Tuesday, November 8, 2011

The Idler, Monday, November 7, 2011

We are not amused

A PAIR OF bloomers once worn by Queen Victoria fetched almost £10 000 at an auction in Edinburgh. That was more than three times the reserve price put on them by the auction house. They went to an anonymous purchaser.

They had been part of a vast collection of royal memorabilia owned by the Forbes family, the American publishing dynasty responsible for the Forbes Rich List.

But there's something decidedly weird about all this. People who steal women's knickers off washing lines are spoken to sternly by magistrates and usually ordered to undergo psychological counselling. But rich folk like the Forbes family buy and sell very personal royal undergarments and it's treated as normal.

What did the Forbes family do with the royal bloomers? Were they on display in a glass cabinet? What is the new owner going to do with them?

Ah, the mystique of royalty. If I were to auction my Y-fronts in one of the hostelries tonight, I'd be lucky to raise the price of a pint of beer. Get royalty into the equation and they just throw money at you.

We are not amused.

 

Beehive drama

IT SEEMS we have a lot of bug experts out there. I'm obliged to Chanel Rampartab, Hugh Heron, Trish Dinkelmann and Trevor Thompson for some fascinating information about the Death's Head Hawk Moth (Acherontia atropos) that paid Cheryl Johnson a Halloween visit.

It seems the species has a much wider range than she thought, occurring all over Africa, Madagascar, Asia and parts of Europe. It is common around Durban.

Yes, it does squeak. And it seems it uses that squeak to con its way into beehives, imitating the piping of the queen bee, which immobilises the guard bees. It then gorges itself on the honey.

Trevor keeps bees at Umhlali and he first encountered a Death's Head Hawk Moth while removing a swarm of feral bees. His Xhosa assistants fled in terror when they saw it because they've been fed the story that you die an excruciating death if it bites you. This has been put about by the sangomas to discourage people from robbing the wild hives, which they consider to be their own.

The moth apparently cons its way into the hive, as described. When the bees discover they've been tricked they're unable to sting it because loose scales on its wings deny them a proper purchase and they're unable to deploy their sting. So it gorges itself like crazy on the honey.

But at some point it drops off to sleep. And then the bees creep up and glue its feet to the honeycombs with propolis, the resin they collect to repair the hive. The moth is trapped and the bees proceed to entomb him in propolis and smother him. Then they cut him into tiny pieces and drag the bits outside.

A somewhat horrible process. Nature is red in tooth and claw.

Breakthrough

 

LAST week we explored the idea of legalising the sale of rhino horn so that Chinese men can be provided their sexual get-up-and-go muti and the poaching can be eliminated.

 

Reader Michel Pearce now points out that a simpler and conservation-friendly solution could be at hand. A pamphlet that is being handed out at traffics lights on behalf of a Dr Ziwa Ali and Mama Shanita promises "100 percent guaranteed, permanent results with no side-effects ... bring back your lost lover ... troubled relationships he/she ... attract someone you love ..."

 

Also – and this is the clincher – "importance".

 

Dr Ziwa Ali and Mama Shanita have a cure for importance? Today Malema, tomorrow the world? Michel says the good doctor and the good mama must be in line for the Nobel Prize.

 

Going begging

 

READER Graham Rudolph says he has four tickets going begging for the Robbie Knievel event at Ellis Park, Johannesburg, next weekend.

 

Knievel (son of American stuntman Evel Knievel) is going to try to jump over 1 000 Malema supporters with a Caterpillar D-9 bulldozer.

 

 

 

Tailpiece

 

TWO COCKNEY owls are playing pool. One misses a shot and says: "That's two 'its, mate!" His mate: "Two 'its to who?"

 

Last word

 

Live in such a way that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot to the town gossip.

Will Rogers

 

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