Dead White Guy

Tendai Huchu

aPhiri was a man who liked to live a simple life. He did not enjoy strife, and had arranged everything around him so that his life would be as easy and as peaceful as possible. This he did in certain practical ways; his wife, amaPhiri, went to work while he stayed behind to look after the home. They had no children because even the issue of his loins could not be arsed to swim very far. This, of course, meant he did not have to expend energy in rearing his progeny like some of his less fortunate friends. aPhiri did very little around the house, preferring his wife, who could not stand a mess, to do it instead.
In many ways the Phiri household was happy and comfortable. On Sundays, aPhiri would relax at home, where he had the full Sky Sports package, and wait for his friends to visit. This particular Sunday, being a Ford Super Sunday, Nato was in very early with a case of their favourite beer, Stella Artois.
‘I’m telling you Chelsea have a problem on the central left,’ Nato said.
‘What does that even mean?’ aPhiri replied.

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