Slob. The
Oxford English dictionary, defines slob as: “An offensive term that
deliberately insults somebody regarded as having an unhealthy lifestyle or poor
standards of hygiene or manners.”
Hmm, but the
Oxford English dictionary got it wrong. They lied. If you ask men what the
correct definition is, they would say: “A man who spends all day Saturday and
Sunday lazing about on the couch in a torn T-shirt and tattered boxers while
nursing a hangover, scratching away at his scrotum, passing wind and drinking
beer in an attempt to cure the hangover while watching Premiership football on
DStv with a group of equally hung-over slob friends as Wifey or Girlfie slaves
away in the kitchen making pork ribs and gizzards for them while she juggles
changing Toy-ee’s diaper and running down to the shops to get more beer for the
slobs.”
I agree with
that definition and there is no harm in being a slob because it is expected of
men and it is something that men subscribe to. Tell Top Gear presenter Jeremy
Clarkson or our very own Sanyu FM presenter, James ‘Fat Boy’ Onen that they are
slobs, and they won’t be offended. They would wholeheartedly agree with you.
Women don’t
like us men being slobs for health reasons like getting cancer. But they need
not worry anymore because Professor Bert Vogelstein from John Hopkins
University School of Medicine in Baltimore, USA tells us in a paper he
presented early this year that, “getting cancer is down to sheer bad luck of
acquiring a mutation in a cancer driven gene regardless of lifestyle and
hereditary factors.”
So there it
is and from a professor – his key words being ‘regardless of lifestyle’. What Vogelstein
is telling us is that yes, we are allowed to be slobs. We are allowed to smoke.
We are allowed to eat our fill of red meat and fatty foods. We can drink more
beer than our bodies can handle and that with all those excesses, if we get
cancer, it’s purely bad luck – much I guess like crossing the road at a zebra
crossing and a man pushing the wheel barrow knocks you over dead rather than a
car.
What’s more,
it’s also cool to die from cancer. Richard Smith, former editor of the British
Medical Journal, which is as respected in the medical field as Vogue Magazine
is in the fashion industry lamented when he added to the debate by saying, “if
you are going to die, it’s best to die from cancer because the long slow death
from dementia may be the most awful as you are slowly erased. Death from organ
failure – respiratory, cardiac, or kidney – will have you far too much in
hospital and in the hands of doctors. Death from cancer is the best...you can
say goodbye, reflect on life, leave last messages and it’s a nice romantic way
of dying – all achievable with love, morphine and whiskey.”
Might I be
justified in repeating Smith’s last sentence for the benefit of Slob who missed
it first the time round and for Wifeys, Mums and Girlfies who now want to shoot
me for encouraging their men to become slobs and for glorifying cancer?
I am? Cool. Smith
said when man departs the world arena, he needs some morphine and I guess if
that’s not available, a joint from a pub in Kabalagala would suffice plus some
whiskey. Smith does not however, tell us which brand of whiskey is the best to
depart the world with but, I am sure somebody at Kampala Wines and Spirits will
be kind enough to advise us.
Would they recommend
a Johnnie Walker black perhaps? It’s a tight call, but I am going to opt to die
out with a Jack Daniels and a couple of Tusker Malt beers and I guess some pork
ribs from Wandegeya.
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