Hijacked to Kings Park
I GOT hijacked on my way to the Highlanders game at Kings Park on Saturday. When a blonde Viking has her nipple in your ear, you submit, you don't argue, you follow instructions.
I was driving down Florida Road when I saw ahead of me a lorry with a load of boys and gals on the back, dressed in the most astonishing garb – Edwardian-style costume mostly for the lads, frilly skirts for the gals, faces painted most colourfully, lots of wigs.
The road was full of folk similarly togged out. Some were jumping off the lorry, others jumping on.
The light turned red. A crowd gathered round me as I stopped. "Give us a lift!" they cried.
"I'm going to rugby."
"So are we!"
At which about eight of them jumped into my small car and the blonde Viking's nipple entered my ear.
"I hope the Fuzz don't stop us," I remarked.
"If the Fuzz stop us, we'll duff them up!" declared the blonde Viking.
Strong fumes were floating. It seems the guys and gals had been to six pubs since morning and still had a couple to go before they watched the game. One of the gals had a box with 106 tickets for the whole group.
"We do this once a year," said the blonde Viking.
"Who are you?"
It seems they're a group based on Douglas Adams's The Hitch Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy. They have their own website. They know how to party.
I dropped them at Moses Mabhida for a group photo, all 106 of them, and did not see them again in the crowd at Kings Park. Maybe they got enmeshed at the Duikers' Club or somewhere.
Poetry in motion
AND the game itself – what superb poetry, what a spectacle, here is a side that has at last found itself and is making the most of its talents. Five log points and a sniff at the play-offs. Ole, ole, ole!
It was enough to allow one to forget the earlier trauma of being hijacked by a blonde Viking with her nipple in one's ear.
Long white petticoat
DESCRIPTIONS of New Zealand as "The Land of the Long White Underpants" and "The Land of the Long White Nightshirt" remind reader Naomi Stapersma of her lecturing days at the Addington College of Nursing.
One of her colleagues was in a huge rush to get to work on time. As she got out of her car, student nurses burst out laughing and asked: "Where's your uniform, Mrs van der Merwe?"
"She looked down to discover that she was modestly but not quite correctly attired in a long white cotton petticoat."
This is Durban, not Auckland, Mrs Van.
INVESTMENT analyst Dr James Greener draws some alarming parallels, in his latest grumpy newsletter, with Gilbert and Sullivan.
"Fans of the Savoy operas will immediately have noted the similarity between Ko-Ko, the Lord High Executioner, and Donald, president of the US. Both have "little lists of those who won't be missed".
"The more recent of these two list-makers has identified the nations which most often vote in opposition to the US at the United Nations and which in consequence face the probability of America chopping off aid and benefits.
"Alarmingly, South Africa is on this list and the punishment could be far worse and longer lasting than anything Ko-Ko had in mind. It's proving foolish to poke the bear and not believe that he will carry out his threats."
A GARBAGE collector in Cairns, Australia, is driving along a street picking up the wheelie bins and emptying them into his compactor.
He comes to a house where the bin hasn't been left out. He goes up to the front door and knocks. No answer.
He knocks again, this time harder.
A Chinese fellow comes to the door. "Harro!".
"Gidday, mate! Where's ya bin?".
"I bin on toiret."
The bin man smiles and tries again.
"No, no, mate. Where's your dustbin?"
"I dust been to toiret, I toll you.''
"Listen, you're misunderstanding me. Where's yer wheelie bin?"
"Okay, okay," the Chinese fellow replies with a sheepish grin. Then he whispers in the garbage man's ear: "I wheelie bin havin' sex wiffa wife's sista!"
The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources.