Tag Archives: Nelson Mandela

The Illuminati

5 Oct

I have always been fascinated by the Illuminati. Do they exist? What are their aims? Do they possess magical powers that I could perhaps borrow? For centuries, the world has speculated if they do actually exist and I am pleased to confirm that they do. ‘How do you know?’ I hear you ask. Well, I was lucky enough to catch a member of the Illuminati ordering a pizza from a phone box the other day. At the end of the call, he pressed a sequence of numbers, (which I later found out cancelled the payment the other end; in essence – free pizza). The man saw me gawping at him in the phone box, and I cajoled him into revealing all about who he was, and the Illuminati. It took quite a lot of negotiation skills, as well as a Pot Noodle. Yes, I went hungry that lunch time, but the things I found out amazed me.

For those of you unaware of what the Illuminati are, this is a brief extract from Wikipedia:

The Illuminati is a name given to several groups, both real (historical) and fictitious. Historically the name refers to the Bavarian Illuminati, an Enlightenment-era secret society founded on May 1, 1776. Since the publication of Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson‘s postmodern science fiction work The Illuminatus! Trilogy, the name has been used to refer to a purported conspiratorial organisation that masterminds events and controls world affairs through governments and corporations to establish a New World Order.

Basically, the Illuminati are bigger than the A-Team and more powerful than Rupert Murdoch and President Obama put together. They run the world.

Here are some interesting facts about the Illuminati which I found out from the stranger I met:

– The symbol of the Illuminati is the owl. Most Illuminati owned buildings resemble an owl in some way; if you look closely, you’ll see it. All Illuminati members have an owl tattooed to the sole of their right foot, with the words ‘we see everything’ underneath. The owl was chosen as a symbol because like the Illuminati, they are rarely seen, they can see all around them and they hunt down their prey with chilling accuracy. Many of the Illuminati have owls as pets, treating them better than most normal household pets. Indeed some member have let their owls sleep on the end of their bed, and give them roast dinners most days. Once a year, the Illuminati hold an Owl Appreciation Day in the underground bunker of the White House. As well as having a fair amount to drink, they all dress as owls, sing songs about owls and shoot anyone that they catch on their highly sensitive listening devices that seems to be slagging off owls in general. It really is a great day.

– As well as the symbol of the owl, they also have the symbol below. The glowing segment at the top represents the Illuminati; top of the world governing pyramid, there is no one above them. The eye, like the owl, symbolises the fact that that can see everything. The phrase as the top of the badge, is Latin for ‘Anal Trauma’. This is because the Illuminati will inflict anal trauma on anyone who crosses them if the offence is not serious enough for them to kill the offender. This can be done in various ways; infiltrating laxatives into every single thing the person eats, sending a small microscopic flying robot into the person’s anus whilst they sleep so that they can control his or her bowel movements and by using a small gun which fires air pressure powerfully into their bum-holes which causes them to instantly soil themselves. The gun method is extremely popular as air pressure is of course invisible, so it’s hard to trace back, unlike a bullet. The motto at the base of the symbol merely reads ‘Houmous, Owls, Cider’; the three favourite things of the Illuminati.

The Governing Pyramid

– The main leader of the Illuminati is a seventy-five year old American named Bobby Gargoyle. His idol is Cyril Sneer from the Racoons, so much so, that Bobby also has a huge pit filled to the brim with money that he swims around in. Bobby’s father and grandfather were both Illuminati members, but unlike Bobby never actually ran the organisation. Bobby got to the top of the Illuminati hierarchy through sheer hard work and desire, but he is also a very intelligent man with a high IQ. He is trained in seven various armed combats and an expert at Sudoku. Some members say it is down to Bobby that the Illuminati are where they are today and he seen as a God in a lot of their eyes. Bobby has dated a string of the world’s most beautiful women; notably Joan Collins. He once also scored twelve 180s in a row when playing darts. He is an all-round super human being.(I haven’t been told to say this).

– Some of the most famous faces in the world have been welcomed into the Illuminati inner sanctum. Past members include JF Kennedy, Elvis Pressley and Michael Jackson and current member include Obama, Marilyn Munroe (yes – she is still alive), Prince Charles, David Jason, Des Lynam, Nelson Mandela, Robson and Jerome, Natasha Kaplinksy and Dog the Bounty Hunter. It was rumoured that Justin Bieber was going to be asked to join to help control the minds of millions of young girls, but it was unanimously decided that he is in fact a massive twat. Instead, they plan on putting a mind control powder into the air vapour trails on aeroplanes, which will float to the ground and control the way people think and act.

– The group believe that they are roughly 75% of the way to achieving New World Order. When they are in full power they believe that freedom of speech will be eradicated and the whole population of the world will have to learn to trade with one another. Money will become obsolete. It’s a scary thought. They hope that people will learn trades or other skills which they can swap with people who grow food or breed livestock. The also hope to abolish France as a country, and sink the Isle of Wight.

– Every Tuesday, the Illuminati erradicate at least 2 members of the public who have spoken badly about them. Every single phone call ever made is tracked, with a highly complex machine being able to detect any calls that mention the word ‘Illuminati’ or ‘New World Order’. As soon as wither of these words are mentioned, alarm bells ring in the Illuminati headquarters, and the call is then saved and relistened to. Anyone making a detrimental comment is traced and terminated, by an Illuminati member dressed as a baboon. This person is known as ‘The Baboon of Justice.

I was not told much more than this, but it was enough. I for one am rather sceptical about if they want to use their power for good, but we’ll soon find out.

Peter Ndlovu's Football Tales – Nelson Mandela's Dinner Party

15 Jul

In February 2000, Nelson Mandela began hosting weekly dinner parties to celebrate 10 years of freedom.
On the third weekend in February it was the turn of the best footballers from each African nation to visit the great man himself. Being a well known Zimbabwean footballer, I had a gut feeling I would be asked to the party and to my delight my invite arrived in the post 4 days before we were due to attend. I was both nervous and excited; not only was I going to enjoy the company of a very special man, I was also going to be sat down with some on my biggest footballing nemesis, all of whom had claimed to be better than me at some time during my career.

The night itself came around very quickly. I opted for a navy suit, white shirt and dark brown belt and shoes. I looked quite dapper if I say so myself; Japhet N’Doram’s wife seemed to think so! Upon arrival, we were ushered through to a large dining area, and I noticed familiar faces straight away. Once everyone was seated, Nelson came into the room and greeted us all individually. “Ah, Peter”, he said as he placed his hands on my shoulders, “Beautiful goal against West Brom in ’95, a superb finish”. I smiled. All I could muster was a “Thank you”, before he moved on.

We started off with a salmon dish. It had a slight chilli taste to it if I remember correctly, but was lovely nonetheless. A sourbet course was not essential a few years back. We used wine and ale to cleanse our pallets like real men should! We moved straight onto the main; roast beef with all the trimmings, Nelson’s personal favourite. I thoroughly enjoyed mine, although the gravy was a little stodgy. Dessert was to be trifle, but we did not get round to eating this, and this is where my story gets rather interesting…..

As the drinks flowed, a few of the more boastful players started to act up. George Weah was giving it some, “I am the greatest African player of all time, I could win against 5 players on my own”, he declared, with food still in his mouth. He was eyeballing me, and several other players as he said this, but because of where we were, few were going to respond until;
“That’s b*llocks”, piped up Rashid Yekini. “I could beat you in a one on one any day, I believe the African Gods have blessed me with talent that no other man possesses”.
It started to get nasty with alcohol fuelled players squaring up to each other, Abedi Pele was screaming “LIAR, LIAR” at Weah, whilst waving a small giraffe ornamental centre piece in the air.

I decided to sit tight and watch the scenes unfold around me. Taribo West, who had managed to blag an invite by posing as Yekini’s girlfriend, was gunning for both Pele and Weah, leaning over the table to get to them. I looked at Hossam Hassan and frowned. He winked back at me but I could see the disbelief in his eyes as to what was happening.

Nelson stood up and thumped his hands down hard on the table. Everyone stopped in their tracks. Abedi Pele was mid sentence, “I’ll prove it to yo……”.

We all stopped and looked at Nelson, waiting for him to say something. He leaned forward slightly, his kaftan hung low revealing his chest. He cleared his throat and said in a deliberate but whispery manner,
“I have a full sized replica goal in the back yard. I will be goalkeeper and you will all take it in turn to take penalties at me. If you miss, you’re out. Score, and you’re through to the next round. We will settle this nonsense once and for all. In my eyes, you are all great players, otherwise you would not be here. But, if you behave like children, I will treat you like children. I hope I have made myself clear. Now, follow me to the back garden.”

I couldn’t believe it. This was unreal. Both Weah and Yekini looked utterly embarrassed but we all followed Mandela out through the double patio doors and into his back garden towards the goal.
“Winnie, Winnie”, he shouted, “Come out. You shall be ball boy”.
Winnie appeared from the kitchen, wearing nothing more than a silk dressing gown. She slipped on some trainers and joined us all outside. “Get yourself behind the goal then Dear”, said Nelson, and she scuttled off behind the net, positioning herself just in front of the conifers.

“Now”, proclaimed Nelson, “Get in line, no arguing. Let’s start this thing”. He pulled a pair of Sondico gloves from his kaftan, slipped them on and asked Roger Milla to tighten the velcro strap for him. We, the players, were all lined up and ready to shoot. I was to take the 7th penalty.

Everyone scored their first penalty. Fabrice Akwa was lucky, Nelson had tipped his shot onto the post but it crept in. The first casualty of the shoot-out was Dennis Oliech, who spooned his shot over and into the grateful arms of Winnie. Others soon followed, even the boastful Yekini fell by the wayside in the 4th round of penalties. I was calm, slotting my kicks home with aplomb and really enjoying myself.

Abedi Pele came third overall. Nelson pushed his shot to safety and it left just two players, myself and Weah to compete in the final. All the other players were sat round watching in anticipation. Nelson was doing the old ‘wobbly legs’ trick to try and put us off. Weah looked at me, “You’re going down, Peter Loser-love”, he snared. I said nothing, I wanted to maintain my focus and stay composed. Weah scored, I scored. Weah scored again, but so did I. This happened for 7 rounds and it was a truly great affair. As George went to take his 8th penalty, Nelson told us to stop. He declared us joint winners in front of everyone. I was happy. I knew I didn’t have to prove myself to anyone; yes, it would have been nice, but I had done well and been declared joint winner.

We were congratulated by our fellow players, and then asked to go back inside for our dessert. I was buzzing, it was a truly great night, being able to blast penalties at Nelson alongside fellow African players, some of whom I regard highly.
As we left that night, Nelson pulled me to one side. “Peter, you were the true winner out there today. A model professional who sees no need to boast”. As he said this, he slipped a small package into my pocket and walked off. The butler handed me my coat and I got into the waiting taxi outside.

I suppose you are wondering what Nelson had given me? Well, I opened up the pink tissue paper, and inside was a fridge magnet. On it, was the poem ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling. I smiled to myself. What a truly amazing day. What a man Nelson is and what a gesture. The magnet still sticks to my fridge and I will cherish it forever.

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