Gramsci skipped closer. "You mean," he whispered hoarsely, "Jackie Selebi?" Gramsci glanced nervously over his eight shoulders. In the Spy vs Spy saga between the cops and the good guys, anything you said was likely to be taken down and used in evidence against whomever was in the rifle sights at the moment.
The Cow nodded. "It seems so," she sighed. "His wife and girlfriend, as well as their kids, were the recipients of the latest dirty money aired in the press."
Gramsci shook his head sadly. "Perhaps the State should be more like the Catholic Church," he suggested, "and only appoint the celibate?"
The Cow snorted. "Just think of the costs of defending all the paedophilia claims!" she retorted. "That's unlikely to work out cheaper!"
"I suppose we should be thankful it's druglords and not taxpayers funding it," Gramsci sighed. "Though i suppose we do end up paying for it, through the legal costs of the trials and the subsequent accommodation costs of the guilty."
The Cow shuddered. Shaik's accommodation and medical costs were probably enough to run a small Third World country - or at least, one whose leadership was getting its women and children funded elsewise.
"Still," she mused, "it would be interesting to know who funded uMalume's latest: the lobola, the wedding, and presumably the First-Lady-in-Waiting outfits."
Gramsci chuckled. "I'm sure there are no end of applicants for that vacancy!" he mused. "After all, the next government will have lots of business on offer..."