An Apocryphal Political Tale from UAP

Meneer Botho, junior raconteur of Vesterino’s (second only to ‘Bonehead’), tells of the apocryphal tale whispered about from the Ugandoid Autonomous Prefecture’s election season in Stratum III:

From the rustic entangawuuzi farmlands of the Ugandoid Autonomous Prefecture, Omugaali was a man who dreamed of power. He recently made official his candidacy for Grand Gouvernor in the upcoming elections. Though he was of agri-peasant stock himself, he felt above his station yet still needed that “everyman” support. (Proles and peons vote too, y’know.)
  From those same back-country plains was a man named Oku Almeyne, a talented musician who couldn’t hold a real job due to his excessive taste for distilled millet potations. But the purple prose of Candidate Omugaali resonated with Almeyne, who wanted both to cleave to power-seekers as well as claim fame for himself.
  Both men recognised the mutual benefits each had to one another and a plan was hatched.
  An election rally was to be held at the Entebbe Fairgrounds where Oku Almeyne would perform on his electric balafon for crowds hungry for musical flair and political platitudes alike. A rousing speech by Omugaali was to follow the performance.

  The day came and the throngs gathered in anticipation. On stage, minor political toadies feebly tried to warm up the audience for the awaited entertainment.
  But where was Oku Almeyne?
  He was found backstage drunk and out of his gourd. The event’s handlers tried to rouse him as he babbled and slurred. They managed to prop him up in a rickety office chair.
  The eager crowd roared at the sight of Almeyne being wheeled up to his electric balafon. They quieted as he struck the opening notes of “In the Pillory Again,” his regional hit song.
  He then paused, leaned forward and proceeded to vomit all over his instrument.

  Onlookers gasped as globules of today’s lunch and rivulets of millet brew spattered all over the stage. A sour waft of bile was quickly picked up by the summer breeze, eliciting howls of disgust by everyone downwind or within eyeshot.
  Almeyne slumped face-first into the foul ejecta as stagehands tried to pull him away from the stinking mess. The crowd was in full uproar as their state of inebriation was not too far off from Almeyne’s own.
  Omugaali quickly strode across the stage and grabbed the mic.
  “I’ve a good feeling about the UAP, don’t you?” he pleaded with a plastic grin. “Pardon us for the intestinal difficulties, but... uh, this is a great campaign and I thank you for attending...”
  The hundreds of music fans weren’t even booing at this point — just bellowing louder in revulsion as they fled the grounds...

“...Anyway, that’s how I remember it,” Botho concluded. “Omugaali actually won the election and served one term as UAP Grand Gouvernor. Oku Almeyne went on to have more hit songs after cleaning up his act. For a time.
  “But you’ll never read a word about that rally. The UAP media machine quashed all mention and sanitised all comm channels of this. And who’s gonna believe a bunch of drunk concertgoers?
  “I think Western media could take a few lessons on sifting out from mass consumption the sordid details of our beloved political leaders, don’t you?”