James Myburgh, the esteemed editor of this site, has told me that the Politicsweb columnists will be standing down for a month while everyone - well, almost everyone - not Myburgh, not me, and not Jacob G Zuma - goes off to Plett for a well-deserved holiday.

Myburgh is headed for far sunnier climes, Zuma as usual for the wilds of the northern Zulu kingdom, and I have been asked by the mayor of Johannesburg, whose name no one can remember because he keeps such a low profile, to take care of the water and electricity in Johannesburg over the festive season. (I know what you're itching to say, and some of you will say, but I couldn't do a worse job than he, surely?)

At any rate, the time of the year has taken me by surprise.

I hadn't twigged that we are so deep into December already. Tempus fugit, fuggit, as Norman Mailer surely once wrote - as it always does when one is having so much fun. I have not even organised my traditional annual Hanukah/Christmas dinner for important people - aka those who have appeared in my column during the last five months or so.

Well, it's not really "my" dinner. It was something that Karen Bliksem used to do every year for the people who appeared in her column. She used to hold the dinner at her humble cottage in Parkview. People such as Fidel Castro, the late Yasir "that's my baby" Arafat, and Mahmoud "I'm a dinner jacket" Ahmadinejad were wont to attend. I suppose I should do the same as KB.

Karen did tend, I now realise - sometimes you need a bit of distance to understand these things - she tended to repeat the same old menu every year-end: a fresh salad starter, roast lamb, roast potatoes, peas, a touch of mint sauce, and vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. Somewhat passé, certainly not kosher, and not very politically correct - so many people shiver these days when they think of the screaming of the Karoo lambs.

Of course one of the first people I shall invite is the honourable Zuma. My concern is that the other guests at the main "politics table" - Paul Trewhela, RW "Bill" Johnson, George Palmer, even the urbane Stanley "Ace reporter" Uys - will give him a really hard time.

Trewhela will ask about you-know-what and the rest will ask him to report on the state of the nation and combating crime, the (mal)administration of justice, local government, edjamacation, and economic growth and job creation.

Or they're going to ask him about the appointment of creature, Menzi "Mendacious" Simelane (and poor ol' JZ probably had no idea what Jeff Radebe had in mind anyway). A bit of a bummer when all a fellow wants to do is enjoy his nyama and maybe talk, if at all, about nookie.

I mean, I'm sure they're all basically good and honourable men but they are a trifle serious and pessimistic about life in general and especially at the southern tip. We need some lighter spirits.

Talking of which, where do I seat Rian Malan the writer, little Julie Malema of the ANC Yoof Brigades, Fikile Mbalula, Malema's predecessor and the deputy sheriff of the police department (memo to self: check that Mbalula's not packing, or the Parkview cops will get into a snit), and John "Hlophkele" Hlophe, the judge president of the fairest Cape in all the world?

Things could get beaucoup rowdy. Given his fluency and ease, I could ask Peter de Villiers, our rugby coach, to be the main facilitator. Or perhaps David Bullard (aka Brother Bullfinch) and/or Blade Nzimande, the minister of higher education, would be better in that role.

(Memo to self: Two things: whatever you do, don't let Mac ‘the knife" Maharaj, Nzimande, Moe Shaik and "Gebuza" Nyanda sit together at the same table - endless war stories and guffaws about the "let's attack at dawn" incident in Durban. If I hear about Operation Vula again, I am going to plotz. Secondly, ask Nzimande not to come in his official vehicle; you will never live it down if he does; Trewhela will publish another book.)

An even greater difficulty is that there are not too many representatives of the fairer sex. Mind you, that's not really so. There's a token female - Caster Semenya - and there's Margaret Marshall, the Chief Justice of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court, as well as Gill Marcus, the governor of the Reserve Bank, and of course Winnie Madikizela-Mandela, Manto Tshabalala Msimang, and (former?) Jupiter Drawing Room Johannesburg CEO Renée Silverstone, she who was allegedly involved in naughties with First National Bank brands director Derek Carstens. That's a formidable bunch of broads, you have to agree. I might even be able to get a grant from the World Bank for that table.

Wait a minute. I almost forgot that Sarah Palin, that gorgeous, mad woman from Alaska, has appeared in these columns. That'll liven up the party a tad. Maybe she can read from her autobiography - assuming that she can read - and I'll tell my hoary party joke about hunting bears on the taiga with an Uzi.

Still, problems, problems. With whom do I seat Jonathan Jansen, the Rectitude and vice-Chancellor of the University of the Free State? People don't want to be forgiven all the time; they want to get to the bottom of the wine bottle.

I know. I bet Jacob Maroga, formerly of Eishkom, would like to be forgiven, provided such a blessing comes with his previous pay packet for 18 months - and I am sure too that Bobby Godsell wouldn't mind breaking some croissant with young Jake.

Of course I do not have any one from the fourth estate this year, I see. Ah well, let us be thankful for small mercies. Let us, in the immortal words of the poet Adam Small, count our blessings, ou pellie, count them one by one. Have a merry Hanukah and Christmas and a Heppy New Year. Don't forget your medication. Don't drink and drive. DO laugh a lot. See you next year, deo volente.

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