Hey look, my fork and spoon joined the Miss Uganda debate!

This morning over breakfast, my fork and spoon joined the hottest conversation in town lately; the dissection of the new Miss Uganda.

Fork: She’s ugly. She looks like a Musoga, even.  

Spoon: Indeed she looks like a Musoga! You just have a colonized idea of beauty. She is beautiful in exactly the way an African should look. 

Fork: Waa? She’s just the way only half an African should look. She needs some curves somewhere.

Spoon: Anyway, she has inner beauty

Fork: You mean she has cute intestines and a sleek kidney?

Spoon: Idiot, she graduated magma cum laude in computer engineering. And when you wake her up at night, she doesn’t scrowl at you. Infact she’s not one to need coffee before she can smile in the morning.

Fork: Irrere. It was not a national science contest or a canonization of saints. A beauty contest is exactly that. They had a girl called Flower Violet in the contest. Who chooses a Kalunguka over a Flower Violet in a beauty contest?

Spoon: The UPDF, in its capacity as the overtaker of agricultural extension services. This isn’t about the beauty of just beauty.  This is about promoting Ugandan values; agriculture, militarism --- all that good shit. 
♫ ♫♫Talalalalala… she’s not just a pretty face. She can even milk the cows. ♫♫

Fork: ♫♫♫Nanananah… and when she grows up. She’ll marry Mr Uganda. Who’ll hunt a squirrel or two… in the boot camp to stardom. Nananana… she’s not just a pretty face. And he won’t be, just a heap of brawn.” ♫♫♫

Spoon: You are just disturbed by the ghost of the Brazillian who haunts you asking for her hair back.

Fork: Well, perhaps the new Miss Agro-Militia can learn a thing or two from me. When you don’t have it, fake it. That way, only FatBoy hates on your weave not the entire Ugandan internet.

Spoon: Okay, you win. But fuck, did I just spoon your fake eyelash into the mouth of the madame de la maison? We are so screwed!

Madame de la maison: Okay, kids. I’ll now let you join the rest of your family over here for the rest of the day. Enjoy it. 

Madame de la Maison speaks under her breath:   We really should not be holding beauty contests. What shit is that? Hey, lady; step over there and I will gawk at you for a few minutes before I decide if you are worthier of my gawking than the other ladies in line. What shit is that? It just ruins my mornings and several days of my interneting.