Fifteen minutes ago, my boss clicked her manicured fingers at me and said, ?Hey you. Yes, you, the fat one at the back of the class, 473 words, right now. And they?d better be funny.? That?s the way she treats me. She reminds me a lot of Michael Jackson?s father, although, I have to admit, she has yet to use a belt on me .

And so I sat and stared at the keys, petrified, wondering what there was in the world left to laugh about. And then, I remembered an older colleague?s dictum. ?Only write about what you can personally identify with,? he?d told me. So, I asked myself, who is as beautiful ? and talented ? and as persecuted as me? The answer came to me in a flash ? it had been staring me in the face, in fact, since Para One.

Michael Jackson, of course. So here goes.

To begin with, chiefs, I come in peace. But the next person who thinks Michael Jackson is a funny article, will have his nose knocked off, regardless of age or gender. Yeah, I know, that hands you wisecracks a perfectly functional line: ?What about the time his nose fell off onstage??

Hey, you think that?s funny? How would you like your expensively reconstructed organ to let you down at an inconvenient time? I know I?d hate it if it happened to me at my most important activity during office hours: I don?t think I?d to the fullest enjoy human nostrils in my biryani ? particularly if they were my own.

But listen, I grew up with the guy. At around the time I was wetting my pinafores, MJ was hitting notes with the birdlike excellence of, well, a hugely pretty, six-and-a-half-year-old gifted black boy who was both so born to ? and beaten onto ? the showbiz road that he forgot any other way around the world.

It?s often that way. People just have to be a shade above average ? in the looks, talent, wealth, singing or dancing department ? and the world swivels its angry glare on them. From the moment Jackson pulled off that first perfect pirouette on stage, he didn?t stand a chance.

My peer, Mikey, and I, are very close, you know. We?re like that, Jacko and I. And yes, there were endless times when I warned him: ?Hey brother, cut loose from all that crap, man. Stay away from them kids. They ain?t nuthin? but trouble.? He agreed in principle, of course, although he appeared to be shocked by my deep-rooted dislike of anyone below 50. But did he listen? Nosireebob.

And then, look what happened.

But hey, till there is what looks to be a long-drawn verdict ? and even when there is one (from a 12-member jury in which there is not one black person?) ? keep moving, my dancing king. You already hanged and drawn, miserable genius.