The Idler, Friday, November 2, 2012

A world premiere

 

NEW GROUND was again broken at the Mondays at Six soiree this week with the world premiere of Presto, a movie made in Durban by fellow-columnist David Basckin, of the Sunday Tribune. The Alliance Francaise was packed.

 

Presto is a film of unusual format. It consists of a monologue by one Budgie Smith, in which he describes his day and a half as a national serviceman in the bad old days; his escape from the army camp in Bloemfontein (and from the terrors of the Tempe Tigers); his being "carted" by the military police and clapped into detention barracks; and then his successful persuading of a psychologist that he was simply too whacko for military service.

 

This entertaining yarn is interspersed with snatches of song and boogie-woogie style dance from an a capella trio with the somewhat alarming name, Dr Fly and the Nurses, who specialise in impersonations of the Andrews Sisters, very popular in the 1950s. They also do a very good rendition of a Miriam Makeba classic.

 

These girls really can sing. They are: Sophia Basckin (soprano – David's daughter); Jessica Sole (mezzo – and daughter of Sam, another colleague in the hackery trade); and Natalie Shama (alto).

 

David directed Presto, which was produced by Zoe Molver.

 

The thing writhes with humour – partly Budgie's story, often the incongruity of the musical interludes and sometimes a kind of zany connection. His early disparagement of things military is followed up by a lively number from the girls about the Bugler of Company B.

 

I am most impressed. The quirkiness of Basckin's regular newspaper column translates readily into film. And David, it seems, specialises these days in film through his company, 1412 Productions. I'd guess this one – which lasts just under an hour – is aimed at the upcoming Christmas party season. It's got the ingredients – lots of laughs and some really zingy music from way back.

 

I wonder if it's too late for me to audition with my well-known rendering of the gumboot dance?

 

Budgie again

MEANWHILE, the same Budgie Smith features at Monday night's soiree (the last of the season at Alliance Francaise before we return to St Clement's) when he introduces Tryptych, which is a reprise of Neil Sack's film on Andrew Verster, together with films on Walter Battiss and Neil Sack himself.

 

Be a man!

 

SUCH conflicting advice one gets. The city's Natural Resources Department suggests one should "dress as a man" to scare the daylights out of the marauding monkeys.

 

Yet (quite apart from the fact that I generally dress as a man – and the monkeys display an insolence that is absolutely intolerable) the advice is totally at variance with that of my vet.

 

He says monkeys are terrified of ballerinas. Put on a tutu and pirouette about the front lawn and they will skedaddle and not come back, he says.

 

I haven't followed his advice as it might be misinterpreted by the neighbours. Besides, this vet is a bit of a scallywag. I shall tax him further on the issue later today at a First Friday of the Month lunch we both attend.

 

 

Another idea

 

MEANWHILE, Barry Bechard of Hillcrest responds to this week's recommendation by Herr Dokter Klaus von Schlenterschtoppen - that politicians should be fed to the lions at Moses Mabhida Stadium – with the idea that monkeys should be added to the menu.

 

 

"I suggest that the monkeys be served as a dessert as they would be much tastier than the politicians. It would also save the ladies from having to dress up like men, which could be illegal in any event."

 

What a wonderfully constructive idea. It's known as thinking outside the box.

 

Only answer

OF COURSE, the only real solution to the monkey problem is to own an Irish terrier.

There is a downside, such as the dog going into shrieking hysteria every time somebody mentions the word "monkey". Also, Irish terriers misbehave in bars. Mine was banned from three pubs and had a police record for disturbing the peace.

But they do put the monkeys in their place.

Tailpiece

She: "I've had enough of you and your nonsense! Pack your bags and go! Now!"

He: "I'm off!"

She: "And I hope you die a slow and painful death!"

He: "Now you want me to stay?"

Last word

Politicians are the same all over. They promise to build a bridge even where there is no river.

Nikita Khrushchev

 

The Idler, Thursday, November 1, 2012

Gathering of the clans

WHO SHOULD I run into with three eagle feathers in his bonnet but the Maclaine of Loch Buie, patron of the Highland Games at Fort Nottingham, wicketkeeper in days of yore for the Durban Press XI and generally known as Drambuie.

He's just back from the 40^th Stone Mountain Scottish Festival and Highland Games in Georgia, in the United States, which is on a somewhat larger scale than the Fort Nottingham gathering but conducted in exactly the same spirit with tossing the caber, walking the weight and all the rest of it; pipers, drummers, dancing lassies and lots of whisky.

Drambuie wears three eagle feathers in his bonnet because he's chieftain of the MacLaine clan. His lieutenants (the equivalent of Zulu indunas) are allowed two feathers and the clan notables are allowed one. It's the same with all the clans.

But at Stone Mountain the Maclaines, and all the others, are trumped in the feathers department by the chieftain of the MacIntosh clan. The reason is that the Macintoshes who emigrated to America in the 17^th century married into the Cree Indian tribe (who it's PC these days to refer to as "Native Americans"). And the American who has inherited the chieftaincy of the MacIntosh clan (the way Drambuie in South Africa inherited the chieftaincy of the MacLaines) has also inherited the Cree chieftaincy.

This means he's allowed to wear the full Indian feathered headdress – like in the Wild West movies – feathers trailing all the way down his back. He proudly wears it with the kilt in the MacIntosh tartan. (It's a bit like the story of Scots colonial John Dunn who became a Zulu chief and had dozens of wives and scores of children – whose descendants still farm in the Mangete block, north of the Tugela. But it's not recorded whether Dunn ever had a tartan beshu).

Drambuie says it was a highly entertaining three days, though somewhat stressful because he and the other chieftains seemed to be always on some kind of raised dais where you had to be careful of pesky photographers seeking to capture the secret of what a Scotsman wears – or does not wear – beneath the kilt. His wee wifie had to keep telling him: "Sit proper!"

Aweel, it's a wee deoch an doris …

Bog and dog

A BRITISH pensioner spent 24 hours stuck in a bog, comforted only by her sheepdog, Monty.

The unnamed 82-year-old on the Isle of Wight was discovered to be missing when she failed to show for a hairdresser's appointment next day. She was found by a search team of the Hampshire Constabulary, who took 90 minutes to extricate her from the bog.

She had fallen head-first down an embankment while walking Monty in the woods during heavy rain and gale-force winds. She was taken to hospital. Her hair was an absolute fright.

 

Whale of a time

OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-40s: "There were two fat birds in here last night, with strong accents. I said: 'Are you two ladies from Scotland?' They screeched: 'Wales, you idiot!' I said: 'Sorry, are you two whales from Scotland?' That's the last thing I remember."

Red cards

WHAT'S the record for the greatest number of red cards issued in a football match? In Paraguay the other day the ref issued 36 – 22 to the players on the field and the rest to the reserve benches.

It was a junior league fixture. Five minutes from the end the ref red-carded two of the players for fighting but they refused to leave the field and continued their fight. In seconds the rest had joined, in swinging punches and aiming kung fu kicks.

The ref and his linesmen then fled for the dressing room and issued the red cards from there.

The players are now all of them automatically suspended from football and are waiting to know if there will be further sanctions.

Aw, come on now. What's football without a bit of kung fu? Boys will be boys.

 

Tailpiece

Paddy (frantically into the phone): "My wife is pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart!"
>
Doctor: "Is this her first child?"
>
Paddy: "No! Dis is her husband!"

Last word

The mind of a bigot is like the pupil of the eye. The more light you shine on it, the more it will contract.

Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr

 

The Idler, Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Things that go bump …

IT'S HALLOWEEN – the day of the year when spookiness is supposed to reign, when all kinds of ghosts and evil spirits are supposed walk the earth and when the most frightful girls in Gothic outfits certainly do haunt Halloween parties.

Halloween has never been a very big deal in South Africa. But from what one can tell there has been a spate of Halloween parties in Durban during the run-up, and no doubt there will be more tonight.

In Ireland, parts of Scotland and America it's a very big deal. In America especially there's the trick or treat tradition – where groups of kids in costume go around knocking on neighbourhood doors to be rewarded with sweets and other goodies – as well as the carving of pumpkins into candle-lit horror masks.

The origin of the word is Christian – All Hallows Even – but the more distant origin is almost certainly pagan, probably the Celtic festival of Samhain ("summer's end").

Many think this is all superstitious nonsense. But you can never be too sure. When the wind howls and the shadows dance on your bedroom wall, there's always the old Scottish prayer:

From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!

 

Ladysmith/Mangaung

GORDON Bailey, of Port Shepstone, says he was listening on the car radio to a political analyst who said of the looming leadership election in the ANC that because of the lack of potential among the opposing candidates, it might be necessary to shoo President Zuma through for a second term.

"When I heard this I was reminded of the beauty contest they had in Ladysmith many years back where nobody won. I wonder if this is the same problem that the ANC now finds itself with?"

A fair point. I recall the Ladysmith beauty contest very well. It was reported by my distant predecessor, Jack Shepherd-Smith, and it almost caused civil war in the province.

The Ladysmith town council met and passed a resolution condemning the Mercury and the Idler. A group of Ladysmith roughs tried to kidnap Jack. Then somebody threw fat on the fire by claiming they'd held a "Miss Lucky Legs" contest in Ladysmith and it was won by the grand piano in the town hall.

Resentment still simmers in the siege town. I hope the ANC conference in Mangaung generates less heat than this.

 

 

Just curious

OVERHEARD at the Street Shelter for the Over-40s: "I think my husband's having an affair so I've hired a private detective. Not to find out who this other woman is – just to find out what the heck she sees in him."

 

Riotous absurdity

I'M NOT SURE whether to take this as a compliment. Mary Ann Grafetsberger, of South Beach, says when she read last week's item in the news pages about dung beetles and why they sit on their "poo balls" – to keep their feet warm - she thought at first that I'd written it.

 

"The article was well placed amid stories of toe nail clippings being sent to the Chinese Embassy (everyone should do that); a king caught for speeding; fraud and corruption; a king with a very large food bill; botched prison escapes; succession battles; taxable lap dances; and people stuffing sheep into the boots of their Mercs."

 

(Yes, Mary Ann, I'm afraid the news pages often do contain items that are riotously absurd. You have to turn to the Idler's column for something sober and reflective).

 

She says she knows quite a bit about cats and monkeys but has never given much thought before to dung beetles.

 

I'm with you there, Mary Ann. Dung beetles have never kept me awake at night either. My specialities are bats, tarantulas, Beluga whales and such creatures. People say I can become quite a bore about them so I'd better leave it at that.

 

 

 

Tailpiece

A LITTLE boy is playing in the garden with a bat and ball. "I'm the greatest cricketer in the world," he says as he tosses the ball in the air, swings and misses. He does it again: "I'm the greatest cricketer in the world - then he swings and misses.

Then again: "I'm the greatest cricketer in the world." He swings and misses.

"Wow! What a bowler!"

Last word

Kindness, I've discovered, is everything in life. - Isaac Bashevis Singer

The Idler, Tuesday, October 30, 2012

A modest proposal

THE COUNCIL is fretting about ways to financially turn around Moses Mabhida Stadium, the International; Convention Centre and uShaka Marine World; how to stop them being a perpetual drain on the finances of the city.

I'm glad to report that it's been receiving the attention of Herr Dokter Klaus von Schlenterschtoppen, the noted forensic auditor, economist and specialist in multi-scale financial regeneration. He's been focussing up until now on Moses Mabhida, and I've had access to his preliminary report. His breadth of vision and perspicacity are astounding. He does not hestitate to delve back centuries in search of appropriate models for the present.

In the case of Moses Mabhida, he uses the model of the Colosseum in Rome. The Colosseum today stands in ruins, while once it was a hive of activity, the venue for gladiatorial contests and popular spectacles such as throwing Christians to the lions.

Why does it today stand in ruins? Because of non-use. The throwing of Christians to the lions fell out of vogue when the Emperor himself became a Christian. More or less simultaneously, gladiatorial spectacles came to be frowned upon, on moral grounds. There were all kinds of new-fangled ideas – "Thou shalt not kill …"

Fast-forward to the 21^st century. Moses Mabhida faces a similar fate of non-use. Built to cater for a few weeks of the Fifa World Cup in 2010, it now stands redundant, a financial black hole. It's not suitable for rugby. It's even less suitable for cricket. Soccer in Durban is just not big enough. Moses Mabhida desperately needs some spectacular and continuing activity that will attract people in their thousands upon thousands, year-in, year-out.

Dr Von Schlenterschtoppen's solution is breathtakingly audacious and at the same time breathtakingly simple. It is best conveyed in his own words (not yet edited).

"Ve take der model uff der Ancient Rome. Der Colosseum vass ze economic super-success mit der throwink uff der Christians to der lions. But no more. No more throwink uff Christians to lions. Ze Colosseum decayink into ruin. Same fate for Moses Mabhida if ve not careful.

"So vot ve find to get ze plebs to Moses Mabhida? Not ze rugby. Not ze cricket. Not ze Top Gear unt Jeremy Clarkson – zat iss Mickey Mouse.

"Durban need somesing at Moses Mabhida zat is colossal, spektakular, exciting, unique. Somesing like der feeding uff der Christians to der lions.

"Do ve feed der Christians to der lions at Moses Mabhida? Nein! Der welt hass changed since Roman times. So vot can ve feed to der lions at Moses Mabhida? Vot hass no moral constraint? Vich category iss hated by all unt vill not be missed?

"Ze solution iss clear. Ve feed der politicians to der lions at Moses Mabhida. Novere else in der welt iss dere such a spektakle. Der tourists vill pour in from all ofer der welt – from Russia, from Deutschland, from Amerika - to see der sight uff politicians beink thrown to der hungry lions.

"Zere iss no shortage uff politicians. Moses Mabhida vill be a sell-out effery veekend. Maybe matinee performances Vednesdays also. Ziss is how to turn ze place arount …"

I just knew there had to be an answer.

Superman quits

UP, UP AND away! Clark Kent, alter ego of Superman, is resigning from his post as star reporter at the Daily Planet, the newspaper where he has worked since the first Superman comics were published in the 1940s.

DC Comics, which publishes the Superman stories, says Kent will walk out in protest after the Daily Planet's take-over by a conglomerate that wants soft entertainment stories instead of real news. There is even speculation that the Man of Steel might become a blogger to reach a wider audience.

This is according to a leaked panel from the comic that has appeared on the internet.

But nobody's answered the question that absolutely everyone is asking. Has Clark Kent scored yet with Lois Lane? In a telephone booth maybe?

Tailpiece

 

ROMANTIC dialogue in a disco: She: "Give me your number, sexy."   He: "Have you got a pen?"   She: "Yes."   He: "Well get back to it before the farmer notices you're missing."

 

 

Last word

A woman uses her intelligence to find reasons to support her intuition. -
GK Chesterton

 

The Idler, Monday, October 29, 2012

Great white whale (1)

ASTOUNDING developments. As recorded in the news pages last week, a white Beluga whale at an aquarium in San Diego, California, has produced sing-song sounds that suggest it was trying to copy human speech.

Scientists analysing the sounds produced by Noc the Beluga say he was not quite as good as a parrot or an Indian mynah but he was definitely trying. (And show me the parrot or Indian mynah that can dive underwater as well as talk).

Now a keeper at an aquarium in Vancouver, Canada, says he heard their white Beluga whale utter his own name: "Lagosi". This whale also seemed to speak a garbled Russian or Chinese.

This is astonishing stuff. Imagine if Herman Melville had such information at his disposal. Moby Dick could have had some arresting dialogue.

Kweegee: "Thar she blows!"

Captain Ahab: "It's the Great White Whale who took off me leg! I've been scouring the Seven Seas to get me revenge, ya rascal!"

Moby Dick: "Avast, ya tattooed swab, I'll stick yer harpoon where the sun don't shine! As for you, Ahab, I'm gonna chomp your other leg then put you in the San Diego aquarium …"

Etcetera etcetera.

Great white whale (2)

MEANWHILE, it seems I was mistaken in the Street Shelter for the Over-40s the other night. The fellow at the bar counter slobbering and bellowing in an incoherent sing-song was not a fat drunk, as I'd thought, he was a white Beluga whale trying to order a martini.

Bridesmaid

WHAT a disappointment the Currie Cup final was. It was like watching a rerun of the old movie, The Man Who Never Was, about how the Allies tricked the Nazis over the place and timing of the D-Day landings.

We just kept throwing to that phantom jumper at the back of the line-out – The Man Who Never Was. Who was tricking whom?

That's where our game unravelled. Those two Western Province drop goals summed it up – a side playing with method and composure and taking their opportunities. Well done to them.

For ourselves a season in which we got into both the Super Rugby and the Currie Cup finals. Sigh! Always a bridesmaid.

Confusion reigns

SUCH confusion last week at the Mondays at Six soiree at the Alliance Francaise. I was expecting a talk from 68-year-old "gogo" Delia Ballantyne about how she climbed Kilimanjaro. Yet here was this slip of a girl – barely out of her teens – telling us how she and a gang of other girls climbed not only Kilimanjaro but Mount Meru as well.

Confusion apart, a most entertaining evening. And tonight will be a cracker with a film, Presto, produced by David Basckin – quirky columnist on the Sunday Tribune - and Zoe Molver.

To quote the blurb: "The film creates a contrapuntal relationship between the testimony of a former SADF conscript in which he details his strategy to avoid the call-up, and the performance of Dr Fly and The Nurses, Durban's popular a capella trio who sing and dance their way through an entire set of mostly Andrews Sisters hits plus one luminous Miriam Makeba classic."

This is not to be missed.

Tailpiece

Two women are sitting next to each other in a New York bar. One says: "I can't help but tink, from listenin' to you, dat you're from Oireland."   "Yes, sure Oi am!'   "So am Oi! And whereabouts in Oireland are ya from?   "Oi'm from Dublin, Oi am."   "So, am Oi! And what street did you live on in Dublin?"   "A lovely little area. Oi I lived on Warbury Street in de old central part of town."   "Faith, and it's a small world. So did Oi! And what school did ya go to?"   "Well now, I went to Holy Heart of Mary, of course."   "And so did Oi! Tell me, what year did you graduate?" "Well, now, let's see. Oi graduated in 1964." "The Good Lord must be smilin' down upon us! I can hardly believe our good luck at windin' up in de same pub tonight! Can you believe it? I graduated from Holy Heart of Mary in 1964 meself!"   A man walks in and orders a beer. The bartender walks over and mutters "It's going to be a long night."   "Why so?" "The Murphy twins are on their ear again."

Last word

The love of truth lies at the root of much humour.

Robertson Davies

The Idler, Friday, October 26, 2012

Your province needs you!

WHAT is the weather going to do tomorrow for the Currie Cup final? Three home games in a row now, the Sharks have had to play on a sponge (and they've won in fine style). If it clears, can they adjust?

The long-range forecast says early showers, then clearing; an 11-knot wind from the south. So that looks like a dampish start, conditions improving. But anything can happen these days. By the time they run on it could be raining frogs and lizards.

Mind you, the way the fellows have been performing they can play in anything. It's the spectators we worry about. Will we get a full stadium at King's Park for the first time this season? What's a bit of rain when the guys are about to lift the Currie Cup?

Come on, turn out! Do your bit for the black and white! Think of the after-party. You'll regret it if you weren't there. To adapt Lord Kitchener: Your province needs you!

 

Passports

 

DISCUSSION in recent days of the forging of passports during the apartheid era prompts Zoltan de Rosner, of Pennington, to send in his own passport.

 

It is issued by the "Republic of Hout Bay" (down in the Cape where Zoltan and his wife used to live) and was a fund-raising gimmick by the local Lions Club.

 

Border posts were set up once a year on the three roads into the village and visitors had to buy passports at R10 each. Great fun. And several locals managed to use these passports overseas and would proudly show off the entry and exit stamps when they returned.

 

Yes, something similar used to happen at the Ingeli Mountain Lodge, just before Kokstad. The lodge issued passports of the "Republic of Ingeli" – rather fancy documents with space in them for three photographs: "Your photograph"; "Your wife's photograph"; and "Your girlfriend's photograph".

 

This was at the time the Transkei was supposedly independent and border controls had been set up. Reps staying at Ingeli Mountain Lodge used to delight in using their Republic of Ingeli passports to travel in and out of the Republic of Transkei.

 

Sigh! Did nobody take Grand Apartheid seriously?

 

 

Comic opera

 

YES, GRAND apartheid provided some splendid comic opera. There was the occasion when the President of the independent nation of Bophuthatswana paid a state visit to the independent nation of Transkei.

 

My colleague, David Thomas – then stationed at Umtata – filed a classic report.

 

A 21-gun salute boomed out across the Transkei capital as the Bophuthatswana President arrived. This puzzled people because everyone knew the Transkei army had no artillery.

It turned out that the salvos came from a captured World War I German field gun, on display outside the Umtata town hall. A corporal was throwing thunderflashes down the barrel, carefully counting.

But the percussion was too much for the ancient wooden framework of the gun. It collapsed. But the 21-gun salute continued, the corporal continuing to throw thunderflashes down the barrel as it lay there on the ground.

Great stuff, worthy of an Evelyn Waugh.

 

Transkei navy

AND OF COURSE there was the time when the Transkei navy took delivery of a submarine. It was called the Oceanos.

Tailpiece

SISTER Mary-Ann is a nun who works with a home health agency in the Free State. While out on her rounds, she runs out of petrol. But fortunately she is near a filling station. She walks to it and asks if she can borrow a can to fill with petrol.

 

The attendant says he's just lent out his only can. But it should be back soon, if she can wait. She decides to go back to the car and look for another receptacle. There she spots the bedpan she was taking to a patient. She walks back to the filling station with it, gets it filled up with petrol, goes back to the car and starts pouring the petrol into the tank.

 

Koos van der Merwe and his brother are watching the operation with great interest from an adjacent field where they have been ploughing.

 

"Kleinboet," says Koos. "If that thing starts, I'm turning Catholic."

 

Last word

Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.

Alexander Pope

 

The Idler, Thursday, October 25, 2012

Cabal of toffs?

ETON, the super-posh English public school is suddenly in the news. It's the alma mater of Prime Minister David Cameron and his Chancellor, George Osborne. The Labour opposition have sniped at them from the start for being part of a cabal of toffs.

Then Andrew Mitchell, Tory chief whip in the House of Commons, got into a late-night altercation with police outside the prime minister's residence. He called them "plebs", and had to resign in the resulting uproar.

George Osborne himself was found travelling in a first class rail carriage with a second class ticket, and got into a bit of a spat with the conductor.

And now a group of Eton schoolboys have put a video on Youtube, in which they rap about life at the school: "We're not too social, can't talk to women, although we try, we're just too shy."

Tony Little, headmaster of Eton, describes is as: "A self-deprecating piece of fun by some boys who are parodying themselves."

What would the Duke of Wellington have made of all this? The Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton.

 

Shaft of light

 

EVERY now and then a shaft of brightness penetrates the gloom.

 

Eskom seeks to impose annual electricity tariff increases of 16 percent for the next five years.

 

Can the name of the Eskom chairman really be Zola Tsotsi? Yes, that is the case.

 

Onward we trudge. But sometimes the step is a little lighter.

 

Never On Sunday

 

THE OTHER day we discussed the Greek amateur football club, Voukefalas, who have been forbidden to wear jerseys proclaiming their sponsorship by two local bordellos. Reader Brett Beiles suggests a way out.

 

He reminds us of the Greek film, Never On Sunday, in which a hooker (played by Melinda Mercouri) worked Monday to Saturday but "never on Sunday". He suggests some kind of similar accommodation with the football authorities.

 

 

Brett – who is a livewire at the Monday's at Six soirees – suggests that I might not be old enough to remember the film.

 

Flattery will get you nowhere, Brett. And I recall the very catchy theme song only too well.

 

 

 

Striptease

THE AUTHORITIES in China are cracking down on striptease send-offs at funerals. Five people have been arrested in Donghai County, in the eastern province of Jiangsu, for "obscene performances" at a funeral.

The strippers are apparently hired to boost the number of mourners because large crowds are seen as a mark of honour for the deceased. It's been going on for some time.

But the authorities have had enough of it and local officials have been ordered to halt the performances. A special hotline has been set up for funeral strips to be reported.

I wonder what the legal position is here? Those with sporty terms in their will would do well to check it out.

 

Strip tax

MEANWHILE, an American strip club has been told it cannot claim tax exemption because lap-dancing does not promote community culture.

Nite Moves club, in New York state, had claimed it should be exempt from sales tax because of its contribution to culture. However the state supreme court ruled otherwise.

Interestingly, the bench of judges was split 4-3 in their ruling. The minority said there was no legal distinction between "high-brow dance and low-brow dance." They said serious constitutional issues were raised.

They really should have adjourned to Nite Moves for an inspection in loco.

 

 

March of science

NASA'S Curiosity rover has ingested its first Martian soil sample. The other day it took a pinch of dust into the CheMin Instrument, one of its two big onboard analytical tools.

It's a key moment for the $2.6 billion mission. But I'm prepared to make a small bet. Exhaustive analysis will reveal that the grit and gravel on the surface of Mars is identical to the grit and gravel of the Griquas' rugby field at Kimberley. You can tell from the photographs of both.

The Griquas' rugby field has a covering here and there of devilthorns. Ergo vegetation is possible on Mars.

The march of science is relentless.

Tailpiece

A PROSPECTIVE student is being interviewed for admission to a prestige medical school.

Panel member: "Where do you expect to be 10 years from now?"

Prospective student: "Well, let's see. It's Wednesday afternoon. The golf course, I guess."

 

Last word

The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.

Dorothy Parker