Sunday, April 15, 2012

The Idler, Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Natal Command – more controversy

 

IT SEEMS there'll always be controversy about the Natal Command site. There was controversy back in the 1930s when Oswald Pirow, then Minister of Defence, had it built.

 

Critics said it was a sitting duck standing there on the shoreline. Enemy warships would be able to shell it from beyond the horizon.

 

That never did happen, perhaps because the Nazis had got wind of Pirow's plan to equip the army with mule carts with Vickers machineguns mounted. It wouldn't do to be provocative, invite retaliation from a force as lethal and technologically advanced as this.

 

Pirow was a controversial figure who had met Hitler during the 30s, was totally captivated by him and returned to South Africa declaring that the Fuehrer was "a saint".

 

He disappeared from the scene in the political whirlpool leading up to our declaring war on Germany, which many considered a good thing. Temperamentally, he was not really the man to lead the armed forces against the Nazis.

 

Controversy continues. Will the Natal Command site become a film studio, as originally planned, or will it become whatever it is the other fellow wants?

 

People should not be alarmed if shells start landing from beyond the horizon. It could be the opening salvoes of a court action. But if the shelling is accompanied by people dashing about in mule carts, firing Vickers machineguns, it's more likely to be just somebody making a movie.

 

 

Nice touch

 

IT WAS A nice touch the way Neptune Collonges, this year's photofinish winner of the Grand National steeplechase at Aintree, was paraded through his home village of Ditcheat, Somerset, the next day.

 

Neptune Collonges – the first grey to win the Grand National in 60 years – was given applause and congratulatory pats by the hundreds of villagers as he was led about. He took it in his stride, showing no skittishness at all.

 

Where was jockey Daryl Jacob? Probably in the pub, a TV interviewer was told.

 

Then Neptune Collonges was given a rousing three cheers as he was led away – no doubt to join jockey Jacob in the pub.

 

Sign of the times

 

RON LEGG, of Hillcrest, notes that at a recent inter-varsity rugby game between Stellenbosch Maties and a visiting team, a female student was seen holding up a poster that read: "Ma, stuur petrol!"

 

This is a sure indicator that the price of petrol is hurting, he says. The classic cry of students: "Send money!' has been replaced by a more urgent need.

 

It reminds him of something in Reader's Digest some years back when the price of petrol became an equally costly challenge.

 

"Harry can't think of what to give his girlfriend for her birthday. 'Oh', she says, 'Just take me some place expensive.' So he drops her off at a petrol station."

 

 

Snakes alive!

IT'S NOT MUCH fun sharing an aeroplane cockpit with a snake. Australian pilot Braden Blennerhassett had just taken off from Darwin in his twin-engine aircraft when he saw the snake's head dart out from under the dashboard.

A disjointed conversation with air traffic control followed – disjointed because the snake's head kept popping out near the "transmit" button, which he had to press to talk to the control tower.

Eventually he got his message across and was told to return and land. But by the time he got into his approach, the snake had come out and was crawling down his leg.

Blennerhassett got the plane down then sprang out of the cockpit as soon as he could, and ran. But firefighters and wildlife officials, who had been called, have since been unable to locate the snake, wherever its new hiding place might be.

Blennerhassett's scheduled trip to Peppimenarti, in the far north, has been put on hold until the snake is found. Yes, at the very least it needs to be issued with a proper ticket. We can't have these snakes travelling about unregulated.

Tailpiece

 

 

Last word

I sent the club a wire stating, PLEASE ACCEPT MY RESIGNATION. I DON'T WANT TO BELONG TO ANY CLUB THAT WILL ACCEPT ME AS A MEMBER.

Groucho Marx

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