Lawrentian wrestling

 

NAKED wrestlers at the roadside in Gauteng – it's like something from DH Lawrence. Two okeys named Vikus Enslin and Daniel Koen were running starkers down the N1 near the Kroonvaal tollgate late at night when they were spotted by the cops.

 

It was part of an initiation ritual for membership of the African Punishment Wrestling Association. The police car that stopped had in it two male officers and one female. The men were falling about laughing but the policewoman was made of sterner stuff.

 

She made an arrest. And as Enslin tried to struggle back into his trousers, which he'd been carrying, she pulled them off him again, probably interpreting this as an attempt to tamper with evidence (Exhibit A: Een man kaalgat).

 

She then handcuffed Enslin and Koen together. They were taken into the Barrage police station in their underpants, charged with public indecency and released. Next day at the Vanderbijlpark magistrate's court, the prosecutor suggested a plea bargain. They could put on a naked wrestling exhibition at Leeukop prison and charges would be dropped. But our okeys had by now had enough of the Lawrentian lark and decided they'd rather have their day in court.

 

They were sentenced to perform administrative work at the courthouse.

 

Naked wrestlers, handcuffs, bondage – and all on the N1. This is Gauteng! Sometimes KwaZulu-Natal seems a bit of a backwater.

 

Vivid family

 

VINCENT van Gogh had a family tree almost as vivid as his later paintings:

His dizzy aunt - Verti Gogh.
The brother who ate prunes - Gotta Gogh.
The brother who worked at a convenience store - Stop N Gogh.
The grandfather from Yugoslavia - U Gogh.
His magician uncle - Where-diddy Gogh.
His Mexican cousin - A Mee Gogh.
The Mexican cousin's American half-brother - Gring Gogh.
The nephew who drove a stage coach - Wells-far Gogh.
The constipated uncle - Can't Gogh.
The ballroom dancing aunt - Tang Gogh.
The bird lover uncle - Flamin Gogh.
The fruit loving cousin - Man Gogh.
An aunt who taught positive thinking - Way-to-Gogh.
The little bouncy nephew - Poe Gogh.
A sister who loved disco - Go Gogh.
You find this amusing? There ya Gogh!

 

 

 

Green flush

 

Spring is sprung, da grass is riz

I wonder where da boidies is …

 

As we go into the green flush of spring, Linda Vandeverre, of Cowies Hill, wonders who penned these immortal lines. Was it Spike Milligan?

 

No, it wasn't Milligan. The poem is titled The Budding Bronx and is very much in the New York idiom. It's often attributed to Ogden Nash or ee cummings, but in fact nobody knows. The author is anonymous. The lines appear in various forms but I prefer the heavy Bronx version.

 

Da boids is on da wing, or so I hoid,

But dat's absoid,

Da wings is on da boid!

 

Doggerel

 

HERE'S what Nash had to say about it in Spring Comes to Murray Hill:

I sit in an office at 244 Madison Avenue And say to myself You have a responsible job havenue? Why then do you fritter away your time on this doggerel? If you have a sore throat you can cure it by using a good goggeral, If you have a sore foot you can get it fixed by a chiropodist, And you can get your original sin removed by St John the Bopodist, Why then should this flocculent lassitude be incurable? Kansas City, Kansas, proves that even Kansas City needn't always be Missourible. Up up my soul! This inaction is abominable. Perhaps it is the result of disturbances abdominable. The pilgrims settled Massachusetts in 1620 when they landed on a stone hummock. Maybe if they were here now they would settle my stomach. Oh, if I only had the wings of a bird Instead of being confined on Madison Avenue I could soar in a jiffy to Second or Third. Lovely stuff!

 

Tailpiece

 

A DISHY girl approaches a handsome hunk at a cocktail party.

"Hello. My name's Carmen."

"Carmen. That's a lovely name. It sounds like a traditional family name."

"No, I made it up myself. I love cars and I love men. Therefore 'Carmen'. What's your name?"

"BJ Titzengolf."

 

Last word

Well, the telling of jokes is an art of its own, and it always rises from some emotional threat. The best jokes are dangerous, and dangerous because they are in some way truthful.

Kurt Vonnegut