Guyanese should get ready for the coming British Invasion. Apologies are extended to the old-timers (make that mature people) for getting their hopes up; it is not a reincarnation, or memory lane (Penny Lane, Abbey Road, Long and Winding Road) tour, of those four lads from the Merseyside, the Beatles. It is something sleeker, more prestigious, and much more costly. Instead of singing, this invasion would raise questions that cry for answers; even ones sure to be laced with lies.
It starts at a base tag of $325 thousand (green ones), and for some added creature comforts, the final out-of-pocket closes out at the nice round figure of four hundred thousand U.S. dollars. As the equivalent of an $80 million (Guyana) status symbol plus shipping, insurance and the rest, that is beyond the reach and dreams of poor weary peons in this country. They would have to settle for something more pedestrian and unglamorous. On the other hand, $80 million is chump change for the smart money and smarter moneymen in this country; it is not even a droplet in the immense vats of cash they oversee. Due to circumstances (government watchfulness and stringencies), those many vats of foreign cash have had to be hidden away to support cries of poverty, cash flow squeeze, forex shortage, and the never-ending litany of creative claims of financial calamities bedeviling the honest hardworking interests (hint: check for sarcasm) in this country. Since May 2015, it has been a case of hit the road Jack….
Given that the money can no longer be openly splurged in the local arena, there is no better way for the cornered and corralled cash cows than to splash $80 million on a foreign trophy, while at the same time stick tongue and finger in the face of the government. The truly unceremonious might even contemplate mooning the government through some outrageous version of that evergreen political favourite called back-ballin. They can drop pants and do so while power opening the cargo areas (lots of space for cash shipments). Incidentally, there are the added features of driving through twenty-one inches of water, which makes Quamina and New Market Streets navigable after the downpours; and can move in uninhibited fashion where snow is present. For the untutored, snow in this instance has nothing to do with meteorology, and everything to do with street slang for a certain kind of powder. This is a presentation of a luxurious and a rich arriviste statement, it would be improper to taint things with dirty words such as narcotics and illicit drugs. Snow should suffice.
Editor, I introduce the new Rolls Royce Cullinan SUV, compliments of BMW by way of London town. If the Germans and English can put aside ancient differences and join to give the world the ultimate in luxury motoring, I am positive that the men who took their cash underground can arrange a JV (joint venture) with government, like they did so successfully before. In this way, a la Rodney King, everybody can go along to get along; like before the principals are reminded: don’t worry, be happy, as everything is gonna be all right. Bob Marley guarantees that, too.
The expenditure is all upside: cash gets to be cleaned; jobs are provided; taxes paid (well, some of it); inventory turns around; accountants do their tricks (make that magic); and the economy flourishes. Think of this: a round dozen of those splendid chariots is one billion going through various washing cycles and at different speeds. That is a lot of economic activity. Like the man sang: everyday would be like a holiday. Here is another thought: several of those Rolls turning up before the National Assembly for its honourable occupants to disembark is sure to be a treat for the throngs of commoners. I do not foresee parking being a problem, as many Guyanese would gladly surrender their spaces so that the elected men and women of the people are not inconvenienced. No parliamentarian (government or opposition) should have any difficulty explaining (if they care to) how he or she is able to afford a Rolls Royce Cullinan. Having put themselves first (more on that later) with hundred million dollar digs and duty-free wheels, the local fat cats with fat bank accounts (undeclared) and fat appetites (physically obvious) are sure to be most at home in the opulent surroundings afforded by the Rolls Royce Cullinan. For the rest of the peasants, the Japanese will have to do; or a Morris Oxford; and when all else fails a minibus. The music should inspire: One day at a time, sweet Jesus.