Drama at city hall
I WAS hoisting a pint of beer last Friday at Point Yacht Club, in company
with a lass who is a regular at the St Clement's arts soiree. She had stopped
in at the club on her way back from the Red-Eye arts shindig in the city hall.
Suddenly her cellphone gave tongue (to use the PG Wodehouse idiom). She
answered. Her eyes widened in alarm. Then she started pressing the phone
buttons herself, rather frantically.
What had happened was this: Two fellows (who also frequent St Clement's)
had stayed on at Red-Eye and found themselves wandering about the city
hall, whose ancient corridors and staircases they found fascinating.
Up a spiral staircase they went, coming to a small door. This they opened
and, to their astonishment, found they were on the city hall roof, right near
the dome. A thunderstorm was approaching, a magnificent spectacle with its
jagged forks of lightning.
Then the wind. Then the first lashings of rain. Then the door slammed shut
in a gust. It had a Yale lock.
There was no chance of competing with a thunderstorm and the Red-Eye
shindig to attract attention. They were there for the night. And (presuming
they survived the thunderstorm) that part of town is quiet on a Saturday
morning, while the few citizens about don't respond too well to lunatics
calling from the city hall roof to be rescued. They were there for the
weekend at least.
Except, of course, that we live in the age of the cellphone. The lass in PYC
put through a call to Suzie Bell, compere of Red-Eye. She contacted city
hall security and our lads were rescued.
I'm looking forward to meeting them tonight at the first St Clement's jolly
of the year. A generous supply of good claret might be sufficient to persuade
silence as to identities.
PG rides again
DURBAN has a lot of PG Wodehouse aficionados, judging from the packed
Elizabeth Sneddon theatre the other evening. They were not disappointed by
Jeeves & Wooster in Perfect Nonsense, an absolutely hilarious translocation
to the stage of Wodehouse's superbly crafted stories of the old Etonian set
in England between the two world wars.
Wodehouse misled an entire generation of Americans into believing
England was peopled by chinless wonders, butlers, dotty aunts and fellows
like Gussie Fink-Nottle, an expert on newts.
His magic is in his lines – like the fellow with a monocle whose stare could
open an oyster at 20 paces.
To the Wodehouse magic is added, in this production by Pieter Toerien and
KickstArt, acting and stagecraft that are simply sublime, heightening the
comedy. The character whose one side is a severe, pipe-smoking magistrate
and the other a supposedly glamorous damsel – depending which side is
presented to the audience - was simply uncanny. It worked.
Graham Hopkins, Jonathan Roxmouth and Robert Fridjhon between them
play various roles, male and female. What a hilarious romp this is.
What ho!
ANOTHER bit of the Wodehouse magic.
"'What ho!' I said.
"'What ho!' said Motty.
"'What ho! What ho!'
" 'What ho! What ho! What ho!'
"After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation."
Razzling Durban
ON THE downside, after a show like this, worthy of the London West End
and Broadway, you have to traipse around Durban, dodging the whoonga
addicts, to find at place that's still open for a meal and a glass or two – at 10
pm on a Saturday night.
Mama mia! And they say we're one of the world's top cities? Maybe
KickstArt can help them get their act together.
TV sex
OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties: "There's nothing
wrong with sex on TV – just as long as you don't fall off."
Super watches
INVESTMENT analyst Dr James Greener remarks in his latest grumpy
newsletter that last year about R320m was spent in South Africa on "super-
luxury" watches.
"For a nation where time and punctuality are not thought particularly
important that seems rather odd."
Tailpiece
BABY bear: "Where's my porridge?"
Papa bear: "Where's my porridge?"
Mama bear (from kitchen): "Knock it off, you two! Eskom are load-
shedding!"
Last word
Horse sense is the thing a horse has which keeps it from betting on people.
W C Fields
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