he president is clinging to power tenuously, and the Ramaphoria honeymoon is well and truly over.

Of course, it never was going to last. Ramaphoria, I mean.

Ramaphoria is the warm, fuzzy feeling that washed over South Africa with the ascension of Cyril Ramaphosa to the presidency.

The sun came out, the rand surged, optimism soared. But Ramaphoria was never going to be the same high-octane potion as the Rainbow Nation mampoer that South Africans got vrot on.

The Ramaphosa gilding of the ANC is already wearing off in patches, exposing the same old tacky plastic below.

The rand is in retreat. The public mood is again turning rancorous.

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