MAYBE you don’t know, or just maybe you don’t want to read between the lines but with recent pictures of a bare chested Putin flexing muscle, or another talking about the size of his chest, there’s a new breed of leader bosses emerging even in our own country:
“For centuries,” said a gym instructor as he helped an aged politician climb onto a treadmill, “we’ve had those damn brains ruling the world but slowly brawn fought back and today, oh yeah, we’re on a winning streak! Like they say you can’t keep muscle down for long!”
“Ye gads!” I exclaimed, “this is a new thing!” “Oh no, it isn’t! It started with Clinton.
Instead of having photographs of Clinton in the Oval room studiously studying a treaty or nuclear pact, under the picture of a former president, they had him running and jumping and cycling and finally the coup de grace; getting physical with a girl!” “You’re right!” I exclaimed, “and the Americans forgave him!”
“Forgave him!” laughed the gym instructor, “they love him! The world loves brawn, and brawn it is who rule the earth! You want to be boss, have brawn!” I watched as the old politician slowly and unsteadily using the treadmill nearly fell off the speeding machine with the effort he was putting in; he looked with pleading eyes at his instructor.
“No sir, you’ll have to continue if you want to stand for the elections! Do you want to stand?” “Yyyees!” whispered the aged old man.
“Then you’ll have to get rid of that flab, tuck in your tummy, have soccer player like shoulders and get a hair transplant!”
“Hair transplant?” asked the wheezing old man.
“You want to win the elections sir? The electorate aren’t happy with hair only from ears, chest and legs! They want hair where it can be seen!” “But I’m old!” wheezed the old man.
“We’ll have you standing by a pool. Our photographer will air brush your beard like they did with Rahul’s!” “What happened to leaders with brain?” I asked and watched as the old man let out a loud groan, collapsed and fell off the treadmill where he lay very still.
“Leaders with brain? I’ve not seen or heard of any lately!” said the instructor as he got down on his knees and with a helping hand from me pushed the politician to standing position, then propped him up and got him back on the mean machine.
“I think he’s had a heart attack!” I said. “Just hold the old geezer upright on the treadmill, will yah, till our photographer takes a pic of him. He’ll win the elections with that picture by the time he’s out of hospital..!”
