Dear Your Holiness, thrice you have been denied. The last time that happened to a holy guy (who, between you and me, shall remain nameless for now as there are some angry people running around out there with pitchforks at the moment – not to worry though – not about you – it’s a small internal matter about religion and education!), that last episode with the triple whammy thingy did not end well for you-know-who, although it did catapult him up the religious corporate ladder.

We return, however, to more pressing earthly matters concerning your desired visit and particularly your repeated attempts to legally enter the democratic Republic of South Africa for a gathering of illustrious Nobel laureates in Cape Town in October.

While I understand you are a law-abiding man of peace, let me suggest that the universe does sometimes provide opportunities to circumvent the unreasonable demands of man-made immigration barriers. Particularly when these regulations are unjust and unevenly applied depending, of course, on who holds the purse strings.

Make no mistake, I am not suggesting that you do anything bad, mad or evil, but just to put this all into perspective for you I would like to provide a few examples of individuals who have recently found sweet refuge in South Africa. And for a good number of years many of these people managed to live fabulous lives on wine estates or suburban mansions (unfortunately in some cases there has been a terribly high body count as a result, but I digress).

In 2007, a Czech fugitive arrived in Johannesburg from the Seychelles on a false passport. The planets must have been in alignment for Radovan Krejcir, for that is his real name, because the night of his arrest he was incarcerated in police cells in Kempton Park.

Serendipitously (they say nothing on earth happens by accident and I know you would agree) he happened to find himself sharing the cell with a man by the name of George Smith (his real name is actually George Louka and he is a Citizen of Cyprus).

By this time Mr Smith (nudge-nudge wink-wink) had already managed to firmly ensconce himself in South Africa’s criminal underworld and was then associated with the money launderer and strip club owner, Lolly Jackson – he owned a joint called Teasers; you might have heard of it. (Lolly Jackson unfortunately met a tragic end but we leave it there; you know what I mean. But I digress again.)

Krejcir, being new to the country, could not have hoped for a more perfect introduction to its criminal underworld. While Smith set out the lay of the land the two men even managed to order in takeaways – a surf-and-turf meal – from a local steakhouse situated in a casino near the airport. The food was delivered to them in their cell and one can imagine they must have spoken until the early hours of the morning.

Krejcir was released the following morning and went on to carve out – literally – a wonderful life here in South Africa.

But, as you know of all people know best, karma is a bitch, and Mr Krejcir now finds himself embroiled in a lengthy criminal case. It may not end well, but we leave that to the universe.

In case you are not yet convinced, I would like to cite one or two other cases that might motivate you to try alternative methods of entering our country for the conference. The Arch would be mightily pleased to have you here.

A Sicilian mafia boss, Vito Palazzolo, slipped into South Africa from Frankfurt in 1986, travelling under a false passport as Stelio Domenico Frapoli. Apologies, the surname wants to make me guffaw, as it reminds one of those fart pockets you sometimes walk into in a book store… (Sorry, I digress once again. These are serious matters, I do understand.)

There was an international warrant for Mr Palazzolo’s arrest but he managed very quickly to change his name to Roberto von Palace Kolbatschenko. No, really! He went on to purchase a wine farm, produce bottled water everyone in the country who could afford it enjoyed, and live a life of luxury until… yes, karma again. Mr Pallazolo is currently serving time in Italy. It took almost as long to get him there as Mr Nelson Mandela spent time in jail.

More recently, Samantha Lewthwaite – a British Citizen now wanted for her alleged involvement in the siege of the Westgate mall in Kenya – managed to buy a South African passport for R2,000 from a guy in Durban. While Mr Chetty is now securely behind bars, there is always someone who knows someone who knows someone about these matters… Just saying.

You could try crossing the border from a neighbouring country, and may I suggest, if you opt for this route, you give Lesotho a try. The government there is a bit distracted at the moment.

However, if you feel uncomfortable about all or any of these options, may I suggest another legal route? Now, I know you are known globally as the Dalai Lama, the Spiritual Leader of Tibet or as His Holiness. But you were born Lhamo Dondrub. Your religious name is Jetsun Jamphel Ngawang Lobsang Yeshe Tenzin Gyatso.

You see where I am going with this, Your Holiness. You have options.

So, when and if you feel inclined to re-apply for a visa, use one of the above names and refrain from any references to Holiness or spirituality. They don’t like it very much over here.

Oh, and lose the robe, get a pair of shades, grow a moustache – and on the form, where you have to fill in “occupation” don’t write Nobel Laureate. Try Alms Dealer.

Good luck.

Let us know how it goes. DM