As you read this, she is no longer Princess Komuntale of old, but Mrs Ruth Thomas! Eh, how times and people change!
And so, it is time for us to dissect this American geezer without standing the risk of being called a saboteur to the much-billed fairytale Princess' nuptials. See, previously, yours truly succumbed to silence on this Thomas guy and his affair with our ka-princess, so that I am not called a hater or someone trying to throw the spanner in the works; but now that the deal is sealed, here is my post-nuptial two pence on Thomas.
Okay, he looks good - boys, it takes balls to admit a fellow geezer cuts the looks, but heck, I am talking about his trim hair and beard, clear eyes and full smile. His dressiness? I am not so sure he cuts a debonair look as I expected.
Here he disappointed me. I excuse him for arriving at Entebbe airport in those Jeans and that trim gangster look, but to show up for a meet-and-greet party, the first for your belle's kith and kin and you wear jeans?
Okay, does being American mean throwing all decent formality of dress out of the window? I guess I am asking too much of a black American to dress to the occasion, but w-wait; I thought Obama is such. He never disappoints in dressing. So you know Thomas, most guests at that meet-and-greet party at Piato felt smarter than you and that borders on an insult.
Did I hear he is an accountant for Discovery Channel? I am not sure he came down with a crew from there, but if he did, what's the guarantee that he was here for a real marriage and not shooting a reality show for discovery channel to be shown like a reincarnation of Eddy Murphy's Coming to America? I hope this chap ain't taking us for a ride!
But that he is an accountant, son of an investment banker, mbu, then our dear princess knew all too well how and where to have her bread buttered. I am told that even in the worst of recessions, accountants keep their jobs.
So that is some good insurance:
Talking of good insurance, who could be luckier than this geezer Thomas? You take a whole princess free of charge, because, mbu she is priceless? The boys at the pub were seething when this news filtered in. Some recalling how high they paid for their belles-now-turned domestic tyrants.
Some paid in cash and kind, a lot of it borrowed and begged for women they now wouldn't take even for free!
Bish, the guy who normally sits in the corner quietly sipping away on his drink, unexcited by anything, not even a crucial goal by his favourite Premiership team Liverpool, had a lot to say on this state of affairs: "Kale see how lucky this chap is; you get a princess and she comes free," he said with exasperation.
The pub went silent, leaving only the sound of the overhead television and fan. Bish didn't add a word, but rested his chip on his left palm and sipped his Guinness with the right hand cutting his typical look!
Jeff broke the silence with his usual wit: "Let me groom my boy for Sangalyambogo." The pub went off with the usual fire of laughter and banter that only stops when the last one of us staggers home, just before sunrise!