Greyhounds in the slips
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more … Yes, the Immortal Bard knew how to frame a changeroom pep talk. Get to those rucks, turn 'em over!
Oi, Beast! Get a load of this:
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage …
And you, Bismarck:
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean ...
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height …
Yes, it's the line-outs I'm talking about. And the rucks. And the mauls.
And Keegan, all of you, let's take possession at the kick-offs and keep it! Let's be wide awake!
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot …
Yes, Shakespeare knew a thing or two about rugby. Tomorrow at Newlands it's the moment of truth. Sweet revenge for last year! 'Erewego, 'erewego, 'erewego!
Wager
OF COURSE, I have a bit riding on this Currie Cup final. Readers might recall rather a rash wager I made a week or so ago. If we lose to Western Province I have to join Julius Malema's Economic Freedom Fighters and wear a red beret for a year.
I know I'm pretty safe, but Corne Mulder phoned expressing concern. He'd been hoping to sign me up for the Freedom Front Plus, he said.
I reassured him but didn't let on that actually I'm smitten by Helen Zille. She's got really lovely legs, she's a gal who deserves to go far. (And I forgive her if she supports Province tomorrow. As premier of the place, I suppose she has to.)
Crossed lines
SAN FRANCISCO residents who tried to get through to the city's 311 Nuisance Hotline to complain about noise caused by an early morning marathon found themselves listening to a torrent of lewdness. They'd somehow been put through to a phone sex chatline.
The city's officials are not sure how this happened, but it seems that for about half an hour householders who had been hot under the collar about people pounding the street in the pre-dawn, and other people yelling encouragement to them, suddenly found themselves listening to the sexual fantasies of girls with names like Luscious Lucy and Redhot Ruby. They were not soothed.
Mystery upon mystery. How did the lines get crossed? What is the point of sex chatlines anyway? And why do people run pre-dawn marathons?
There are more questions than answers.
Beans heist
BEANZ meanz crimez … thousands of tins of Heinz baked beans (with sausage) have been stolen from a lorry while the driver was asleep in his cab at a layby in Worcestershire, England.
The thieves cut a hole in the side of the locked van and removed wooden pallets carrying the cans.
The police are looking for anyone trying to sell large quantities of Heinz baked beans - or in possession of a can opener large enough to open a van.
Service message
ONE OF THOSE incomprehensible service messages comes up on the computer screen.
"Error Recovery
"America was not shut down properly.
"Would you like to restart America in Safe Mode with free healthcare and no guns? (Recommended) Y/N"
Tailpiece
"My wife sure changed me. Got me to stop smoking, drinking and running round 'til all hours. Got me to dress well, appreciate the arts, classical music, gourmet cooking, good wines. She even got me to invest on the stock exchange."
"So are you bitter that she changed you that much?"
"Not bitter, just discontented. Now she's not good enough for me."
Last word
Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not good enough to recollect how often we have told it to the same person?
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