… When I am older, I shall marry some ridiculously wealthy – and uber pretentious – man.
A fairytale for Cape Town – published at the request of a dear friend.
We shall live in a huge house in Green Point with uninterrupted views of Cape Town and invite our other, equally pretentious friends to our home and serve them expensive wine and nibbles while they watch some poor, talented black pianist who (gasp!) was born in a township (the poor dear).
We shall congratulate ourselves on how much money we have and ask the pianist’s unsuspecting friends if they have ever holidayed in the Greek islands and whether or not said friends play any musical instruments. When the friends say they do not play any instruments and in fact have not holidayed in the Greek Islands, we shall quickly busy ourselves with our iPhones and wander off to judge them at a safe distance.
We shall also invite self-help gurus who try to charge the pianist and his unsuspecting friends R2600 to attend a “Life Path” seminar – and who will give them a twenty minute sales pitch while having them cornered at the bar.
And, when we are done with that, we will give snobby speeches about the poor, previously disadvantaged pianist who only started playing at 14, darling, can you believe it? We will talk of how we “discovered” him two years ago at a competition that our trust funds, and how we’re so pleased that he’s doing so well.
For. Fuck’s. Sake. You can keep it all.