Dateline: London, a city where the rain tastes faintly of gin and the Metropolitan Police have better things to do than sort out your bicycle theft. But apparently, they have found time to become the world's most unlikely whistleblowers, passing intelligence to Pretoria about their own top coppers' alleged fondness for dipping into the nation's coffers. Yes, readers, it seems the constabulary of the United Kingdom have become the moral compass of the Southern Hemisphere, a role they are about as qualified for as I am to give a TED Talk on sobriety.
The scandal, which has all the hallmarks of a Netflix thriller except with more khaki and fewer attractive leads, involves the South African Police Service (SAPS) and accusations that some of its highest-ranking officials have been treating the treasury like a personal piggy bank for everything from luxury vehicles to questionable holiday homes. The British, through an intelligence-sharing agreement no doubt signed over a lukewarm cup of tea and a stale biscuit, have provided documents that allegedly show a pattern of corruption so egregious it would make a Victorian workhouse master blush.
Now, let us pause to appreciate the sheer chutzpah of this situation. The British police, an institution whose own recent history includes allegations of institutional racism, cover-ups of child sexual exploitation, and a penchant for losing evidence faster than I lose my train of thought after a double gin, are now the paragons of virtue handing down judgments from on high. It is as if I, after a particularly heavy night at the Dog and Duck, started lecturing the Archbishop of Canterbury on the perils of intoxication.
But no matter. The intelligence, apparently, is solid. It points to a network of bribery and kickbacks within the SAPS leadership that would make the Zondo Commission look like a parish council meeting. The British intelligence community, which spends its days monitoring Russian submarines and intercepting the communications of teenagers who torrent movies, has apparently turned its attention to the brave men and women of the South African constabulary. And what have they found? That some of these officers have been more interested in lining their own pockets than in catching actual criminals. Quelle surprise.
The South African government, ever the responsive servant of the people, has promised a full investigation. Which, in translation, means that they will form a commission, which will hold hearings, which will produce a report, which will be filed away in a dusty cabinet somewhere in Pretoria, never to see the light of day. Meanwhile, the accused officers will continue to draw their salaries, attend their golf days, and occasionally pose for photographs at crime scenes they have no intention of solving.
I, for one, welcome our British overlords and their moral superiority. Perhaps next they can provide intelligence on where the missing Eskom billions went. Or who exactly is paying for the Gupta family's legal fees. Or why my local post office has been closed for three years for 'renovations'. The possibilities are endless.
But until then, we must content ourselves with this latest development. A scandal that proves, once again, that the only thing more corrupt than a South African policeman is a British one with a grudge and a photocopier. Cheers.
