shorts] insists on a bit of flowery speech for all official documents.)

b. The gender imperative being influential in defining the frames of reference in genuflectional and bi-directional monotheistic contemporary attitudes as they apply to monopolistic reproductive techniques of impregnation in the tropical blow fly. (The Min. of Fisheries insisted on putting that bit in to show that we can also be pc liberals and sound educated. No, don't bother, he doesn't know what it means either.)

c. The quality of life of BOONDOCKs (that's them, by the way) having degenerated in the land of the racially unjust racist whites (that's a liberal pompousnym for America), to whit, the land of the shackled, home of the fettered, to such a degree that, the honourable members of the RGiE (that's us, by the way), having deliberately delibberated and dribbled at great length, wiped away tons of saliva in the process, and having sought a consensus among those of like opinion and political conviction, but who never went to jail for it, mind, who also drive BMWs and wear bush hats totally out of place in their current habitats ("Ain't no sunshine where we've gone, tra la la", as the song goes, eg who the Hell needs a bush hat way out in the Yukon?) have... um...lost the thread of this sentence, so we'll get back to it later on and make it say something... or else.

American former celebrities examining exotic gifts and ornaments sent to them by the governments of African countries eager to receive new BANGCOCK blood, deeply humbled by the generosity of their brothers overseas, or perhaps just mulling over the new erotic possibilities posed by some of these implements...

d. We have elected to pass the hat around, dig deep, fork it all over, and help the BANGCOCKs (that's them) go back to eating their roots as they were wont in times of yore before the Ay-rabs got at them. The RGiE (that's us) has raised the princely sum of US$10, five pounds and thruppence (yes, well, some of us are a bit old and cling to the old ways and likewise coins), 4 rupees and 17 Australian cents (miserly bunch out there!) for the purpose of financing a return to paradise and the good times. The steamship "Bambi Bonkme", named and christened by the Min. of Defence in honour of the Indaba Bar's one and only indigenous (Hell no, man, not that kind, she's white as a lily - 'nother one there for you, PJ!) Finnish stripper, except it was supposed to be named after Salisbury but he drank the whiskey first because he thought bashing boats with it a waste of good booze and then got muddled as to why he was standing near the water's edge, unzipped and piddled in the river, and then as a result of having so many valuables in hand, as it were (he had treble vision by that time), hit on another brilliant idea which we won't elaborate on here and now. Suffice to say, the boat's name stuck. Where were we? Oh ja, the steamship is to be made available for transport purposes, free of charge, and at no cost either, for the grand repatriation.

The mighty juggernaut, proud flagship (and only boat) of the New Rhodesian civil fleet, the Bambi Bonkme, marvel of modern technology, proud and unstoppable, bludgeons her way through stormy Godforsaken seas to port on her sacred mission of mercy.

e. The "Bambi Bonkme" will be moored at a famous harbour in America, at a venue which we shall not name at this point in time to avoid it being swamped by hopeful carpetbaggers and DOCKDONGS (for meaning of acrimoniousnyms, see top), suffice to say that it once got well and truly bloody donnered by the Japs so Spielbug could make a movie of it, and the Sheriff and his posse of total (without the "T") one killer-instinct deputy ("Dig Hard and Deep" he always says to his prisoners 'cause he's getting on a bit and says he can't afford to waste time touring them all round the blerry country to find an empty cell, specially if there's no fuel to be had) will be on hand to control the wild rush to the boat. We will not be sailing via Australia, by the way, as they apparently don't like boats full of BONGDONGS. A hopeful request by the Sheriff to be allowed to use a T55 to cull the illegals from the queues has been vetoed as we can't afford to lose our entire armoured division should things go wrong. The RMO has kindly offered him the loan of an ambulance with flame throwers fitted to the chassis, which he picked up cheap (along with his suspiciously young staff) during a quick holiday in RSA when Mandela wasn't looking.

We do expect a huge rush of hopefuls once word has spread that each repatriate will receive a grubstake of the huge amount of Zim$.500,000,-- an aloe vera inoculation kit, fly swatter and a spade to get him started on his African back to basics venture.

f. As for the incitements to repatriate, these are enticing indeed. The short list is as follows:

1. Zillions of bogeyvillains growing and multiplying all over the place (that's your lot, PJ. Jeeze, woman, don't moan, we said we'd do our best, no-one said anything about buying a dictionary as well!)

First view of the shores of Africa. Paradise and a fleet of taxis await the newly repatriated Baanpocs.

2. No language problem to speak of - every country has about 140 official languages to start with and no-one knows which ones to learn anyway, even if there were books to be had. The Pigeon English of the repatriates will fit in admirably as no-one will understand that either, so equality will reign supreme. The Minister of Sport has seen to it that foreign trade officials and ambassadors to Africa will in future be given a course of videos from MTV to master the art of scratching their groins and pointing at everyone with splayed fingers to get messages across. Advanced courses in droning stuff that sounds like it might rhyme are under consideration, though it is proving difficult to find experts in this subject as - a) no-one knows what they're saying anyway and b) they keep getting killed. Know'msayng?

3. Religious freedom - lots of good stuff with bones, happyclapping and wearing Halloween-type masks to choose from. Just like back home....when it used to be home, of course. The Rev. Jackson has agreed to pop over now and again to apply tender ministrations to his former flock, as he put it. Our Kiwi minister is still waiting for a reply to his kind offer to donate a few sheep for this purpose.

4. Culture. Oodles of it and no stereotypes to be found. Loads of hollow logs to make drums and tons of grass to make pitcheresque local costumes. Leaflets are being prepared to inform repatriates of the dangers of grass fires and Mambas looking for a warm nook in the grass to snuggle down for the night.

5. Local shops can cater adequately to the BEANBOGS' every need. Great care has been taken to eliminate all vestiges of decadent racist white culture in the huge variety of goods available. All inventories are guaranteed African origin with roots to make Haley proud. Repatriates will be able to revel in the thought of leaving behind all the repulsive facets of white culture that have plagued their existence and robbed them of their identity for hundreds of years - TV, movies, computer games, electricity, shopping malls, hospitals, schools, toys, clothing, and Coke (yes, well, that kind too, though there are African versions that can be smoked or sniffed, but the drink is what we were getting at.

Exotic, well-stocked, African shops, totally devoid of anything remotely resembling the evil, corrupting influence of white culture, await the delighted gaze of the eager new immigrants...!

6. Historical Authenticity. No need to go inventing the past no more and no need to spend years in school peering at blackboards and objecting that they represent discrimination and oppression like the White House and Uncle Ben's Rice...

Local experts on oral history will be able to impart their reservoir of knowledge and the DINGBATS will be able to walk away proudly with a diploma after a week, having heard all there is to know of African history and culture in a coconutshell. To alleviate the paucity of movies, and since Spielbug is unlikely to nip over every year to concoct a new version of African history for them, outings will be organised to popular resorts like the Sudan and Dahomey where live re-enactments of African history, better even than reality TV or Big Brother, are held daily and where the DINGDONGS will be able to see their history in action as the slave caravans pass by. Some may even be induced to participate if they get too close and don't watch their Ps and Qs, or Q in the wrong place to P, ie on the road where the blokes with guns and spare shackles pass by. Numerous offers to provide funding for these trips have been received from various neighbouring Ay-rab countries, which is downright neighbourly of them.

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