The first time I laid eyes on him, I knew my world would never be the same. Violins began to play, mynahs burst into song, jacarandas blossomed as if there was no tomorrow, and my fallopians went all aquiver.

It was as if I had been transported from the wilderness of non-existence to the majestic palace of existence in an instant. Angelic cherubs, brimming with the passion of a thousand years, accompanied him as he made his way across the barren desert that was my life.

He looked at me, stopped and smiled.

A sharp intake of breath and I was his… forever.

In an exclusive arrangement with Any Random House Publishing, we bring you excerpts from best-selling author Cliftonia Ali’s latest offering

In our long and illustrious history, there has never been one like him. Nowhere in the world has there been a national icon who has truly personified Cliftonian hope. Blessed by the gods of teflon, National Icon & Hope Nazir Jr brings forth nothing but hallowed glory in the eyes of his innumerable followers… and in performing that divinely-inspired duty, he walks in the footsteps of that other misunderstood paragon of revolutionary anti-status quo zeal, Donald Trump.

I still remember that sultry June evening when he came up with the idea of setting up his own menagerie. I told him there were a few rather large menageries already present in the country and that perhaps he could associate himself with those if he wanted to satisfy his love and devotion to eclectic wildlife. He looked stunned.

“You know I don’t play well with others. I want my own set of creatures. I want my own menagerie. How could you even suggest something so ridiculous? Do you have any idea of my struggle? The struggle I’ve undertaken to keep myself entertained while I’ve been with you? Do you know I can easily let you go if I wanted to, but I haven’t yet because I might need you to organise the foreign fundraising campaign for my menagerie,” he said.

“Dear heart, forgive me. You are so right. You are always right. Even when you ran over my foot while backing the car out the driveway and broke my foot into a thousand pieces, it was my fault,” I replied.

“Don’t exaggerate! The doctor said it was only a few hundred. Trust you to spread fake news. Do you know the sacrifices I’ve made just to stand here and have this conversation with you? I didn’t have to do this. But I’m doing it for you and the people of my country, for the dachshunds of my land, for lentils and sovereignty, for nuclear codes, for the 12 seasons on the border of Germany and Japan, for the sound of speed, and the 23 albino hedgehogs that I want you to procure for my menagerie. So the least you can do is to thank me for bringing hope into your miserable life.”

Dear heart, forgive me. You are so right. You are always right. Even when you ran over my foot while backing the car out the driveway and broke my foot into a thousand pieces, it was my fault,” I replied.

“How can I do anything but, my darling? You have given me and our republic so much. No amount of gratitude will suffice. The stars pale in comparison to your lustre… every evening when I sit down to check my blood pressure, I can feel your rants pulsating in my veins. You give meaning to my life, you’re my inspiration,” I meekly submitted.

“Of course, I do! Anyway, for now I want you to focus on this: did you know that we’re being attacked by giant fire-breathing kangaroos? Yes, we are! They want to destroy us by targeting me because they know I am the only soul in this blighted land who will not sell his soul on e-bay!” he screamed.

“What are you talking about, honeybuns?” I asked.

“By the great elephantine testicles of Thor, I pledge to bring prosperity and tax amnesty to every proud Cliftonian millionaire. Give me 90 days and you will see an unshackled Cliftonia, standing proud, tanned and dandruff-free!”

“Oh, how I love you, my darling! Your sincerity and integrity shine through your large, dilated pupils,” I said.

“Beware! Armageddon! Look! Look! The kangaroos are comin’ to get me! We need to stand together! We need to fight… for our rights… to paaaarty!” he screamed as he jumped out the first floor window and into the swimming pool below.

Even though I have no clue what he is ranting about most days, all I know is that I must follow him devoutly, unquestioningly, blindly, no matter what he says. He is my last beacon of delusion before I go back home to Mrs Agha in the constitution-following Republic of Canadia.

My heart breaks when I think of my country… I love Cliftonia so much that I can’t even bear to live there!

Farid Alvie was born.

He currently lives.

He tweets @faridalvie

Published in Dawn, EOS, April 24th, 2022