Estcourt shoot-out
YESTERDAY we featured the account of an unfortunate incident on a guinea fowl shoot at Otto's Bluff, near Maritzburg, when a fellow had his toe shot off and it got eaten by his bull terrier.
Today, in the interests of gun safety, we look at another incident, this time at Estcourt. It had something of the qualities of a duel.
It was another guinea fowl shoot. It had been a long day out in the fields. This fellow had been having a wretched time, failing to bring down a single bird. He got a ribbing when they gathered afterwards for a few beers.
"You know what? If I bend over 100 yards away you couldn't hit my backside!"
This was fighting talk. After a few more beers and a bit more taunting, the original challenger marched away 100 paces and bucked over. Somebody handed the other fellow a shotgun.
What he didn't know was that things had been doctored. The shot had been removed from the cartridges in the gun. Another clean miss was about to be recorded.
But the chap with the gun opened it before taking aim. It was loaded with buckshot cartridges. A bit drastic, he thought, so he switched the buckshot for two birdshot cartridges from his own belt.
Then he drew a bead and – Whammo! – the guy bending over got two barrels of birdshot up the Khyber Pass, as they say in the classics.
The nurses at Estcourt hospital spoke about the case for a long time afterwards as the Tweezer Marathon.
Durban boy
THE ENGLAND cricket selectors have selected Nicky Compton to tour India – and not before time. He's been top of the county batting stats for a while now.
Nicky is, of course, a Durban boy. His grandfather, the great Denis, was a maestro batsman for England as well as a top-flight footballer for Arsenal. His Dad, Richard (also known as "the Compton Boy") and his uncle, Patrick, were both of them gifted cricketers but had the misfortune to grow up in South Africa in the era of sports isolation.
Patrick is cricket scribe on this newspaper. Richard is a former newspaperman who now makes a nuisance of himself in the PR field. Both were stalwart members of the Durban Press XI (until the kit got sold by mistake on a charity jumble sale).
Nicky will acquit himself well, we can be sure of that. He won't send silly text messages to the opposition.
The only slight concern is that, what with Hashim Amla and now Nicky, the side is getting packed with DHS blighters.
Crowned eagle
ZOLTAN de Rosner, of Pennington, says one of his neighbours has come up with a stunning counter to the monkey infestation, which seems to be as bad down the South Coast as it is in Durban.
"He's recorded our resident crowned eagle's cry and when the dear little souls appear he simply turns this on and away they scurry. Monkeys are this large bird's prime diet so get yourself a similar recording or, better still, get yourself a crowned eagle."
Now there's a thought. What a stir in the Street Shelter for the Over-40s if I go in with a crowned eagle on my shoulder.
Cock Robin
MY STARGAZING correspondent, Richard Siedle, is looking for the words of the Fanagalo version of Cock Robin.
I'm able to supply the chorus but it's a long time since my rugby club days and I can remember only fragments.
Is there anyone out there who can supply the full thing? "Who saw him die? … Who'll drink his blood?" – that kind of thing.
I think Richard is arranging a sing-song to celebrate Nasa's groundbreaking current exploratory mission to Mars.
Sex life
OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-40s: "How's your sex life?"
"Like Coca Cola."
"You mean lively and full of bubbles?"
"No. Was Regular. Then Light. Now Zero."
Tailpiece
"Boy, I was sozzled last night!"
"Not as bad as me."
"Much worse. Did you see the girl I went home with? What a horror!"
"Did you see the girl I went home with?"
"Didn't your wife pick you up?"
"Yep."
"Fair point."
Last word
Opera is when a guy gets stabbed in the back and, instead of bleeding, he sings.
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