HANG on to your bras, hide your razors and deodorant: a second wave of peace is about to hit Cape Town.
It’s bad enough that we’ve been subjected to the hipsters with their undersized skinny jeans and oversized trust funds at an assortment of cafes discussing the philosophy of philosophy.
Now the real hippies are coming to town. And they want to spread love, peace and meditation throughout Africa. They also want to set up a base here. I’m glad the International Centre of Peace will be housed in Somerset West. Nothing much ever happens on that side, so let them deal with the hairy legs brigade.
I hope their neighbourhood watches are up to speed and their radio control devices in working order. I suspect they will have many reports of “strange” activity in the area: “Control, control. Come in control! Over.”
“Control here. Send your report. Over.”
“There appears to be a naked lady dancing down the street. And planting daisies as she goes along. Oh my, she’s just – gasp – flashed a peace sign at me. Over.”
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for peace and love. I consider myself fairly open minded, but I draw the line at hairy legs anytime outside of winter.
I’m afraid that if enough of the city’s hippy retirees dust off their fringed leathers and join forces, we may be in for a shock.
People may think they’re harmless and that their ramblings are just a result of watching too many Dr Phil episodes. That is until they overthrow the government, change the constitution to force everyone to hug one another, eat lentils and wear sandals that are bound to make your feet smelly.
They’re going to bang on our doors at 3pm – they’re way too lazy to wake up earlier – and search our houses. They’ll confiscate all our hair removal products, then the bras, girdles and tailored suits. Anything that could accentuate body shape. They’ll disrobe, sing Kumbaya while playing the sitar. And if we still haven’t given in to their way of doing things, they’ll force feed us tofu.
Then they’ll have everyone quit their jobs and grow aubergines and tie-dye stuff all day.
If the old hippies start growing their hair again – well, what’s left of it – it’s time to worry. If President Jacob Zuma wears a tie-dyed shirt at his next public appearance, we’ll know it’s over.
Of course, I could be completely wrong. Either way, I don’t trust hippies. So as a precaution, I’m going to round up a few troops, wait for their arrival and redirect them to the N1 and they’ll eventually end up in Joburg. People there are way too uptight to ever entertain hippy notions.