Britain’s media establishment, the self-same ones that had been saying how bad you were, that you were a ruthless dictator and killer who was running the Zimbabwean economy into the ground. And there you were, literally in their sights, ready to be quartered and skewered. And what did they do?

One after another they stood up to ask you interminable questions about what you were doing to foster investor confidence, the size of the previous year’s harves

Looking at what has happened to Zimbabwe since Robert Mugabe assumed control of that country over twenty years ago is very depressing. There are times when I am tempted to write to him to tell him what I think of him and what he has done to that nation. But he doesn't know me and how would such a letter reach him?

But I write to him everyday in my mind and in one of those letters I would say to him: "I have been meaning to write to you for some time now, but what with the mass murder by Bush and Blair in Iraq and all manner of grotesqueries spawned by that dastardly act, I have been somewhat otherwise occupied.

However, I said to myself just today, “This pushing-it-off business ends now. I have to drop Robbie a line - and what better time than the present.”

So, here it is. It’s a bit long so, if you want, do get a glass of whatever it is that presidents-for-life drink.

Knowing you, I believe you will take particular exception to my addressing you as “Robbie” - I mean, what with all that Father of the Nation and President-for-Life shit, it would be understandable. It’s not that I have a Little David complex that likes to get up the noses of the rich and powerful and corrupt and irredeemably bad; it’s just that I feel I know you. I was even a fan during the early part of your incumbency.

You will not remember me, of course, but we have met - sort of. And you scared the living daylights out of me. I believe it was in ‘93 or ‘94 or thereabouts, at a news conference organised at the Centrepoint building in Central London. You were in Britain trying to drum up investment for your tail-spinning economy and I was there to cover the event for InterPress Service (IPS).

Muzzled press

The news conference was really a scream. Cast your mind back. Here were assembled the cr?me de la cr?me of Britain’s media establishment, the self-same ones that had been saying how bad you were, that you were a ruthless dictator and killer who was running the Zimbabwean economy into the ground. And there you were, literally in their sights, ready to be quartered and skewered. And what did they do?

One after another they stood up to ask you interminable questions about what you were doing to foster investor confidence, the size of the previous year’s harvest

w, but what with the mass murder by Bush and Blair in Iraq and all manner of grotesqueries spawned by that dastardly act, I have been somewhat otherwise occupied.

However, I said to myself just today, “This pushing-it-off business ends now. I have to drop Robbie a line - and what better time than the present.”

So, here it is. It’s a bit long so, if you want, do get a glass of whatever it is that presidents-for-life drink.

Knowing you, I believe you will take particular exception to my addressing you as “Robbie” - I mean, what with all that Father of the Nation and President-for-Life shit, it would be understandable. It’s not that I have a Little David complex that likes to get up the noses of the rich and powerful and corrupt and irredeemably bad; it’s just that I feel I know you. I was even a fan during the early part of your incumbency.

You will not remember me, of course, but we have met - sort of. And you scared the living daylights out of me. I believe it was in ‘93 or ‘94 or thereabouts, at a news conference organised at the Centrepoint building in Central London. You were in Britain trying to drum up investment for your tail-spinning economy and I was there to cover the event for InterPress Service (IPS).

Muzzled press

The news conference was really a scream. Cast your mind back. Here were assembled the cr?me de la cr?me of Britain’s media establishment, the self-same ones that had been saying how bad you were, that you were a ruthless dictator and killer who was running the Zimbabwean economy into the ground. And there you were, literally in their sights, ready to be quartered and skewered. And what did they do?

One after another they stood up to ask you interminable questions about what you were doing to foster investor confidence, the size of the previous year’s harves

eve you will take particular exception to my addressing you as “Robbie” - I mean, what with all that Father of the Nation and President-for-Life shit, it would be understandable. It’s not that I have a Little David complex that likes to get up the noses of the rich and powerful and corrupt and irredeemably bad; it’s just that I feel I know you. I was even a fan during the early part of your incumbency.

You will not remember me, of course, but we have met - sort of. And you scared the living daylights out of me. I believe it was in ‘93 or ‘94 or thereabouts, at a news conference organised at the Centrepoint building in Central London. You were in Britain trying to drum up investment for your tail-spinning economy and I was there to cover the event for InterPress Service (IPS).

Muzzled press

The news conference was really a scream. Cast your mind back. Here were assembled the cr?me de la cr?me of Britain’s media establishment, the self-same ones that had been saying how bad you were, that you were a ruthless dictator and killer who was running the Zimbabwean economy into the ground. And there you were, literally in their sights, ready to be quartered and skewered. And what did they do?

One after another they stood up to ask you interminable questions about what you were doing to foster investor confidence, the size of the previous year’s harves

t - sort of. And you scared the living daylights out of me. I believe it was in ‘93 or ‘94 or thereabouts, at a news conference organised at the Centrepoint building in Central London. You were in Britain trying to drum up investment for your tail-spinning economy and I was there to cover the event for InterPress Service (IPS).

Muzzled press

The news conference was really a scream. Cast your mind back. Here were assembled the cr?me de la cr?me of Britain’s media establishment, the self-same ones that had been saying how bad you were, that you were a ruthless dictator and killer who was running the Zimbabwean economy into the ground. And there you were, literally in their sights, ready to be quartered and skewered. And what did they do?

One after another they stood up to ask you interminable questions about what you were doing to foster investor confidence, the size of the previous year’s harves

Britain’s media establishment, the self-same ones that had been saying how bad you were, that you were a ruthless dictator and killer who was running the Zimbabwean economy into the ground. And there you were, literally in their sights, ready to be quartered and skewered. And what did they do?

One after another they stood up to ask you interminable questions about what you were doing to foster investor confidence, the size of the previous year’s harvests and the intricacies of endogenous growth theory. True, you were there to raise investment, but I felt you were being given too-smooth-a-ride. At least they could have asked more probing questions and the moderator, whose job it was, could have put proceedings back on course if he felt some of the questions were inappropriate.

You must have been thrilled, to see Britain’s finest being so nice - just like your muzzled press back home. Who needs a media censor when this intrepid bunch would give him a run for his money! I had had enough of this farce. Do you remember the little guy who stood up towards the end and asked you, “Mr President, you have been accused of being a dictator and locking up political opponents. Is this true - and will this not drive away investment?” Well, I was that little guy.

I remember you raising your eyes to look into mine - and my heart stopped. My whole body broke out in a cold sweat. My heart felt constricted. It was like I could hear the boom-boom-boom of my heart. Your bloodshot eyes, your cold stare had that effect on me. I still don’t know what your answer was to that question. I saw your mouth moving, saying something. But I was petrified to even hear, or to make sense of, your words. No doubt, you must have thought, if this guy was in Zimbabwe my boys would have enjoyed playing with him.

You are one tough cookie

We all like to think we are tough. But, like they say, there is always one tougher. And you, Robbie, are one tough cookie. If your stare can immobilise me like that, one can just imagine you in your younger days of guerrilla struggle. I uniquely understand why Britain’s former foreign secretary, Jack Straw, shook your hand last year - a “gaffe” for which he was heavily criticised. Did he have a choice? He must have felt like a hare caught in the headlam