Sunday, October 28, 2012

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

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