IN what amounted to an embarrassing, if tacit admission that he's at a loss for words about what to do next, Jacob Zuma has asked South Africans what they'd want him to say in his state of the nation address on Thursday. 

As a statement put it, "As part of the preparations, the President invites inputs and suggestions through social media on issues people consider important for their well-being and those of their communities that should be included in the speech."

Judging by the subsequent Twitter thread, most of those who responded to the invitation wanted Zuma to tender his resignation in the speech - but not before he had scrapped e-tolling, paid back the money for the Nkandla upgrades, and lifted the prohibition of dagga.

Here at the Mahogany Ridge, we regard the latter suggestion as being the most sensible. Dagga is, after all, a wonderful drug. Even members of the SA Police Service swear by it, and those who are tasked with burning confiscated bales of the stuff often talk movingly of how relaxed and giggly they feel at such times. 

However, among dagga's many other properties, or "side effects", perhaps the most remarkable are economic. One only has to spend a few minutes searching the Internet to appreciate that decriminalisation has liberated a staggering amount of money from drug gangs and black markets and put it instead into the public purse. Think of it like this: with prohibition, you get criminals dealing outside the schools, whereas proceeds from a legal, regulated trade builds the schools.

And dagga may actually come in quite handy on Thursday evening. This year, the SONA budget has been cut by more than half - from R9-million in 2014 to R4-million. The presidential gala dinner - previously a nob job at the convention centre - has been scrapped in favour of cocktail parties in the parliamentary compound. 

The drink at these soirees has, however, been limited to 640 bottles of wine for about 1 700 guests. That's about a 250ml glass, or a scant three units of alcohol per person. Where's the fun in that?

Some of the regulars here believe such tight-fistedness with the booze could be a precaution against Julius Malema and his Red Shirts becoming drunk and unruly and running amok in what would normally have been an occasion of some genteel levity. Anyone who has ever witnessed the Commander-in-Chief in his cups will attest that it is not a pretty business. Light-hearted remarks and gentle ribbing are clearly out of the question, and much dagga is needed at such times.

For all this, the ruling party continues to struggle in its public relations battle with the Economic Freedom Fighters. 

First there was the attempt to ban the EFF from wearing workers' uniforms in Parliament, arguing that it was not only indecorous, but also that their hard hats could be used as "missiles". As ANC deputy chief whip Doris Dlakude put it at a multi-party sub-committee to revise parliamentary rules, somewhat unconvincingly, "They are dangerous, they are weapons." 

Malema was furious. "If they don't want them," he said, "we'll take off those overalls and walk naked. If that's what they want to see, they will see it. We are not going to dress like colonial masters ... I am wearing an overall, it's clean and I am not smelly. I'm actually smelling better than many other people who are wearing suits there."

It may have been that frightening possibility, a nude but fragrant CIC leading an equally naked caucus into the National Assembly, that resulted in a small triumph for common sense, and the committee ruled the EFF could wear their overalls.

But it is persisting with other proposals to smarten up parliamentary protocol, and one of these is that MPs should bow to the Speaker whenever entering or leaving the assembly.

Naturally this has angered the Red Shirts. EFF MP Mbuyiseni Ndlozi explained, "I am not comfortable bowing to anyone. I can't bow to anyone or anything. It's in the Ten Commandments." The party's chief whip, Floyd Shivambu, agreed. "We must rid Parliament of these meaningless Westminster cultural practices," he said. "As a matter of principle, I can't bow to anything under the sun. Or under the sea."

Other MPs, however, were not above a bit of grovelling. Dlakude, for example, declared that she was a Christian, but yes, she had no objections. And even though he was a practising Hindu, the Inkatha Freedom Party chief whip Narend Singh said he too would be prepared to bow to the Speaker.

Which must have been of some relief to Speaker Baleka Mbete, who chaired the rules subcommittee. Some deference is better than none, after all.

This article first appeared in the Weekend Argus.

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