This little pig …
'Twas an evening in October, I'll confess I wasn't sober,
I was carting home a load with manly pride,
When my feet began to stutter and I fell into the gutter,
And a pig came up and lay down by my side.
Then I lay there in the gutter and my heart was all a-flutter,
'Til a lady, passing by, did chance to say:
'You can tell a man that boozes by the company he chooses,'
Then the pig got up and slowly walked away …
THE social quality at the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties went up a few notches the other evening when a pig wandered into the bar, unannounced and unexplained.
It was somewhere between a piglet and a fully-grown pig, a scruffy little black and white critter, and he/she looked quite at home and determined to stay.
Was this an escaped pet? Was it Sunday dinner, escaped from a Transkei taxi? Was it looking to enrol at DHS, which is just over the way?
The staff were concerned that the pig would wander out into the road and be hit by a car. Also, the Street Shelter damsels were showing hostility at this competition for good looks. So the staff phoned the SPCA, who came and collected Piggy-Wiggy.
Anyone who's lost a scruffy little black and white pig now knows where to look.
| Doors syndrome WE ALL of us have that experience of walking into a room then thinking: "What the heck did I come here for?" Then remembering when we go back where we came from. It's a sign of the advancing enfeeblement of old age, we've always believed. Except that reader Doug McGarr has news for us – it's caused by doors. "Psychologists at the University of Notre Dame have discovered that passing through a doorway triggers what's known as an event boundary in the mind, separating one set of thoughts and memories from the next. "Your brain files away the thoughts you had in the previous room and prepares a blank slate for the new locale. Now what the heck am I doing at this keyboard? Tough 'un ADVERSITY brings out the best in us. Let's hope that works for the Boks tomorrow down in the Land of the Long White Underpants. They've been written off so comprehensively in advance by all the pundits – and quite justifiably given performance – that in a sense they can only improve. England coach Eddie Jones says the All Blacks are good but they have flaws in their game. They can be beaten. I haven't noticed too many flaws but if that's what Eddie says, flaws there are. Rugby is a game played with an awkwardly bouncing oval ball - you never know. Meanwhile, the Sharks must surely sort out the glitches against Eastern Province at King's Park. They've got what it takes – they must just get rid of the Silly Buggers factor that has them kicking away possession and conceding penalties. We're still in the hunt for the Currie Cup. We must stay there. Doonge Gold I WAS deeply saddened to learn of the death last week of Doonge Gold, one of the more delightful characters of the Midlands. When Doonge was still at school at Hilton College he would enliven the Anglican liturgy at chapel with a sotto voce "Stick 'em up!" as the parson was about to raise his hands for the blessing. This irreverent sense of fun infused his highly convivial social life, much of it conducted in fluent Zulu. Doonge was the life and soul of the party wherever he went. For years he turned out for Otto's Bluff against the Durban Press XI, where his prowess as a fast bowler at Hilton had subsided into cunning, guile and very rude sledging from the slips. Doonge died last week in a horror crash near Witbank, on a trip to Kruger National Park. His sister and daughter were injured but thankfully have survived. He will be sadly missed. His memorial service will be in the same Hilton chapel at 11am on Tuesday.
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Tailpiece
A POLE is having his eyesight tested. The optician shows him a wall chart with the letters: CKOPVWXSCZY.
"Can you read that?"
"Read it? I know the guy!"
Last word
All I ask is the chance to prove that money can't make me happy. - Spike Milligan
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