NOW HERE'S a wheeze. I'm about to go into a $25 million business
partnership with one of the wabenzis of Africa.
No, I haven't been caught by one of these Nigerian money scams. This
approach comes from Morris Taylor, son of Charles Taylor of Liberia,
currently on trial before the International Court of Justice at the
Hague. This is a known character.
It was Charles Taylor who gave the model, Naomi Campbell, a gift of
blood diamonds while they were having dinner with Nelson Mandela in
Pretoria. This is a man with connections, a high roller.
Morris tells me there's a bit of strife in the family, his
half-brothers having hijacked most of their father's properties and
investments. He recently managed to visit his father in prison to
explain what was going on.
"For the first time I saw my father weep . It was very touchy. He
spoke to his lawyer and instruct him what to do, later, the lawyer
handed me documents which he said containing a deeds of lodgment. (Box
of money) in a security company somewhere in Europe, He cautioned me
not to spend the money or invest in Europe and urge me to find
investment in South Africa for security reasons. I have since then
visited the security company with the documents and they confirmed
everything on my favour and we are ready to release upon my request.
"I have as well visited your country on our father's instructions
briefly and it is indeed a wonderful place to invest. I decided to
write and solicit for your assistance to help us invest this money in
your country. The money in question is about 25 million United States
dollars."
Okay, his grammar's not all that hot, but this is a man of action.
What can go wrong? Let's roll, baby!
Safety first
HEALTH and safety strikes again. A cricket club in Hampshire, England,
has been ordered either to move from where it has been playing for 175
years or erect high nets to protect people from big hits, plus hire a
person with a loudhailer to warn passers-by.
Lymington Cricket Club points out that no spectator or passer-by has
been injured during the estimated 1.8 million balls bowled at the
sports ground, but the local council still want them to move.
Perhaps they have things the wrong way round. No person should be
allowed to walk the streets in the vicinity unless wearing batting
helmet, pads, elbow and thigh pad and box.
That's failsafe.
Dick Usher
I'M DEEPLY saddened to hear of the death, down in the Karoo, of my old
colleague and friend, Dick Usher. His laid-back insouciance and quirky
humour in the bleak days of rock-ribbed apartheid in the 1970s – when
the security police seemed to be breathing down everyone's neck –
lightened matters a little.
Dick had spent time in America and his mannerisms were those of
Woodstock. His ambulatory processes as he prowled the newsroom
reminded me of the Pink Panther, He was very funny without even
trying.
He was a devotee of Monty Python's Flying Circus, and my abiding
memory is of him singing in a pub the Philosophers' Drinking Song,
from the University of Wallamaloo, in Australia.
Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
who was very rarely stable.
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
who could drink you under the table.
David Hume could out-consume
Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel,
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
who was just as sloshed as Schlegel.
There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya
'bout the raisin' of the wrist.
Socrates himself was permanently p***ed.
John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
after half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it away,
'alf a crate of whisky every day!
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,
and Hobbes was fond of his dram.
And Rene Descartes was a drunken f**t:
"I drink, therefore I am."
Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed;
A lovely little thinker, but a bugger when he's p***ed.
This is for Dick. (Sorry about the stars, but that's how things are).
Tailpiece
Doctor:"Your tonsils have to be removed."
Patient: "I want a second opinion."
Doctor: "Okay. You're damn ugly too."
Last word
As I grow older, I regret to say that a detestable habit of thinking
seems to be getting a hold of me.
H Rider Haggard
No comments:
Post a Comment