Lies. Let us go beneath them with a recap of last night’s episode.
But before we do that, I must apologise to whoever gives a shit for not recapping episode two. In the spirit of the show, I will do so with an absurd falsehood. I was in Spain training the stuntmen for the next Bourne flick and could not make it back in time because the pilot of our private jet was from Leeds and, well, Brexit things. That is a lie. Beneath it, we present, recap of Episode Three.
We open with a shot of Salvado Idringi in the nude.
Heh heh. Got Lokodo all worked up for nothing, eh
After that we have this: Omara– I mean Paul Mukasa with his shoes on the bedsheets fiddling with a phone while the call girl Kaitesi sleeps on the bed. Is this how we get those funny photos which Fedde likes sending to all his whatsapp groups? We told him we don’t want them. The group is called Apostles For Change. All the videos everyone else sends are of Joyce Meyer and Joseph Prince fully clothed. Why does he feel he needs to buck the trend by sending us Zari. Nobody wants Zari naked.
Anyway, we have misread the situation. He is not taking photos of her. It is not a phone. It is a knife. Not sure if that is better or worse unless you have been in that situation. Then decide– do you prefer to have your nudes leak, or your blood?
This is a different show from the ones we have been watching, meanwhile. This is another level now. I am tempted to fall into regular TV-critic parlance to describe what I am feeling after watching this scene, but I promised mummy I would not be a critic any more so let me just put it this way. I watched Justified (Season 3) just before this. And I still feel like I am in the same space.
Kwegamba, the show is becoming better.
First let us cut to another scene which opens with someone sleeping so we can be alarmed by the fact that Eleanor is in this show is well.
Eleanor Nabwiso, one of Uganda’s finest actors, and one of your favourites.
She is just here to show you that she is here. Sneering and snapping at the figure on the bed, one of those maids who are the maid but they snap at you like no fucks are given. We shall further explore this dynamic later and find out where the fucks are and why no one is distributing them.
Now, back to Justified. Mukasa and Kaitesi go through a complex and intricate dance of half-said, paralinguistical interactions to establish the foundation of what will doubtless be an intriguing relationship … paralinguistical? It means like a form of language that is not merely talking. Like when you tell a person whose life you saved that no, you don’t want sex in return, but then you order them to make you breakfast, and then they don’t thank you for saving their life but they make you eggs. That kind of communication we call it paralinguistics. It is common among those of us who pull guns on human traffickers and rescue tall damsels. Anyway.
I just want to point out that this Paul Mukasa man claimed he was going to brew strong coffee while Kaitesi makes him breakfast but look at this.
That is the Coffee?
What the fuck. That is not a question. Nuclear Puke! Radical retch! Eugh! What the freaking fucking crap of shit! Star Coffee? Did I pay Yaka to have that on my flat screen?
Okay, breathe. This Paul Mukasa is a character. He is a goon who carries a gun and rescues call girls and is transfixed on a white muzungu preacher on TV and is dubiously, sinisterly intense and wierd. Psycho mafaka. Perhaps psychos don’t like decent coffee and prefer to drink that shit which is like brewing soil.
I hate star coffee.
And here we bring you the quote of the day: Steven Amaru asks his wife, “How many Simons do you know?”
She is a call girl. She knows them all.
I saw a ledger kept by an old schoolmate of mine who ran an escort agency in Kiwatule. 87 Per cent of the client list is called Simon. It’s not the same Simon. Different ones.
Now another entrance to the screen worth commenting on with exclamation mark
It’s that chick from CSI!
Now speaking of entrances, here comes Hellen Lukoma to steal the scene. From anther to stigma. This is what they call a performance. I have given her an Emmy. Take it. This scene right here.
Amaru asks her: “What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk?”
And the answer, which is yes, is delivered in the best possible way for a drunk, distressed mistress can deliver a drunk confession of drunkenness. Emmy, woman, take It!
The end scene, especially the self-cutting scene (It’s not suicide attempt. It is self mutilation. Suicide is down the street, not across the road. I know this because I wasted a lot of time with Eminem when I was younger.)
You people, this is the first episode we are watching for the first time. The other two we already saw as if saw last year. This is the new BTL, the reloaded one. It is better! Not just the technical lights and sound and angles and stuff. It is better. Lukoma and Omara brought buckets of it and stole scenes.
Now, that is the end of my recap. See you next post.