Tag: ben trovato

When Ben met Max

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No-one likes Max Clifford. Employing him is almost an admission of desperation. And yet he still does what he does and he still makes money. His latest client is Shrien Dewani (he seems like a genuinely nice guy) – the husband of the bride who was killed in unusual circumstances in Cape Town while on honeymoon. Now Mr Dewani finds himself as prime suspect in the murder investigation and his hiring of Clifford hasn’t gone unnoticed by Ben Trovato, who writes the publicist an open letter in today’s Sunday Times:

Dear Max,
Congratulations on doing an excellent job of representing Shrien Dewani, the poor fellow unjustly accused of hiring gunmen to shoot his wife, Anni, in Guguletu last month.

As you said, the whole business stinks of a set-up. It is clearly a conspiracy between the South African government, the police, the prosecutors, the taxi driver, the killers and everyone who lives within 5km of the murder scene. I knew he was innocent the moment he hired you and a lawyer before he was even named as a suspect.

Your unremitting passion for justice has not gone unnoticed. This week, I was asked to find out if you would be interested in representing a gentleman from Uganda. His name is Joseph Kony and he heads a youth group called the Lord’s Resistance Army.
Mr Kony has been wrongfully accused of kidnapping, enslavement, murder, rape and the odd bit of pillaging over a period of 20 years. This is an absolute travesty. He is the nicest person you could hope to meet, a committed Christian who loves horses and long walks on the beach.

It would be a simple matter for a man of your talents to convince the world that the Lord’s Resistance Army is on a mission to spread goodwill throughout central Africa and would never dream of using blunt machetes to hack women and children to death.

I should point out that the International Criminal Court has issued an arrest warrant for Mr Kony. He has been indicted on crimes against humanity which, I am sure you will agree, is a crime against humanity in itself.

You can see what is happening here. The ICC is in the pay of powerful Africanists who hope that by getting Mr Kony to face these trumped-up charges, attention will be diverted from the fact that Africa is a complete basket case and this will be good for tourism and investment. Or something. Feel free to come up with a more plausible explanation.

Should you be reluctant to take on Mr Kony as a client, please be assured that he is a very wealthy man. God has rewarded him for his good deeds. The moment you receive payment, you will have a clearer grasp of the facts.
When you speak to the media, point out that these false accusations have hurt Mr Kony deeply. He is receiving trauma counselling at an undisclosed location in a Congolese forest and will be too upset to appear at any press conferences you may arrange.

Mr Kony wants the truth to come out. However, he has made it clear that he would rather not be there when it does. This is because of his fragile emotional state.

We need to move fast on this. There is money to be made.

Yours truly,
Ben Trovato

Brilliant as ever from Mr Trovato.
Thing is, I can see Clifford happily representing Joseph Kony – as long as he gets his fat fee.

Gutted

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Tuesday: Shower. Breakfast. Traffic. Work. Tea Break. Such is the life of a lab rat.

But with Tuesday tea break comes Ben Trovato’s column in the Cape Times. Today, I open the paper even more eagerly. How will someone with such obvious compassion for those around him and an incomparable understanding of South African cultures handle the recent xenophobic problems?

Surprisingly subtly, actually. But whatever, because then, halfway through the column – the bombshell:

And so, to matters more serious. It is with a heavy heart I inform you of circumstances necessitating that I relinquish this valuable piece of literary real estate with immediate effect.

I read it once. I read it again. And I was left numb. Seriously, Ben Trovato has kept me going through some difficult times since I moved over here. I have all his books and I agree with every sentiment therein – maybe even the bit when he called my car “gay”. I have lived vicariously through his words, possessing neither the bravery (foolishness?) to do the stuff he did nor the literary ability to describe the things I dared not do. And now he’s hanging up his pen.

At times like this, you can either mope, depressed in the knowledge that Tuesdays will never be the same again. Or you can celebrate the chance for a new columnist to fill his boots (something Ben Trovato has been doing for 5 years+).

Well sod your happy-clappy positivity. I’m in mourning.

RIP Ben Trovato. (Unless this is all a big hoax in which case I’m coming after you with a big stick.)
I know that you read me like I read you, so thanks. And all the best.
I hope I’m still going to be able to read you somewhere… sometime.
Otherwise, how will I know what to think?

In memory, I present to you his finest hour:

Why, in the name of God, won’t someone bring Jacob Zuma his machine gun? I can no longer stand by and watch the man suffer like this. Has he not been through enough?
There is an organisation called the Friends of Jacob Zuma, and yet not one of its members is willing to do as he asks. Some friends.

Jacob Zuma has anywhere between two and five wives. But what good is that if none will go the extra mile? Who brings him his pint of Ijuba after another exhausting live concert outside the Pietermartizburg High Court? As a proud Zulu man, he cannot be expected to fetch his own sorghum beer and automatic weapon.

Jacob Zuma is clearly someone who treasures his machine gun above all else. So what of it? He doesn’t ask for much. All he wants is his machine gun.

And maybe the presidency.

I don’t want to sound churlish, but it might help if he told us where he left the damn thing. It must be somewhere. He definitely started out with one, otherwise he would be singing, “bring me a machine gun”. By referring to his machine gun in the possessive, he is telling us that he already has one, but that he has either mislaid it or somebody has moved it from where he last saw it.

Perhaps his machine gun is at his mother-in-law’s house.
Maybe he can’t remember which mother-in-law.

EDIT: Incoming email from Ben Trovato himself suggests that I should look out for the Sunday Times on 8th June. Could it be that he is taking the place of thankfully-sacked columnist Bavid Dullard?
If so, sign me up, Mr Makhanya!!