Captain Cook Friday, March 19

WELL, here we go again. Four points chalked up from five games, four of which we could have/should have won. That's 16 points we could have/should have had on the board, putting us right up near the top and heading for a semi-final spot. Yet here we languish near the bottom. It's a most perplexing thing when a star-studded side just forgets how to win.

We probably will pull it off tomorrow against Otago. Actually we have a good record at the House of Pain and they will be the ones feeling jetlag, having just returned from Zuid Afrika. We have to win some time. Don't we?

If not, it is definitely a case for Professor Khalid and Dr Maama Aisha, two mystic gentlemen who pushed a leaflet under the windscreen of my car this week. Their impressive skills – derived from Africa, India and Arabia - appear to be what just what our boys need.

Some of what these gentlemen offer is, I imagine, beyond the side's needs. "We make men's penis big and strong permanently" – this does not really address the issue, and I've not heard of any problems in this regard. "Penis or vagina itching all the time" similarly is part not applicable and probably not what is causing us to lose.

But how about: "Do you have a court case you want to win?" Well, not a court case but a rugby match certainly.

"Do you want to win casino?" Yep, the Super-14 is very much a lottery.

"Take away bad luck and give good luck." You said it, buddy. Some of the calls against us have been atrocious bad luck.

"Take away witches." Right on! Takathi is the only way to explain it.

"Bring back stolen and lost items." Again, right on! They're talking about that ref who robbed us in Sydney.

I must send this leaflet round to the NRU.

Meanwhile, Six Nations rugby again lifted the spirits last weekend. Ireland-Wales was an absolute cracker. So was England-Scotland. How nice to see rugby again with eight forwards piling into the ruck on either side instead of being strung out across the field. Fast and error-free too, the backs running onto the ball at speed. Sometimes I think we're losing it in the Super-14.

Scotland played out of their socks and were desperately unlucky only to draw. It brought to mind the first time I saw them play England. It was years ago at Twickenham and they won the Calcutta Cup. Later in a pub down on the Thames their supporters were making merry.

A huge Scot suddenly blocked the doorway. "I'll show ye what I think of England!" he roared. Then he turned round, hitched up his kilt and mooned. 'Twas a horrid sight.

Later I was in conversation at the bar with a very entertaining Irishman, who suddenly whirled round and seized this other fellow by the nose. He hung on grimly, it was like Kipling's story of the elephant and the crocodile. It turned out this other bloke was a pickpocket and he had the Irishman's wallet. We took it off him and the landlord pitched him out so hard he nearly went into the river. Them were the days.

Ireland-Scotland tomorrow, then England-France, Agincourt revisited. They've renamed the Filler – Boots 'n All or something like that – and they've got a stunning blonde waitress who plays the fiddle. See you there!

The Idler, Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Too-fat passenger

AMERICA'S concern about obesity appears to have reached new levels with actor and film maker Kevin Smith ordered off an internal air flight because he is "too fat."

It's not clear whether this was due to sheer prejudice against fat men on the part of the captain or whether Smith actually did take the Southwest Airlines flight from Oakland to Burbank over the critical payload. There's also the possibility (reading a garbled statement of apology from the airline) that he failed to book the two seats he normally does for a flight.

Whatever the case, Smith was bumped from the flight, at which he sent out an indignant message to his fans via Twitter: "I broke no regulation, offered no 'safety risk' (What, was I gonna roll on a fellow passenger?)"

It's most puzzling. What parts does Smith play in his own movies? I don't know him or his movies, but it sounds as if [G1] he's immensely fat which, paradoxically, narrows the field. They can't make that many films in America that feature grossly overweight characters, in spite of the national stats.

Has he perhaps starred as a South African policeman?

And another

THE ABOVE recalls an incident of the 1970s when a hugely fat Durban showbiz entrepreneur, known to everyone simply as Fischke, was unable to board a connecting flight to take him to Canada.

This was not due to prejudice against fat folk, it was just that Fischke was unable to fit through the door of the aircraft.

Plus two more

ONCE I was on a charter flight to Ndumu, where a new water scheme was being opened. The great and the good were all invited along.

We landed at Richards Bay to pick up passengers. The aircraft was one of those small twin-engine jobs that carry about a dozen passengers.

The pilot groaned as he spotted two enormously fat provincial MPs waddling across the tarmac. Then he invited me to join him in the vacant co-pilot's seat "to get the trim of the plane right."

Sure enough, it lurched backward as the two new passengers climbed aboard.

Sitting beside him I could hear as he spoke to air traffic control, filing his flight plan as we taxied out. "Twelve passengers, 14 if you count the two fat bastards I've just picked up …"

Anglo-Saxon reserve

ON TV THE other night, Barack Obama embraced various congressmen as the House of Representatives prepared to vote on his health care bill.

Has Anglo-Saxon reserve disappeared in America? Has it disappeared in England without my noticing?

There was a time when I spent long spells in the company of Latinos elsewhere in Africa, where the male embrace and mutual back-slapping were the way we behaved. But I had to be careful to remember when I got back to Joburg that the Anglo-Saxon firm handshake was the thing.

I sense that habits have changed. In fact, I'm sure that when Jacob Zuma met Gordon Brown on the steps of No 10 Downing Street recently they embraced. They certainly smooched each other's wife (Singular, of course – the others were back in Nkandla).

What is this? Is there a good reason why politicians should behave like footballers after a goal? Is there a good reason why footballers should behave like politicians?

And why all this kissing between perfect strangers? Is it something like the way dogs sniff at each others' bottoms?

And now it seems to be all the rage in America as well. Is it not slightly disgusting? Give me the firm Anglo-Saxon handshake!

Rugby recovery

IAN GIBSON, poet laureate of Hillcrest, penned these lines before last Saturday's win at Dunedin. But his sentiments match the process of steady recovery that we hope the win signals.

Show some pity for our battling Sharks,

A team of the brightest rugby sparks;

Add an Aussie ref,

 

Both blind and deaf,

 

It's no wonder they're down in the charts.

 

Eina!

 

ANOTHER bit from Bill Bryson's Bizarre World (Warner Books):

 

When Knud Jensen fell into a barberry patch in Denmark he did it in a big way. At last report doctors had removed almost 24 000 inch-long barberry thorns from him and were still counting."

 

Tailpiece

 

Vet: "Paddy, your cows have got bluetongue."

Paddy: "Begorrah! I didn't even know dey had cellphones."

 

Last word

 

A witty saying proves nothing.

Voltaire

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

 

 

Too-fat passenger

AMERICA'S concern about obesity appears to have reached new levels with actor and film maker Kevin Smith ordered off an internal air flight because he is "too fat."

It's not clear whether this was due to sheer prejudice against fat men on the part of the captain or whether Smith actually did take the Southwest Airlines flight from Oakland to Burbank over the critical payload. There's also the possibility (reading a garbled statement of apology from the airline) that he failed to book the two seats he normally does for a flight.

Whatever the case, Smith was bumped from the flight, at which he sent out an indignant message to his fans via Twitter: "I broke no regulation, offered no 'safety risk' (What, was I gonna roll on a fellow passenger?)"

It's most puzzling. What parts does Smith play in his own movies? I don't know him or his movies, but it sounds as if [G1] he's immensely fat which, paradoxically, narrows the field. They can't make that many films in America that feature grossly overweight characters, in spite of the national stats.

Has he perhaps starred as a South African policeman?

And another

THE ABOVE recalls an incident of the 1970s when a hugely fat Durban showbiz entrepreneur, known to everyone simply as Fischke, was unable to board a connecting flight to take him to Canada.

This was not due to prejudice against fat folk, it was just that Fischke was unable to fit through the door of the aircraft.

Plus two more

ONCE I was on a charter flight to Ndumu, where a new water scheme was being opened. The great and the good were all invited along.

We landed at Richards Bay to pick up passengers. The aircraft was one of those small twin-engine jobs that carry about a dozen passengers.

The pilot groaned as he spotted two enormously fat provincial MPs waddling across the tarmac. Then he invited me to join him in the vacant co-pilot's seat "to get the trim of the plane right."

Sure enough, it lurched backward as the two new passengers climbed aboard.

Sitting beside him I could hear as he spoke to air traffic control, filing his flight plan as we taxied out. "Twelve passengers, 14 if you count the two fat bastards I've just picked up …"

Anglo-Saxon reserve

ON TV THE other night, Barack Obama embraced various congressmen as the House of Representatives prepared to vote on his health care bill.

Has Anglo-Saxon reserve disappeared in America? Has it disappeared in England without my noticing?

There was a time when I spent long spells in the company of Latinos elsewhere in Africa, where the male embrace and mutual back-slapping were the way we behaved. But I had to be careful to remember when I got back to Joburg that the Anglo-Saxon firm handshake was the thing.

I sense that habits have changed. In fact, I'm sure that when Jacob Zuma met Gordon Brown on the steps of No 10 Downing Street recently they embraced. They certainly smooched each other's wife (Singular, of course – the others were back in Nkandla).

What is this? Is there a good reason why politicians should behave like footballers after a goal? Is there a good reason why footballers should behave like politicians?

And why all this kissing between perfect strangers? Is it something like the way dogs sniff at each others' bottoms?

And now it seems to be all the rage in America as well. Is it not slightly disgusting? Give me the firm Anglo-Saxon handshake!

Rugby recovery

IAN GIBSON, poet laureate of Hillcrest, penned these lines before last Saturday's win at Dunedin. But his sentiments match the process of steady recovery that we hope the win signals.

Show some pity for our battling Sharks,

A team of the brightest rugby sparks;

Add an Aussie ref,

 

Both blind and deaf,

 

It's no wonder they're down in the charts.

 

Eina!

 

ANOTHER bit from Bill Bryson's Bizarre World (Warner Books):

 

When Knud Jensen fell into a barberry patch in Denmark he did it in a big way. At last report doctors had removed almost 24 000 inch-long barberry thorns from him and were still counting."

 

Tailpiece

 

Vet: "Paddy, your cows have got bluetongue."

Paddy: "Begorrah! I didn't even know dey had cellphones."

 

Last word

 

A witty saying proves nothing.

Voltaire

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

 

 

---

 [G1]Mensely fat

---

 

The Idler, Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Mouthful of cash

 

THEY say that if you want to sound really posh, you need to speak English as though you have a mouthful of marbles. Could it be that loose change has the same effect?

 

When former Welsh and British Lions rugby star JPR Williams was asked to blow into a breathalyser recently, the police found he had coins in his mouth which they asked him to remove.

 

The prosecutor told a court in Wales that Williams – an orthopaedic surgeon – had the mistaken belief that the coins, three copper pennies, would interfere with the breathalyser readings. (The poshness or otherwise of his speech was not mentioned).

Williams, who played fullback for Wales in the 1970s and for the Lions in their victorious tour of South Africa in 1974, admitted driving while over the limit and was fined £380 and banned from driving for 17 months.

The case recalls a former Natal winger (of pre World War II vintage) who had the habit, when leaving Maritzburg Collegians late at night, of tipping the night watchman in the car park by popping half-crowns into his mouth.

Why this method of payment was never made clear. But that night watchman probably talked posher than most.

Cold file

THAT same former Natal winger had many an escapade with the police over drinking and driving. One evening he pulled off in his car from outside the Victoria Club, in Longmarket Street, and crashed almost immediately into a parked vehicle.

With great presence of mind, he left the keys in the ignition and the engine running. He ran down the narrow lane that led to the police station and burst in shouting: "My car's been stolen!"

The cops accompanied him to where he'd parked, and there his car was just down the street, pranged but the engine still running.

A mystery. An unsolved case. A cold file. Who would be a cop?

 

Gently foaming

 

I WONDER what gave JPR the idea the coins would fox the breathalyser. As a medical man, you'd expect he'd know better.

 

A fellow I know once crammed Rennies – the antacid tablets – into his mouth as he waited to be breathalysed. The idea was not so much to fox the breathalyser as to give the impression, as the tablets foamed, that he was throwing a fit. He would then, he reasoned, be sent to hospital in an ambulance instead of being breathalysed.

 

Did it work? Well, it never got put to the test. The driver of the vehicle ahead punched the cop in the face as he came up to the window, then dropped his clutch and took off with a screech of wheelspin, the entire roadblock in full pursuit.

 

My pal was left to drive home peacefully, gently foaming at the mouth.

 

Another punch-up

 

JPR WILLIAMS incensed the King's Park crowd in 1974 when, in the British Lions match against Natal, he got into a punch-up with local hero Tommy Bedford. People talked about it for years afterwards – in fact some of them still do.

 

Tommy himself lives in London these days. Evidence in the court case was that JPR had been chauffeur driven to London to spend the day watching rugby, then driven back again. He was picked up by the fuzz as he drove his own car home from where he'd parked it.

 

Could he have been hoisting a few conciliatory pints with Bedford? How ironic if that were so.

 

Malema dilemma

 

MORE from Limerick Len on current events  :

 

The ANC youth leader named Julius

Has a lifestyle that's rather luxurious

His fancy watch,houses and cars

Are being scrutinised by SARS

Which is making Julius quite furious.

 

Half-baked medic

ANOTHER item from Bill Bryson's Bizarre World (Warner Books):

WHEN Dr Ari Roga, a successful physician in Salzburg, Austria, baked a fancy cake for one of his patients, the woman joked that he must had had a professional culinary training. As it turned out, she was right. An investigation revealed that Dr Roga was not a doctor at all, but a pastry chef from Vienna.

Tailpiece

WHY DOESN'T Mexico have an Olympic team? All the Mexicans who can run, jump or swim are in the US.

Last word

 

Why is this thus? What is the reason for this thusness?

Artemus Ward

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

The Idler, Monday, March 22

Taxing matters

 

BRITISH government offices do manage to summon up a sense of humour. Here is the reply from the Inland Revenue department to what must have been a rip-snorter from a certain Mr Addison. (Sent in by reader Sakkie Hattingh).

"Dear Mr Addison,

"I am writing to you to express our thanks for your more than prompt reply to our latest communication, and also to answer some of the points you raise. I will address them, as ever, in order.

"Firstly, I must take issue with your description of our last as a 'begging letter'. It might perhaps more properly be referred to as a 'tax demand'. This is how we at the Inland Revenue have always, for reasons of accuracy, traditionally referred to such documents.

"Secondly, your frustration at our adding to the 'endless stream of crapulent whining and panhandling vomited daily through the letterbox on to the doormat' has been noted. However, whilst I have naturally not seen the other letters to which you refer I would cautiously suggest that their being from 'pauper councils, Lombardy pirate banking houses and pissant gas-mongerers' might indicate that your decision to 'file them next to the toilet in case of emergencies' is at best a little ill-advised. In common with my own organisation, it is unlikely that the senders of these letters do see you as a 'lackwit bumpkin' or, come to that, a 'sodding charity'. More likely they see you as a citizen of Great Britain, with a responsibility to contribute to the upkeep of the nation as a whole.

"Which brings me to my next point. Whilst there may be some spirit of truth in your assertion that the taxes you pay 'go to shore up the canker-blighted, toppling folly that is the Public Services', a moment's rudimentary calculation ought to disabuse you of the notion that the government in any way expects you to 'stump up for the whole damned party' yourself. The estimates you provide for the Chancellor's disbursement of the funds levied by taxation, whilst colourful, are, in fairness, a little off the mark. Less than you seem to imagine is spent on 'junkets for Bunterish lickspittles' and 'dancing whores' whilst far more than you have accounted for is allocated to, for example, 'that
box-ticking facade of a university system.'

"A couple of technical points arising from direct queries: 1. The reason we don't simply write 'Muggins' on the envelope has to do with the vagaries of the postal system; 2. You can rest assured that 'sucking the very marrow of those with nothing else to give' has never been considered as a practice because even if the Personal Allowance didn't render it irrelevant, the sheer
medical logistics involved would make it financially unviable.

"I trust this has helped. In the meantime, whilst I would not in any way wish to influence your decision one way or the other, I ought to point out that even if you did choose to 'give the whole foul jamboree up and go and live in India' you would still owe us the money.

"Please send it to us by Friday.

"Yours sincerely,
"HJ Lee
"Customer Relations."

 

Great reply. And the letter from Mr Addison must have been a humdinger that had them rolling around in the tax office. It's nice to see they take the trouble to reply in kind.

wtw001

Something in common

WHAT do these words have in common: Banana; dresser; grammar; potato; revive; uneven; assess? Look at each word carefully.

It's not that they all have at least two double letters, nor is it the vowel arrangements, tempting though they were at first glance.

In all the words listed, if you take the first letter, place it at the end of the word, and then spell the word backwards, it's the same word.

Hooker invasion

IAN GIBSON, bard of Hillcrest, reflects on the news that hordes of hookers are heading for Durban for the Football World Cup.

A stream of Hookers to invade old Durbs?

To walk our streets and leafy suburbs?

Will the Mayor react

To this challenging fact?

Or leave it to the old colonial nerds?

 

 

Tailpiece

OVERHEARD at an intellectual nudist colony: "Have you read Marx?"

"Yes, it's these darned wicker chairs."

Last word

Procrastination isn't the problem, it's the solution. So procrastinate now, don't put it off.

Ellen DeGeneres

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

The Idler, Friday, March 19, 2010

Hello, Buckingham Palace …

ONE IN TEN British schoolchildren believe Queen Elizabeth invented the telephone, according to a survey just released. Three in 10 believe Sir Isaac Newton invented fire.

They're way off beam, of course. Sir Isaac discovered that apples bounce off your head if you sit under an apple tree. The Queen invented the expression: "My husband and I …"

Yet it's touching that so many children should credit their sovereign with being at the cutting edge of technology.

Perhaps it's time for a similar survey among our own schoolchildren.

Who invented phansela dancing? (Predicted outcome: Nelson Mandela – 90 percent).

Who invented the vuvuzela? (Predicted outcome: Jacob Zuma – 90 percent).

Who activated the whoopee cushion? (Predicted outcome: Julius Malema - 99.99 percent).

Piffling theory

 

SIR ISAAC Newton is a fascinating figure of scientific inquiry. The theory of gravity he developed at Cambridge university he found somewhat piffling; so much so that it took him 30 years to get around to publishing it. He was much more interested in alchemy – the quest to convert base metals into gold.

 

Once published, his theory of gravity revolutionised science and astronomy. It was the stepping stone from which Einstein eventually developed his theory of relativity.

 

That's what happens when you sit under apple trees dreaming of converting iron into gold.

 

Cambridge threesome

 

NEWTON was named by Lord Todd, of Christ College, as one of the three most brilliant students ever at Cambridge

 

The others? John Milton, writer of Paradise Lost; and Jan Smuts, later to become prime minister of South Africa, signatory to the League of Nations and United Nations charters, founder of the philosophical school of Holism and, eventually, Chancellor of Cambridge University.

 

Smuts is still revered world-wide for his intellect. Einstein described him as one of seven people who understood his theory of relativity. His bust stands at Cambridge and tour guides point out the rooms he occupied in college.

 

But he is not honoured in South Africa. The Nats went out of their way to expunge his memory. In his autobiography, Mandela recognised Smuts's genius, but few if any of the current political elite know or care about him.

 

They don't even credit him with inventing the telephone.

 

Ill wind

 

READER Gray Braatvedt predicts that South Africa will be immortalised by the vuvuzela during the Football World Cup.

 

"Soccer fans have used various means over the years to amplify their support for their teams, be it visual and vocal - the Mexican Wave - or purely acoustic - the wooden rattle of English football stadiums in the 50s.

 

"South Africa will be immortalised by the vuvuzela that is best described as 'an ill wind that nobody blows good'."

 

Yes, I think it was Groucho Marx who first used that expression to describe the oboe. But who are we to interfere with local football tradition? The vuvuzela was invented all of five or six years ago.

 

Beach brollies

 

MEANWHILE, we're told they are thinking of issuing beach umbrellas to people taking the sky cart over the arch at the Moses Mabhida stadium, in case it gets stuck again. There's no shade up there.

 

I think I would prefer taking a beach umbrella to the beach. But perhaps, at a pinch, at the stadium it could be used as a parachute.

 

 

Boomer

 

A READER who calls himself Limerick Len sends in some lines on our prolific president.

 

Our 67-year-old president Jacob Zuma

Is a man with plenty of vooma.

His kids now total a score

Or perhaps a few more

Giving new meaning to the term "baby boomer".

 

Cosmetics

 

ALTERNATIVE definitions of lipstick:

 

* On her lips: coloring to enhance the beauty of her mouth.

* On his collar: coloring only a tramp would wear.

Keep asking

 

SOME legitimate questions:

* Why can't women put on mascara with their mouth closed?

* Why you never see the headline: "Psychic wins lottery"?

* Why is "abbreviated" such a long word?

* Why do doctors call what they do "practice"?

* Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?

* Why didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes?

Tailpiece

 

She: "Darling, I've got good news about the car."

 

He: "What's that?"

 

She: "The airbags are working."

 

Last word

 

Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else.

James M. Barrie

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

The Idler, Thursday, March 18, 2010

Cooking in Africa

 

THERE seems to be something magical about Zambian chefs. Last year I was at a lodge in Botswana where the owner told me that if his chef – a Zambian – ever were to leave, he would pack up and leave with him.

 

Sure enough, that very night a busload of 30 Dutch tourists arrived unannounced – a foul-up in the bookings – but the chef was not fazed and fed them all as if he'd been expecting them all along.

 

Now a little book has come my way that tells much the same story about a remote tourist lodge perched precariously on a river bank in Zambia. Guests kept arriving unannounced from all over the world. The electricity supply was erratic, the gas would run out and the place would regularly be besieged by elephants, lions, baboons and other wildlife.

 

But the chefs baked their bread and their pies, in improvised wood stoves made from a 44-gallon drum if necessary. No guest ever was presented the same dish twice during his or her stay. It's got to be a calling.

 

The Derelict House (Just Done Productions – www.justdone.co.za) is the daily diary over five months of Lesley Cripps Thomson, who switched from taking tourism bookings in England to actually doing the thing in the front line.

 

It vividly captures the sounds, smells and colours of Africa; the amiable nonchalance of the local staff, who somehow always got things done in the end. The title comes from the dilapidated building which became her quarters after a lick of paint.

 

Why only five months? Well the tourism season closed in early November before the rains began. The staff went off for their prolonged Christmas break. Then the river came down, altered course permanently and swept away the entire camp – derelict house and all.

 

That's Africa, baby!

 

Time travel

 

DURBAN'S streets are being dug up all over the show, apparently for the installation of new telecommunications infrastructure. Reader Brian Kennedy sends in a letter to householders from the contractor doing the work.

 

"We would like to apologise in advance for any disruption caused in this time and ask for your kind understanding and co-operation during this period."

 

The same letter gives the date of commencement of the work as March 30 and the date of completion as March 17 – yesterday.

 

Think nothing of it – we didn't even notice.

 

 

Tailpiece

 

A man walks out to the street and catches a taxi just going by. He gets into the taxi, and the cabbie says, "Perfect timing. You're just like Frank."

Passenger: "Who?"

Cabbie: "Frank Feldman. He's a guy who did everything right all the time. Like my coming along when you needed a cab, things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time."

Passenger: "There are always a few clouds over everybody."

Cabbie: "Not Frank Feldman. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand Slam at tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star and you should have heard him play the piano. He was an amazing guy."

Passenger: "Sounds like he was something really special."

Cabbie: "There's more. He had a memory like a computer. He remembered everybody's birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order and which fork to eat them with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street blacks out. But Frank Feldman, he could do everything right."
Passenger: "Wow. Some guy then."

Cabbie: "He always knew the quickest way to go in traffic and avoid traffic jams. Not like me, I always seem to get stuck in them. But Frank, he never made a mistake, and he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good. He would never answer her back even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too. He was the perfect man. He never made a mistake. No one could ever measure up to Frank Feldman."

Passenger: "An amazing fellow. How did you meet him?"

Cabbie: "Well, I never actually met Frank. He died. I'm married to his widow."

 

Last word

The most dangerous strategy is to jump a chasm in two leaps.

Benjamin Disraeli

GRAHAM LINSCOTT