Police summons Stella Nnyanzi over “Cyber Harassment” promises to go “dressed to kill”

Dr Stella Nyanzi summoned at Kibuli
Dr Stella Nyanzi summoned at Kibuli
Police on 2nd March wrote to Dr Stella Nyanzi summoning her to Kibuli on Tuesday 7th for grilling and making a statement over “Offensive Communication and Cyber Harassment”. The Dr, made a stern response as she prepares for the D-day.
I have been summoned for interviewing and statement-making at the headquarters of the Criminal Investigations Directorate (CID) in Kibuili. I should buy a new purple coloured lipstick to enhance my smile as I speak with the CID Afandes.
I wonder what colour of kitengi I will wear on that Tuesday morning next week. Perhaps I will visit my tailor tomorrow and order her to make for me a new tight mini-skirt with the longest slit at the front that will expose my juicy brown-skinned thighs. I will also borrow a tighter wonder-bra from my young sister, to hike up my adult breasts so that the nipples on my tutus are re-modeled to be saluting the CID boys throughout the interview.
They state that they are investigating a case of Offensive Communication and Cyber Harassment. This follows from the Computer Misuse Act (2011). Huh! Trust dimwits, nitwits, ijits, idiots, pea-brains, puddle-minds, dwanzies, dafties, dizzy-ducks, imbeciles, fools and all other sorts of shallow-minded people to run to the corrupt police with a case against me.
I don’t give a rat’s arse about these scare crows. I am a writer. I am a poet. I am a lyricist. I am a story teller. I am an author. I am a scholar. I am an academic. I am a voice. I am onomatopoeia. I am speech. I am metaphor. I am simile. I am allegory. I am syntax. I am diction. I am rhetoric. I am a dictionary. I am lexicon. I am a thesaurus. I am a thinker. I am a critique. I am a wordsmith. I am a communicator. I am a typist. I am a scribe. I am a script. I am words. I am spoken word. I am graffiti. I can speak at length about my written and spoken words.
I will go and meet the Deputy Director Investigations. Is he handsome? Is he hot? Will he fall for my adult brown thighs? Will his brain get my words? I will defend my acts of writing, my freedom of expression, my poetic license, my literary justice and my academic freedom.
I slay with words! I fire words. It is futile to attempt to gag or censor or silence me. If they shut me up, I will break into dancing or farting or a raising of my fist. Unless the system cuts out my tongue, and my voice-box too, I will not stop speaking my critique of the dictatorial corrupt lawless and rogue regime of the Musevenis.
“Offensive Communication and Cyber Harassment” my foot!


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