Sunday, September 16, 2012

The Idler, Monday, September 17, 2012

Heyneke's shove ha'penny

 

WHAT a display of two-dimensional ineptitude by the Boks on Saturday. But some are blaming the venue. When you play rugby at a place with a name like Forsyth's Barr, the fellows don't know whether they're supposed to be playing darts, shove ha'penny or bok-bok.

 

"Looks at the scoreboard, man!" Springbok Boy Louw used to riposte in days of yore when the game plan was criticised. Well, we's looksing. And it doesn't looks so good.

 

The old order changeth, yielding place to new … in New Zealand, kick and chase rugby – as developed by the Blue Bulls - shows itself to be absolutely pass√©. In Kimberley, the Griquas grind the once-mighty Blue Bulls Currie Cup side into the devilthorns and dust.

 

The old order changeth … but nobody's told Heyneke.

 

Paddyfield

 

MEANWHILE, rugby made a splash in Durban with the first-ever Currie Cup match in a paddyfield. Our blokes showed themselves to be more adept at converting to being water buffalo than Western Province did and at times seemed to be actually enjoying themselves duck-diving and throwing about that large, slippery, oval-shaped piece of soap they call a ball.

 

Also a first – I'm sure – was Province finishing with 12 men on the field. You couldn't help laughing in those final moments as five Province guys scrummed down ankle-deep in water against our eight, just 5m from their line.

 

But the Province fellows didn't find it at all funny. In fact it was their total lack of humour that earned them two red cards and one yellow.

 

A sad day for rugby. Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee! Hoo, hoo, hoo!

 

Oh dear!

 

 

Guerilla war

 

DURBAN'S vervet monkeys have adopted diversionary tactics in their guerrilla war. Last week Mandy le Roux told us how they keep invading her pool area.

 

Since then they've stepped things up, While she was chasing a group of them from her herb garden, the main force was going in through the front door of the house. They chowed jelly tots, chocolate-coated peanuts and liquorice balls set up on a table near the TV set and made off with a dispenser of dental floss.

 

While I suppose it's encouraging to know that monkeys are sticklers for dental hygiene, most of us probably would still prefer that they don't invade our homes to practise it.

 

Mandy says my idea of playing the bagpipes seems unlikely to work either. Somebody regularly practises on the bagpipes in her area, south of Durban, and if anything it has activated the monkeys.

 

Sadly, I have to agree. With the monkeys in their present mood, the bagpipes would probably just prompt them into derisive performances of the highland fling. Perhaps I will have to get another Irish terrier after all.

 

Horror attack

MIND you, my old friend Derek Taylor advises against such a course. He says he still bears the scars on his arm from when – while still a baby – an Irish terrier tried to bury him alive in a flower bed.

"I was reclining in my pram in the garden at the age of seven months, when an Irish terrier named Mick, owned by my dog-loving but ill-informed mother, reared on his hind-legs and extracted me from the vehicle by the left arm. I can still show the tooth marks to this day.

"I gave voice. My mother hastily abandoned the fag, cup of tea and novel in which she was indulging and retrieved me from a shallow hole in a flower bed near the pram.

"In later life when I inquired about this incident, she explained: 'He wasn't trying to hurt you. He was jealous and just trying to bury you.'

"Do you really wish to turn your garden into a cemetery for vervet monkeys and the smaller human beings belonging to your neighbours? I advise against it."

I don't want to offend Derek, but you can't fool Irish terriers. They know a monkey when they see one.

 

 

Tailpiece

PADDY arrives at a fancy dress party a little the worse for wear and with a girl draped over his back. He announces that he's come as a tortoise.

Host: "Who's that on your back?"

Paddy: "Dat's Michelle."

Last word

The worst sin toward our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them: that's the essence of inhumanity.

George Bernard Shaw

 

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