I called Arnold Asaba up and he let me post this

This week I have a special guest. You may remember him if you were literate in the earlier days of the Ugandan press, which is when he was the original Slim Shady: as career misogynist of the Sunday Magazine, his column The Blue Corner tickled and infuriated tens of thousands of... you know what, lemme just post the thing. I found it when I was spring-cleaning my c-drive. The Blue Corner by Arnold Asaba. Originally published in the Sunday Vision something like a bunch of years ago.

A bunch of the guys were talking (I love the sound of that phrase. So poetic!) and the conversation took a strange turn and ended up on a very uncommon subject: sex and violence. Specifically, whether any of us would get into a fight if anyone offended our significant other.

Consensus around the table was that it would "depend". Except in the case of one guy who said, categorically, that there was no way he was going to ever get into a fight.

Why? We asked. His reply: "I am too pretty."

Strangely enough, the discussion did not immediately veer off into the validity of that statement. We resisted the temptation to tell him to stop dreaming, and instead followed—let's call him John's -- statement, on exactly what fighting would depend on.

Not on whether the guy was bigger than him, but on whether his girl has been behaving in a way that is worth being beaten up over.

"If she has been acting funny," he said, "then she is alone."

What exactly did acting funny entail? "You know the way chicks are," he replied. And we understood exactly. You have been suffering the evil eye because of some innocent crack you made about her pot belly, and now she wants you to get thrashed?

Why do women say that they want men to be gentlemanly, to shun our violent instincts and behave civilised, then turn around and ask us to get pummeled on their behalf?

If the aggressor was in the wrong, there would perhaps be a case to argue, but sometimes, it is pure ego on the part of the lady. The guy accidentally bumps into her and spills her drink. He apologises immediately, but she is not satisfied that he means it. She decides that he deserves a blasting.

In the course of this blasting, something rude comes out about the guy. The guy replies with something even ruder about her. And being a guy, his something is definitely going to be ruder than hers.

She loses her mind and fetches you. "This s.o.b. just insulted me!"

If you are John, you ask, "What did he call you?"

"He called me a bitch." It looks like a draw now, but she wants the match to go on.

So you (John) go up to the guy and ask why he saw fit to call your woman a bitch. He explains that it was in response to her calling him an idiot and saying his mother was a malaya. What do you say next?

"Man, you chill her. She's crazy, she loses her mind and says stupid things like that. Forget about it. You just go on with your business."

In doing this, you are looking out for everyone's best interests. Your girl's because you have to take her home, and it won't be safe to drive with blood gushing into your eyes, obscuring your vision. Your own interests, too, because you like your blood to stay inside, not out. The other guy's interests as well, because, even though he is bigger than you, you could still manage to land some blows and cause some damage before he finishes you off. You are being logical and kind, but does the missus realise this? No way. Now both you and the guy are s.o.b.s.

Well, you and the guy now have plenty in common. Your mothers ostensibly share a species, and both your girlfriends are mad at you because you haven't done the manly thing.