The Idler, Thursday, June 23

Durban's winter games

THE WINTER solstice – shortest day of the year – was approaching earlier this week as a fair crowd crammed into St Clements restaurant, on the Berea, to celebrate International Short Story Day and take on board a glass or two of claret to keep at bay the chill.

The St Clements mob – mainly folk involved in wordsmithery, music and the arts generally – had staged a short story competition with a difference. These short stories had to be 100 words or less – roughly three paragraphs. It is a hard discipline.

Organiser Pieter Scholtz (formerly of the Drama Department at UKZN, Durban) had put the thing on the internet and entries came in from as far afield as Nigeria. There were more than 100 and adjudicator Kobus Moolman (English Department, UKZN, Maritzburg) had bitten off more than he'd bargained for.

But what a great evening. Lots of red wine, nosh and hilarity. A whole lot of entries were read out loud and the rest will be read next Monday. Inevitably, many entries were poetry disguised as a short story but this in no way detracted from their quality.

Winner was local advertising personality Brett Beiles. His story – Doing the Maths – has a bit of robust language, which unfortunately has to be blanked out by this family newspaper.

·         Me and my minder had become tjommies. So I took him a half-jack to say thanks for going easy on me. It was my last shift of 96 hours' community service – gardening – at the local cop shop.

 

I gave him the bottle before I started grafting. He downed the whole blerrie lot in one shot – at nine bells! Then he f****n passed out – right there – in my poppies. So the kolonel tuned me to f***f home cos there was nobody to watch me.

 

S**t, now I must go back next Saturday to do my last eight hours. Blerrie meths!

I also liked Scholtz's own contribution, Repartee.

·         Don't you wish you could say something really clever? Just once? I do.

I once encountered a man. We were walking towards each other. Both in a hurry. I stopped. So did he. I stepped aside to let him pass. So did he. Simultaneously. I stepped aside again to let him pass. So did he. It happened a third time. All in the blink of an eye. No three blinks! We stopped face to face. He smiled. "Just once more then I really must go". He walked past me and away.

I wish I had thought of that.

Plus Andrew Verster's Letter From An Uncle.

·         When you read this I'll be side by side with your Aunt, though whether she will talk to me is another matter. Already they will be saying, poor thing, he didn't see the bus, always thinking of something else. When she died, my world stopped. She was my moon and stars, my laughter and tears. Without her, life had no sparkle. I've decided to leave now before I become bored while life still has something to offer. I am not sending this by fastmail in case it should arrive at an awkward moment and cast a shadow over the funeral.

Great stuff!

 

Traffic scenes

 

THE SCENE is morning rush hour at the Tollgate bridge. The traffic lights at both ends are in flashing malfunction mode. Yet the traffic is moving briskly. At each intersection a metro police officer is on point duty.

 

The scene is evening rush hour on the same day at Tollgate bridge. The traffic lights at both ends are still in flashing malfunction mode. The traffic is chaotic. It's 6pm and the metro officers have knocked off.

 

Gallantry beyond the call of duty.

 

Blue Bulls

 

APPARENTLY there still is a possibility of the Blue Bulls going to the play-offs of the Super 15 rugby. That's if they pay for their own tickets and sit in the grandstand to watch.

 

People can be so cruel.

 

 

Tailpiece

AN ATTRACTIVE girl goes into the doctor's rooms, chaperoned by an old crone. "We've come for an examination."