SATIRE | Brudder Jho, the last time I wrote to you, I addressed you as fei chai – not the kindest of words for someone who ought to be honoured in our country.
Many hold you in high esteem because you single-handedly helped to bring about the change of government in early May.
While some people were cutting out pictures of the leader from posters and billboards, your photos, videos and other visual effects were going viral on WhatsApp, email and Facebook.
The very mention of your name in ceramah and meetings brought about thunderous applause. You were depicted as a magician who could make money, yachts and other valuables disappear with a sleight of the hand.
But coming to the point, ‘he whose name cannot be mentioned’ is in trouble – very serious and deep trouble. I am not kidding, but he is looking at a long spell in the slammer.
What is worse that he is broke – no more money. I have no clue as to where the RM2.6 billion went. Now, his supporters are raising funds à la The People’s Live Telecast Fund.
Peasants are dropping coins and one-ringgit notes, but those who benefited in millions are not touching him with a ten-foot pole. What a reversal of fortunes!
The funds are to mount a legal defence. You would have thought that his lawyer friends would do it free of charge, having previously collected RM9.5 million in legal fees. But since there is a legal defence fund, the minutes must be ticking in the lawyers’ work and time sheets. At the end of the day, win or lose, a hefty bill will be on its way.
I am aware that in the recent past, you sent messages via an intermediary through a news portal. You had requested to come home. Was it genuine or flying a kite to judge the mood and the environment, or was someone doing your bidding from Down Under, like the terrier in His Master’s Voice?
You wanted to cut a deal, but you went through the wrong channels. You made the wrong approach. You should have contacted me. As I write, I cannot help but slot the CD into the PC and listen to the lyrics in Harry Belafonte’s “Banana Boat Song.”
I can pull strings if not cables. That’s what top government lawyers have said. Journalists like me, they reckon, can put fear into the judges and sway decisions. They are on record saying that scribes are influential, persuasive and convincing.
Be warned, there are some lawyers who want to see the back of me and jailed for contempt. But let me be forthright – I am not in the league of the big boys who can fix judges.
In the big house
At the end of the day, ‘he whose name cannot be mentioned’ and perhaps his wife and family members will end up in Sungai Buloh or Kajang. You could be his cellmate (for a short while if you agree to play ball, failing which you could spend equal time on the inside). Don’t worry, I don’t think they’ll throw away the key.
Remember the reception on the yacht where you had a ‘family’ photograph taken on the high seas in the Mediterranean? Well, you can have a similar one taken in the straggling complex with over 1,000 rooms. There is no state room per se, but of course ‘he whose name cannot be mentioned’ is in the habit of reiterating that “Cash is king.”
But what that cannot be replicated, brudder, is the luxurious lifestyle that you and his family enjoyed. No more air-flown flowers worth millions at Sonny Boy’s wedding ceremony; no private mode of transportation – just a can with bars.
When you enter the complex – larger than some palaces – you will be strip-searched and all your valuables – the Rolex Daytona, the Bijan handbag and even cash – will be taken away for safekeeping and returned after completing your tour of duty.
At the moment, my mouth is sealed and gagged, and I cannot be explicit as in the past. I am sure people of your intellect will be able to read between the lines.
If I were the government of the day, I would grant you amnesty if you return all the money you stole from the serial raids on our Treasury. There would be one more important condition: thou shall sing like a canary and tell us all your accomplices and how the loot was shared.
For the moment, authorities in another country have given us some semblance of where the money went, but we are unlikely to recoup what you and the filmmakers blew at the tables, the women and the bubbly in the casinos of Las Vegas.
The big pink
There’s one issue that has been bothering me personally, and am wondering if you have been short-changed or cheated. Remember those pink diamonds worth RM123 million which you bought for the Madame? Well, they are nowhere to be found. It was not in one of the 72 suitcases, and neither was it around the neck of some pretty lass.
The turbaned man is at a loss when asked to explain. “Maybe Brudder Jho paid for them but the jeweller did not deliver, or they could have been sent to the wrong address in Mongolia,” he said twirling his moustache.
I have now replayed the song three times and the lyrics continue to echo in my mind. The chorus is telling indeed:
Come, Mister Tally Man, tally me banana
(Daylight come and me wan' go home)
Before I forget, allow me to thank you for doing the needful for our Sonny Boy in Taiwan last week. He thoroughly enjoyed the woman, the massage and other trappings during his brief retreat.
He has since reported back: “The vino was excellent. The red – Pauillac 1er Grand Cru Classé 2009 from the Château Lafite Rothschild collection was a steal for RM3,000. I left a RM500 tip for the sommelier, just my weekend rojak money.”
Many citizens believe there’s a nexus between Mongolia and Taiwan, but they are poles apart. I can’t think of the link, but do you get the drift, brudder?
R NADESWARAN says that there are many ways to skin a cat. This is just one of them. Comments: citizen.nades22@gmail.com - Mkini
Wicked bro!
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