KP: South Africa day

July 5, 2012 § Leave a comment

South Africa day

I’m at the sporting academy in Earl’s Court to celebrate South Africa day. Trotty’s somehow persuaded me to go. To say I’m not happy would be an understatement. I’ve decided I’m gonna sit at the bar and eat chicken. I only came for the prize giving. I’m leaving as soon as I pick up my best sportsman trophy.

I look around. There’s Nelson Mandela sitting at the grand table. He’s eating a chicken. Johan Botha and FW De clerk are there too looking around with their beady eyes, eating chicken. Charlize Theron is sitting at the top table eating chicken.

Suddenly Trotty jogs up.

“Hey bru. You enjoying yourself?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”


“No of course I’m not enjoying myself Trotty. It’s like a bad dream. I mean look at em all.”


“The ANC man. Fucking disgrace. They’ve run the country into the ground. It’s a shambles. Just like this ceremony.”

“C’mon bru. Anyway we’re here for the best sportsman! I reckon it’s gonna be tight this year hey?”

“Are you serious? Look my diminutive little roundfaced friend, there’s only three sportsmen from our country. You, me and that Oscar Pistorious. I’m sorry but you couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery and as for Pistorious. I mean who ever called him an athelete. You do know the guy has got no feet?”


“Look around you man. There on the table– that’s the problem there in a nutshell Trotty. That’s the problem.”

“What d’you mean bru?”

“Him!” I point to Mandela who is eating a chicken leg.

Trotty goes off to chat to someone prominent South Africans.


It’s two hours in. I’ve had several glasses of jaffa juice and I’m pumped.

Trotty comes up to me. He’s about to speak but I hold my hand up to silence him.

“Look at em all Trotty. Running things like it was there’s. Look at the one’s at the front. I mean what’s they ever done Trotty? Well?”

Trotty is silent. I look up and see Mandela looking down at me.

“Hey Nelson what about a white man’s rights eh?” I shout.

“Hey KP mate better not shout so loud bru.”

“ The what min Nilsen, the what min.”

“C’mon bru. They’re gonna have the best sportsman n a second! Calm down man.”

There’s a sudden hush and the announcer speaks.

“And the award for the best sportsman in 2011– third prize the de Boer brothers. second prize– Jonathan Trotty. And first prize goes to– Oscar Pistorious!”

I’m incandescent.

“Trotty, they gave it to Pistorious. Pistorious!! I mean an athlete with no feet! He won the prize!!”

“Hey unlucky bru. I rally thought it’d be you.”

“I don’t care anymore Trotty. Look at em all. Look there’s Pistorious. An athelete. Hahahaha.”

I start to laugh really loudly and manically. Oscar Pistorious goes up to the lectern to receive his prize.

“Pistorious. Hey Oscar mate how are ya?” I shout.

He looks down at me.

“Look hey Oscar I’ve got a joke for you. Listen mate, if you were an angry politician what would your name be?”

He grimaces at me.

“Yeah that’s right Pissed Tory Pistorious.”

I burst out laughing. He tries to ignore me.

“Hey Oscar—here’s another one. If you were a drunk politician what would you be? Legless! Legless man! Gettit? Hahaha.”

The room is silent.

“Oh you didn’t get it eh. Ok look, if you were an angry drunk politician what’d they call? Legless pissed Tory Pistorious, ah ha ha ha.”

Pistorious gets up out off the plinth. He breaks into a jog. Then a run. Jesus Christ he’s getting quicker. He’s like that silver terminator off Terminator 2, moving toward me…like lightning. He’s about to crash into me when he stops.

“KP. If I were like you I would truly be a sad and pitiful individual.”

“Look man if you can’t take a joke.”

“No. You are a joke Kevin. You are the joke.”

Suddenly another voice pipes up from behind the barbeque. It’s Johan Botha.

“Yeah KP, I think you should leave.”

Charlize Theron screams from across the room.

“Yeah f***g KP you c**ts**t ba**rd f**k out, f**k yourself you l*tle s**t! TITS! KP out.”

More voices. Voices. They’re everywhere. They’re all baying for me. Nelson Mandela puts the chicken down and starts shouting. “Get out KP we don’t want your sort in our country.”

There’s a guy over there chanting in Swahili.

“O God. You see what the ANC have done to our proud country Trotty. You see people!”

“Eh er….”

“Get out KP. Get out KP.”

“C’mon you must see it!”

Everybody….they’re chanting…please guys no…I’m KP. I’m KP. I am K…..P

I’m escorted out by a short, black orderly called Toby. As I reach the door he turns to me and says:

“By the way Mr Pietersen, I really loved your switch hit against Brett Lee the other day. Top top shot man.”

I walk away and think to myself– what a nice guy.


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