These erudite ladies
IMITATION is the sincerest form of flattery. As mentioned a couple of weeks ago, the Victoria group of Women's Institutes asked me to judge a competition in which members were asked to submit their version of an Idler's column.
That has now happened. The columns sent in were all of them a hoot, all of them decorous. Ogden Nash, the humorous American poet, featured.
The girls were on top form, neck and neck in racing terminology. Marion Hofmeyr, of Darnall, came in a nose ahead with some nice gags and a clever piece comparing failure to act on global warming with failure to turn the taps off in a bathtub that's overflowing, and in which she said she intended installing a punkah – attached to her big toe – to save energy. She also had a very nice picture of her dog at Zinkwazi Beach.
Close behind were Jean Ings, also of Darnall, Yolande van Romburgh, of Northlands, and Isabel Milliner, of – can you believe it? – Darnall. What erudition is to be found on the North Coast. I've taken the liberty of using one of Yolande's gags as Tailpiece to this column.
(Memo to Circulation Manager: Target Darnall).
Hectic honeymoon
DID THE EARTH move for you? A Swedish couple encountered a blizzard, a monsoon, a cyclone, flooding, a bush fire, two earthquakes, a tsunami and a nuclear near-disaster during a four-month honeymoon.
Stefan and Erika Svanstrom were stranded for a night in Munich because of a snowstorm. In Bali, Indonesia, a monsoon kept them indoors for days.
In Australia they encountered forest fires near Perth then flooding at Brisbane. They had to be evacuated at Cairns when a cyclone approached.
They flew to New Zealand, where an earthquake devastated parts of Christchurch, then to Japan. They were sitting in a Tokyo restaurant when the strongest-ever earthquake struck, followed by the tsunami and the nuclear radiation threat.
Stefan and Erika are now back in Stockholm, living quietly.
Mum's the word
BLOOD flows in Fleet Street. Satirical magazine Private Eye tells us Lord Dacre, proprietor of the Daily Mail – "the Robert Mugabe of Fleet Street" – summoned his executives recently for a foul-mouthed shellacking.
He had read a column in the Independent by one Talbot Church, "the man the royals trust", that Prince Phillip suffers from a form of Tourette's Syndrome. Three courtiers had been assigned to watch over him at the royal wedding to prevent any unfortunate four-letter outbursts.
Why had the story been missed? Dacre demanded a double-page spread and the commissioning of an expert analysis.
There were awkward shufflings. Then some brave soul told His Lordship that Talbot Church is a spoof column that parodies the gushings of the regular royal correspondents.
At which His Lordship went apoplectic with rage and threatened sackings if word got out about how he had been fooled. A senior executive has been detailed to impress on staff how vital it is that the story should not leak.
As Private Eye put it: "It would, indeed, be a great shame if word got out. So we shall say no more!"
Yes. Let's keep quiet about it.
Musical muse
IAN GIBSON, poet laureate of Hillcrest, supplies a clerihew (by an unknown writer) comparing the rival merits as composers of Handel and Bononcini.
Some say compared to Bononcini
That Mynheer Handel's but a ninny;
Others aver that he to Handel
Is scarcely fit to hold a candle!
Okay - let's not get to blows over it, fellows!
Tailpiece
BUBBA walks into a doctor's rooms and the receptionist asks what he has.
"Shingles," says Bubba.
She writes down his details and tells him to have a seat.
Fifteen minutes later a nurse aide comes out and asks Bubba what he has.
"Shingles."
She writes down his weight, height and complete medical history and asks him to wait in the examining room.
Half an hour later a nurse comes in and asks Bubba what he has.
"Shingles."
So the nurse gives him a blood test, a blood pressure test and an electro-cardiogram and tells Bubba to take off all his clothes and wait for the doctor.
Half an hour later the doctor comes in and finds Bubba waiting patiently in the nude. He asks what he has.
"Shingles."
"Where?"
"Outside on the truck. Where do you want me to unload 'em?"
Last word
If you cannot convince them, confuse them.
GRAHAM LINSCOTT
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