...and the Zimbo women dropped their clothes in protest

Oppah Muchinguri is the boss of the women’s league of Zanu PF, the ruling party in Zim. A sensible woman – except when she threatens to take her clothes off in public. She did just that on national TV the other night.

Now, when an African woman drops her knickers in public, she is throwing down the gauntlet. She is saying “bring it on, bring it ALL on”. She is saying “I’m mad, I’m real mad”. She is angry. Pissed. Livid. Furious. Irate.

Now, you know there has long been rumour that the mob in Zanu (apparently not so clever, turns out), is scheming to whack the old geezer, the Big Boss Cahuna Himself, and get themselves in position to become the highest ornamentals of this great pimpers' paradise called Zimbabwe.

And so Oppah warned us all that day. “Just tell us who is troubling you,” Oppah, dazzling as usual in her flowing robes decorated with the picture of Big Chief Himself over her well endowed upper torso. “I tell you, if those people continue doing so, president, we will remove our clothes in protest.” Jaw dropper!

Oh, how the women roared in unified approval. “The clothes,” they shouted, like a scene straight out of one of those National Geographic cults documentaries – or the scene with that King Julian cat in that cartoon Madagascar (I like to move it move it, I like to move it move it, I like to move it move it). “For you, Big Chief, we yield the clothes.”

Gets a pervert thinking, don’t it?

Nude, angry Oppah, a thousand nude angry Zanu PF females behind her sizeable and bare rear, marching down First Street, Harare’s main shopping boulevard. Placards: “The Naked Truth or Bust” (couldn’t resist that one) or “My tits belong to Great Chief Himself Alone”.

Have you been to one of those league meetings? No? Their obesity only varies on levels of shock effect!!

A tonne of nude Zanu PF female bulk, rumbling down First Street, would teach us all a lesson. For sure! Force us to turn from our ways. Run back to The Great Uncle Himself. Heads hung low in shame. Wailing. Groveling. Pleading for his forgiveness. Really. What could be worse? What could be worse than a tonne of sheer Zanu PF female bulk, rumbling down First Street during rush hour?