Ten to midnight - the hour cometh (Yes, that's my final answer)

Nairobi, 14th December 2010. Night sky full of clouds looks like it'll be a wet night. DJ/housekeeper Imelda is getting our dinner ready while playing Yvonne Chaka Chaka's I'm Burning Up (are you ready). Before that we listened to Everyday the Same by Nine Inch Nails. My dear mummy came over earlier for lunch unannounced but that was still fab. I know I'm the favourite because she once whispered to me 'it's a parent's duty to always protect the weakest child'. That's her perception of me that I've since exploited most of my life, thank you very much.

At 1400 hrs tomorrow ICC Prosecutor Luis Moreno-Ocampo is set to name the six prominent Kenyans he wants tried for perpetrating, financing and masterminding Kenya's horrific post-election violence. William Ruto MP came back from a recce to Den Haag recently leaving political commentators confounded as to what he hoped to achieve. I liken it to the exploratory call you make to a buddy the day after a serious drinking session when you can't remember what you did. Anyway what's certain is that it was an opportunity to eat pancakes and buy cheese and clogs for his family. Once again absent-minded Kenyan journalists missed an opportunity at the return press conference to ask him if he's ever been to a gay bar. Christiane Amanpour would never have let that pass. Without a doubt this rockstar of Kenyan politics now besieged by the prospect of so much litigation, well, statistics say one of those charges may stick.

To those who care for my personal opinion can I just say that I have come to detest Mr Ruto's ways of introducing dangerous dimensions outside the rules of the game whenever he feels isolated. It's just not cricket. Please Father, Forgive Them - the crowd that went to the airport to give him a 'hero's' welcome - for they know not what they can't do. Lately Mr Ruto has taken on the look of a very scared pussy at the hands of merciless blood-sucking lawyers. Some analysts say he is also emerging as a weak chess player who has been wrongly advised to go for over-exposure. It's so easy to tell the politicians who got the least cuddles as kids because they just can't get enough of the limelight.

I'm reminded about the story of a sheep and a chicken who both lived on a farm. One day they heard the farmer's wife planning a big dinner party with friends. Chicken spent the evening mocking sheep saying that mutton infused with rosemary (the herb not the she, lol) would have to be the main course because it was a large gathering. However the next day the party was cancelled but the farmer's wife still decided to give her small family a treat. Yep, you guessed right - she served up coronation chicken for lunch. Moral of the story - warlords, you are the weakest link, now fuck off. I know, it's a little tenuous but I'm sure you still get my drift.

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