The damsels of Winklespruit
WINKLESPRUIT is the place to be. Naked women suddenly get spotlighted in suburban gardens. Having announced themselves, they will then plunge into the jacuzzi. To cope with it requires nerves of steel, but Winklespruit is without doubt the most desirable spot on the KwaZulu-Natal coast.
It happened a few weeks ago that a young Winklespruit lady, who had been working on her computer all night and into the early hours, decided she needed a dip in her jacuzzi, in the garden about 20m from the house.
It was about 5am and still pitch dark. She thought it would be fun to do it in her birthday suit. So she shed all her clothes then, as she reached the front door, she noticed her neighbour making for his car. She presumed he was going to work early and, curious, was peering over the fence.
What she forgot was the security lights, which are activated by movement. Suddenly she was caught there in a blaze of light, like a deer startled in a car's headlights. Then she broke away and dived headfirst into the jacuzzi.
What the neighbour thought of it is not known. But, living at Winklespruit, presumably he is a man with nerves of steel.
Cricket first-timer
THIS week I was at Kingsmead for the first time watching Twenty20 cricket live. It was the Mumbai Indians versus the South Australian Redbacks. It was an extraordinary experience, somewhere between a Bangra Rock disco and Guy Fawkes; somewhere between normal day/night cricket and baseball.
Skyrockets, ear-splitting music and nine troupes of dancing girls greeted every six, boundary or wicket fallen. A camera on four wires connected to each of the floodlight towers swooped about the place recording every nuance for the folk back home on the Indian sub-continent. The electronic advertising around the boundary was for Indian products unknown here.
This was a TV production. We spectators there in the flesh were merely incidental.
Yet somehow I don't think there is anything for cricket purists to be alarmed about. This is so different from conventional cricket that it could be on another planet. One will not interfere with the other.
There was a strange excitement as the Redbacks (apparently they are named after a spider in Australia) clawed their way to a win with only three balls to spare. But it seems far-fetched all the same to think this highly contrived, razzamatazz-charged version of the game could ever replace Test cricket and other conventional forms.
Pungent atmosphere
THE ATMOSPHERE at Kingsmead was pungent with gunpowder smoke as rockets were fired overhead on the least provocation. But tobacco smokers – and there seemed to be a lot of them - still had to leave the stands to take a puff in the open air behind.
It highlighted the absurdity of the law (I myself am not a smoker) that forbids people lighting up in sports stadiums, where they are in an enclosed space only by the most ridiculous stretching of the imagination. If the law is an ass, here it is an absolute ass. Possibly a vindictive ass as well.
The Muse stirs
IAN GIBSON, poet laureate of Hillcrest, says he had vowed not to write another limerick involving Julius Malema. But he breaks his vow because the ANC Youth League leader keeps thrusting his opinions down people's throats. Ian also says he is beginning to feel for the ANC, whose woes are multiplying.
The party that is called ANC,
Is riddled with factions, maybe three?
Whilst the moronic Julius,
With claims surely spurious,
Is more of a threat than Vavi.
Tailpiece
A WOMAN asks her doctor for something to ginger up the love life of she and her husband. The doctor prescribes a potent wonderdrug beginning with a V.
"But he'll never take it, doctor. He won't take any medicine."
"Just slip it in his coffee. He'll never know."
She reports back.
"I did as you said. But it was a disaster. I slipped it in his coffee and right away we made passionate love, there on the table."
"What's wrong with that?"
"I can't show my face again in Mugg & Bean."
Last word
Times have not become more violent. They have just become more televised.
GRAHAM LINSCOTT
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