I was going through a rich seam of unusable ideas at that time – late February to early March 1993 – perhaps the longest string of unused items in my whole NewsRevue writing (so-called) career.
I have a feeling that Janie and I took a long weekend in the Derbyshire peaks around that time, doing some walking in freezing temperatures and that I wrote a few of these duds there. Proof positive that I need warmth and comfort in order to be funny.
This lyric has some good lines; I think it is a good read. But it does not have performance quality to it.
ZAIRE OF THE BRAT
(To the Tune of “The Year Of The Cat”)
VERSE 1
Like an extra from a James Bond movie,
In a toque made of pure leopard’s skin;
He goes strolling through the crowds like Butelesi,
Contemplating a sin.
Now his name’s Mobutu and he may well shoot you,
If you say his country is in strife;
Don’t bother asking for resignations,
He’s the President for life,
In Zaire of the brat.
VERSE 2
In Kinshasa people don’t ask questions,
When he takes other’s wives for kicks;
Despite the rise of AIDS and such infections,
In the Zairian sticks.
Been allowed to stay ‘cos the USA,
Had maintained Mobutu by mistake;
George Bush was pushed and now Bill Clinton’s,
Leaving fire in his wake,
For this Zairian brat.
MIDDLE BIT
He’ll be overthrown ideally,
In Kinshasa by a more liberal team;
He speaks in poor French and Swahili,
Liked Ceausescu and reads Machiavelli,
He’s a Zairian brat.
VERSE 3
So this chief Mobutu Sese Seko,
Is an African man we should watch;
With his glass of pink Champagne in Belgian Congo,
He’s completely lost touch.
Since the sanctions came he’s not been the same,
‘Cos he knows he ought to be afraid;
Katanga, Zabanga, and he’s thrown over,
But for now he’s going to stay,
In Zaire of the brat.
Zaire of the brat.
I tried an update of this lyric, dated 23 May 1997, which I’m pretty sure also remained unused in NewsRevue:
ZAIRE OF THE BRATS
(To the Tune of “The Year Of The Cat”)VERSE 1
Like an extra from a James Bond movie,
In a toque made of pure leopard’s skin;
He goes strolling through the crowds like Butelesi,
Contemplating a sin.
Now his name’s Mobutu and he don’t like Hutus,
Or Tutsis in his land of strife;
Don’t bother asking for resignations,
Thinks he’s President for life,
In Zaire of the brat.VERSE 2
In Kinshasa people don’t ask questions,
They just pray that a change leads to peace;
Despite the rise of AIDS and such infections,
Amongst the poor Congolese.
Laurent Kabila is a wheeler dealer,
Let us hope he’s not a big mistake;
Off goes Mobutu with his prostate cancer,
Leaving fire in his wake,
In Zaire of the brats.MIDDLE BIT
He’s been overthrown ideally,
In Kinshasa by Kabila and crew;
Who speak in English and Swahili,
Like Ceausescu and read Machiavelli,
Just more Zairean brats?VERSE 3
So this chief Mobutu Sese Seko,
Is an African man on the skids;
With his glass of pink Champagne now in Morocco,
He’s not got long to live.
With his cancer such a pain in the crutch,
Perhaps a victim of a voodoo curse;
Katanga, Zabanga, and he’s thrown over,
For better or for worse,
In Zaire of the brats.
Zaire of the brats.
Below is a very good live vid of Al Stewart singing “Year Of The Cat”: