11.26am: Finally, Mbeki starts to speak. Wait, scratch that. Mbeki starts reading from his 42-page presidential report in his usual level monotone. I hope he’s not planning on reading the whole thing.
11.49am: Sweet Jesus! I think he is seriously planning to read the whole damn thing word for word. We’re only on page seven but my butt is already sore. B-b-but everybody has a copy of the report! What’s the point of this exercise? Surely he should have a compressed version and refer us to the voluminous document for reference? There’s a murderous glint in the eye of one of the delegates at this point as Mbeki drones on, ratting off stats laboriously.
12.01pm: The president drones on. I’ve logged on to my PC now and I’m keeping myself entertained by Googling stats that are contrary to the president’s. I wonder if I’d make a name for myself if I stood up and protested vigorously: “I object, Mr President! The Mafisa initiative did not distribute R42,2-million to 5 211 farmers. I just Googled it and that figure is inflated.” I wonder if my M&G posse would intervene as they dragged me outside. Riaan does not inspire confidence — I think he’d pretend not to know me and let the thingamabouncers beat me up.
12.44pm: More droning. My admiration for the president is well documented and everything, but if I listen to another five minutes of this, I might have to adopt my own armed struggle on pure principle. Anything to make him stop. I see some wet paint in the process of drying plucking its nasal hair to get some excitement in the sheer boringness of this whole exercise. Is this guy trying to get as many people as possible not to vote for him? Oh, wait; this is one of those ANC traditions that I know nothing about, being a yellow-bellied fallen comrade and all that.
1.13pm: The torture continues unabated. I send my wife an SMS: “Are you watching this? We are only on page 29, ferchrissakes! Suicide is starting to become an attractive option.” I think I have successfully moulded my used-to-be-sweet wife into my image. “This is great for me. I have managed to put both our brats to sleep by placing them in front of the TV,” is her response. Karema Brown ofBusiness Day, seated to my right, is now lying flat on her back. Ohmygod! She’s pointing a gun at her head to end it all … oh, sorry — she’s busy sending SMSs as well. I can only guess …