Nick M pontificating for political satire: From the deadly pen of @BhudhiGhivhi
Permanent Secretary Nick Mangwana:
"And so in closing, allow me to end on a moment of frankness.
It has been a long journey.
From mopping the floors of the psych ward in Nottingham, to rising to the heights of permanent secretary of Information, is no easy feat.
It takes a ruthlessness and shamelessness that few possess.
I had to prove myself time and time again, that I was willing to do whatever it takes to sanitize the misdeeds of our great Party. That there was no depth to which I was not willing to stoop.
No matter how low.
It is a unique talent, for which I sometimes feel, honestly, that I don’t get enough credit.
There are many who say that I am unqualified for any type of high level Govt position and that I particularly have no background or skills in Media and Information.
And they are right.
But... I make up for my lack of knowledge and skill, with RUTHLESSNESS.
And that is the quality my party ZANU PF values most of all.
With this job comes the inevitable requirement to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. You have to have broad shoulders.
When one wakes up each morning to lie to an entire nation and whitewash atrocities, one will doubtlessly face colossal and widespread criticism from all quarters. You have to have the ability to shut out logic and consciousness, and focus on the job at hand.
That is where I excel.
I abandoned shame a long time ago. I found it serves no purpose.
When you are in the business of abducting activists, stealing elections and looting state resources, there is no room for shame, or empathy, or mercy.
The less you have of these traits, the bigger your bank account!
So it’s an easy choice.
And in line with this theme, I will close with the inspiring words of Shakespeare’s LADY MACBETH:
‘Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts.
Fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty.
Make thick my blood.
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious vistings of nature shake my fell purpose...
... Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes.’