My Children,
Once again our annual flirtation with, ahem, democracy, is upon us. My dear friend the High Chancellor and Grand Poobah Mr Admin has appointed the 21st February as the date of the club AGM.
I have no need to urge you all to attend and show your unquenchable devotion to your President by voting for me in some form of ballot. I think the voice of the membership has been heard often enough that we no longer need such futile gestures of affirmation.
Nonetheless, it is your right to deliver the democratic order of the boot to any lesser club functionaries whose performance may not have met your, er, high expectations. So if you have been silently seething at the incompetent antics of your team captain, or you feel that the club would be better managed by a different shower of monkeys, this is your opportunity to do something about it.
For let me tell you this: if you don't show up, and you get some neanderthal nincompoop as skipper, then you can ballywell put a sock in it for the rest of the year.
The gavel will fall at 3pm on the appointed day. I should remind you that ever since McGill claimed the record for the longest uninterrupted, irrelevant and incoherent rant, the bar has had to remain closed during AGMs. So if you think you may need some lubricant during the peristaltic progress of the agenda, BYO.
My blessings upon you all. Remember, we know where you live. Now then, I'm feeling peckish. I wonder who's in the fridge...
His Excellency President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Shifty, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea, and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular.
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