A hairstyle only public works could have built

In the much talked-about stand-off between public protector Thuli Madonsela and national police commissioner Bheki Cele, there's a character who seems to be getting off scot-free, the Minister of Public Works, Gwen Mahlangu-Nkabinde, whose head should also roll.

No matter how much I try to get my head around what Mahlangu-Nkabinde has had to say about the saga of what appears to be an irregular leasing deal between the top echelons of the police and Roux Shabangu, I can't listen to her.

Every time she appears on TV to explain herself, my ears and mind shut. My colleague Ndumiso Ngcobo wrote in a recent column that he can't bring himself to listen to Blade Nzimande.

The Minister of Higher Education, Ngcobo pointed out generously, has said quite a few sensible things, but his voice is so irritating that one has to simply switch off the minute he opens his mouth.

In my case, the sight of Mahlangu-Nkabinde's face sparks a riot in my head and I guffaw uncontrollably, to the bemusement of those who are watching TV with me.

I've laughed out loud at least three times since I started writing this column because I have in front of me a picture of her. In fact, it's not her face that is the problem; it's that hairstyle.

When I see Mahlangu-Nkabinde, I am reminded of a scene in Julius Caesar.

In the wake of Caesar's murder, his supporters are up in arms, hunting down the conspirators behind the daggers which snuffed out the life of the great Caesar.

One of the conspirators behind the murder is a man by the name of Cinna. In their hunt for the conspirators, Caesar's angry followers stumble upon a man who is recognised by one of them as Cinna.

They start pelting him with insults. They are intent on throwing burning torches at him. Some are waving huge, mean-looking clubs at him. He protests his innocence, pointing out that he is, in fact, Cinna the poet, not Cinna the conspirator.

That doesn't save him from the wrath of the masses, with someone screaming out, in Shakespeare's quaint prose, of course: "If he's Cinna the poet, not Cinna the conspirator, well ... kill him for his bad verses."

Being the simple columnist that I am, this whole lease saga is way beyond my comprehension. I don't know who is crooking whom. I don't know if Cele's hands are clean; or if Shabangu is a crook; or if Mahlangu-Nkabinde has something to hide.

All I know, and I will say it now, is that Mahlangu-Nkabinde should, like Cinna the poet, have been punished a long time ago. Not for her professional shortcomings. Not for ineptitude. Not for her corrupt behaviour, if she is corrupt at all. But simply for her weird hairdos.

Each of the hairdos is an affront to those of us who pay our TV licences, only to be confronted with the monstrosity whenever she is required to explain her role in the sorry lease saga.

In the past, people used to complain about Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma's headgear. I think she got the message, and made some subtle changes to her vast collection.

Come on, Auntie Gwen, do you look in the mirror before you leave the house? Better still, sue your hairstylist, get rid of her, get the Hawks to deal with her, take her to the Equality Court for making you look like that, take her to the Human Rights Commission.

She has abused your right to be listened to and taken with a modicum of seriousness. Every time you appear on TV, we can't listen - we either run for the mountains, reach for the remote or simply laugh our heads off. There must be law against such behaviour by a hairstylist or fashion consultant.

Because we have such an entrenched core of politicians whom we can't remove for their ineptitude or corrupt ways, maybe we should start judging them by, and punishing them for, their fashion foibles, the sheer arrogance of appearing in public so badly turned out.

If they can't respect the country's coffers and the country's tendering processes, they should at least respect our fashion sensibilities. Is that asking too much? My friends will tell you I always say: "Don't buy your clothes where you can also buy your yoghurt." To Auntie Gwen, I say: "Don't get your hair done where your poodle's fluff gets fixed."

I am not even going to comment on the tents that Minister of Home Affairs Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula inflicts on us in the belief that they are dresses.

There must be a law against this. We should blame those tents on Gill Marcus, who introduced them to parliament while she was there.

I see Helen Zille's celebrated tea lady, Lindiwe Mazibuko, is packing on the kilograms in the mistaken belief that a big girth is a guaranteed route to a seat in parliament.

Well, yes and no. Yes, you will be in good company if you are generously proportioned around the waist. But, no, we will stop listening to you, and just look at the girth. Shed those kilos. I think you are young enough to endure those hours on the treadmill. Rigorous sessions at the gym are good for you - in all respects, you shall soon find out.

Maybe parliament must set up a Coapa. Not to be confused with Scopa (Standing Committee on Public Accounts), the Committee on Acceptable Public Appearance should draw up a guide to proper grooming and acceptable dress for members of parliament - especially those who appear on TV and give interviews to newspapers.

I think Lindiwe "Feisty Princess" Sisulu should head that committee. No matter where or when she appears, the princess is always breathtakingly turned out. Forget what she has to say - or not say - just watch her. I know of at least one editor who will publish a picture of the princess at the slightest provocation, even if she is mentioned only in passing in a 4cm story.

If they could all be turned out like her, maybe we would listen more to our politicians, and even be more understanding and tolerant of their shenanigans.

Call the fashion police, my fellow-patriots.

I said the fashion police, not the media tribunal.