If you have been a person with functioning eyes over the past twelve months, then you are aware of a TV show called Beneath The Lies.
Starring an ensemble of Ugandan celebrities and Raba Daba as well, this crime drama was poised to be the Kampala Scandal. CSI Kampala. House of Matatu. The serial dramedy that will rock your televisions and make them shake off their wall mountings.
Because you have a flat screen TV that hangs off the wall. Don’t watch Flavia on a ki-CRT 12 inch as if you lack schooling. Really. If you don’t have a flat screen, you should only watch Kisti.
The cast of Beneath The Lies was its main drawing point before it landed. “They got everybody!” squealed Nava’s biggest fanboy before he collapsed and drowned in a pool of his own tears.
Gaetano’s greatest stan instantly ovulated.
Omara’s biggest fan grew three cup sizes in glee.
Lukoma’s biggest fan smiled calmly to himself and used his ipad to click “like” on his facebook page. Lukoma’s biggest fan is mentally stable and not given to hysterical overractions.
Then after two episodes, the show vanished. The story is that haters broke into the company’s vaults and stole the entire show.
So what are we going to do? I, Ernest “S-Dot” Bazanye, am here to manufacure, an adequate alternative, which I call Above The Truth.
Starring an ensemble cast of all the celebs who didn’t get called to be in Beneath The Lies.
This is Episode One
(Oh, I didn’t tell you that the show is not going to be on TV. It’s going to be on this blog. I have no budget.)
FATBOY in bed with REMA. REMA is a musician of some renown. Trust me. People like her.
FATBOY: Grunt. Smack lips. Drool. Fart. Grunt. Snore. Drool. Snort.
REMA: All this for two minutes?
FATBOY: Mmmmmm. Amitu kwon kal kede ninu. Mmmmm.
SHEEBA in Ninja Outfit climbs over fence and sneaks into compound. Then breaks into house, and sneaks off with FATBOY’s Samsung Tablet.
Scene Three: Back in the bedroom
FATBOY: Grunt. Snore.
REMA: What’s that noise?
FATBOY: I’m sleeping, woman. Don’t talk. I don’t like it when women talk.
REMA: See your life. I just heard a noise in the sitting room. Someone is stealing your shit, nigga
FATBOY: Fuck. Go see who it is.
REMA: Eh eh! Why don’t you go?
FATBOY: I am a celebrity and I am in my boxers. The thief might take a photo.
REMA: Your nudies won’t even get half a like, Jimmy. Your nudies will just get unfollowed. If Lokodo wants people to support his bill, he should show Uganda your nudies. Then everyone will agree that we need to protect the children from certain sights. Jimmy, photos of you naked will make the internet just give up and go back to hell. The satellite which carries the bites across the internet will fall out of the sky if we send it your nudies. Jimmy, your nudies…
FATBOY: Okay, okay, I get it. That is why I don’t want women to talk. They say things I don’t like hearing. I am a sexist.
REMA: As a sexist who believes in gender roles, be a man and go check the sitting room.
FATBOY: If I don’t make it, Rema, tell Melanie I always loved her.
REMA: Everybody knows that.
Scene Four: Sitting Room
FATBOY dives behind sofa. Peeps out. Sees no one. Somersaults to table. Peeps from under. Sees no one. Now that the slapstick humour is done, he gets up and turns on the light. Viewers see why he is called Fatboy. Guy even has four moobs. Like two pairs of man boobs. And they are in two bras. He has fur all over. Except for his outtie bellybutton.
He looks out of the window and sees the woman running off. He squints his eyes like Bruce Willis.
REMA enters the room.
FATBOY: She ran off with my tab.
REMA: We call the cops?
FATBOY: Pass me my phone. Is there bundle for whatsapp?
REMA: Dude, you can’t whatsapp the police.
FATBOY: I am not whatsapping the police. I am bringing in my personal security consultants.
Deadly music chimes. Suspense ensues.
Let me go and make up the rest.