Tuesday, July 5, 2016

The nIdler, Friday, July 1, 2016

Is this satire?

ANOTHER angle on the Brexit saga. The New Yorker reports that Britons are mourning their long-cherished right to claim the Americans are significantly more dumb than they are.

"Luxuriating in the superiority of their intellect over Americans' has long been a favourite pastime in Britain, surpassing in popularity such games as cricket, darts, and snooker.

"But, according to Alistair Dorrinson, a pub owner in North London, British voters have done irreparable damage to the 'most enjoyable sport this nation has ever known: namely, treating Americans like idiots.

"When our countrymen cast their votes yesterday, they didn't realise they were destroying the most precious leisure activity this nation has ever known,' he said.

"In the face of this startling display of national idiocy, Dorrinson still mustered some of the resilience for which the British people are known. 'This is a dark day,' he said. 'But I hold out hope that, come November, Americans could become dumber than us once more.'"

This is, of course, the work of master-satirist Andy Borowitz. Except that this time I'm not so sure it's satire.

THEY'RE marking the centenary of the Battle of the Somme in World War I – a horrific slaughter that killed about a million men on both sides.

The Somme

How extraordinary that both the British Conservative Party and the Labour Party should be marking the centenary with their own orgies of bloodletting.

Spread bet

JULY day tomorrow. It's time for a really complex spread bet over coming months, then retirement to the South of France.

Okay, choose a horse for tomorrow. Then choose the winner between the Sharks and the Lions. Then select the day the Brits push the Brexit button. Choose the Wimbledon men's and women's winners. Choose who wins between Donald Trump and Hillary. Just feed all the data into a computer. It's a cinch.

Sigh! I did just that. The damn thing blew up.

 

 

Unlucky 13

 

READER Peter Quantock, of Empangeni, asks what's wrong with the number 13.

 

"Where did the fear of it start and why? I noticed in your Wimbledon insert on June 27 that even the plan of the outside courts from 4 to 19 didn't have a number 13.

 

"I wouldn't have thought that tennis players would be that suspicious of its apparent bad luck reputation."

 

Yes, hospital beds are numbered 12, 12a and 14. Nobody wants to end up in Bed 13.

 

My understanding is that it's from the Last Supper. Christ sat down with the Twelve Apostles. One of them turned out to be a traitor.

 

Hostesses will not seat 13 people at the dinner table. Churchill, in his book, My Early Life, describes an occasion when a railway malfunction made him an hour late for a dinner at a country house.

 

He was the 14th guest. The hostess suggested that the 13 who were already there should sit down at separate tables – six and seven.

 

But the Prince of Wales was one of the guests and would have none of it. They waited until the embarrassed Churchill arrived.

 

I'm sure the Last Supper is the origin of the aversion for the number 13. Does anyone have different ideas?

 

Fair cop

HERE are some comments made by American police officers, taken from police car videos:

 


"If you take your hands off the car,  I'll make your birth certificate a worthless document."


"Can you run faster than 1 200 feet per second?  Because that's the speed of the bullet that'll be chasing you."
 

"You don't know how fast you were going? I guess that means I can write anything I want to on the ticket, huh?"


"The answer to this last question will determine whether you are drunk or not.  Was Mickey Mouse a cat or a dog?"

"Fair? You want me to be fair?  Listen, fair is a place where you go to ride on rides, eat cotton candy and corn dogs and step in monkey poop."

"Yeah, we have a quota.  Two more tickets and my wife gets a toaster oven."

"You didn't think we give pretty women tickets? You're right, we don't.  Sign here."

 

 

 

Tailpiece

 

THIS fellow is in a shop buying a bra for his wife.

 

"What size is she?"

 

"Seven-and-a-half."

 

"Seven-and-a-half? Where do you get a size like that?"

 

"I measured her with me 'at."

 

Last word

 

Nothing is as irritating as the fellow who chats pleasantly while he's overcharging you.

Kin Hubbard

 

 

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