By Our Online Team

24^th Oct 2011: Dear Yoweri, it’s been weeks since I last had a proper shower, leave alone make love to a voluptuous woman.  I know my predicaments will be a sure source of giggling in some African capitals like Kampala but I am now wiser which is why I have decided to share my wisdom with you Mbasogo in Malabo, Yoweri in Kampala, Meles in Addis and Mugabe in Harare.

When senior Comrade and Brother Hosni fell in the waters of the Nile I sat down my son al- Islam, a PhD graduate of the London School of Economics and I asked him; ‘son, do you think it will roll down to Tripoli?  Al-Islam answered with a sneer.

‘Papa, I am schooled in Western thought and philosophy,’ he told me.  ‘I read predictions and projections of The Economist Intelligence Unit. I use Silicon Valley software to track Western action in Africa. I know the variables. I know when they positively correlate. I know when the West acts. We are Libya and Libya is us Papa.’

I was confused but I believed my son. The next morning energetic al-Islam was on TV and Radio to address his people; ‘Cairo is not Tripoli. Damn NATO.’  But now I realise my son was terribly wrong. George Orwell was right. After the expulsion of Mr Jones from his own property by drunken and deluded animals high on drugs, the blackbirds cooed in the elms sending out toxic revolutionary messages. The owners of neighbouring farms were worried but not me Muammar.

Why? Why? Why Africa when my brother Hosni had just drowned in the Nile?  Comrades, over the months I have come to realise that you become more intelligent when you don’t take a shower. For God’s sake I would have also loved to make love to a woman but I will not be ashamed to admit that I became impotent as soon as that dwarf called Sarkozy started spitting hell fire from the air on beautiful Tripoli and I Muammar escaped dressed in a woman’s garb.

I have lost hope of ever gaining my potency that saw me date women from the Crimea to the slopes of the Ruwenzori Mountains. The thought of being nailed by that horrible Argentinean called Ocampo, the thought of Western camera’s gazing intensely at me in The Hague are sure to make me impotent forever.

Now to you my friend Yoweri!  My son Khamis went to a Russian military College. I sent him to Russia because at the time I wasn’t in the good books of London and Washington over Lockerbie. Upon graduation Khamis went to Spain to study an MBA. Then he got back home to head my security and Special Forces.

You ,Yoweri, I have heard your son, that little boy that I promoted studied in Britain and went to a military College in Britain and like Khamis did now heads your security? Do you see the similarities between the two boys?  It is sad that I even don’t know where Khamis is as I write or whether he still walks.

Now to you my dearest Mbasogo, the best thing your son knows is sleeping with girls. He has slept with every nationality on earth from cabbage American girls to horny Italians and fishy Filipinos. Ask him and he will tell you what he does with his dongle.  With my fall, Africa has been murdered – stabbed in the heart by traitors from within and the West. But there is hope brothers. Hope. Hope.  My advice to you my brothers; don’t listen to your sons.

There’s a buzz in the air. I think it is Sarkozy. I have to get back to the sewer hole for I am a sewer rat.  Dearest Mbasogo, Yoweri, Meles and Mugabe, I hope you get this letter.

Yours,

Muammar

Address Unknown