Calypso rugby again
"COME mister tallyman, tally me banana …" For once the music at Kings Park did not jar. The calypso song of yesteryear seemed to take us back to the glory days of Natal rugby in the amateur era. One half-expected the ghost of Manie Blom to come running on with his bunch of bananas.
And to we sentimentalists it seemed appropriate because here before us we were seeing what seemed like a resorgimento of our provincial rugby and of the Currie Cup.
The Sharks played exciting, adventurous stuff, running the ball from anywhere, handling superbly. That try by Curwin Bosch, rounding off a movement that began behind our own goalline, was simply spectacular, as good as anything you can expect to see anywhere.
The Sharks' tackling was heroic. The combination, which included excellent rucking and mauling, made for the kind of rugby that, back in the amateur days, brought us our first Currie Cup ever.
Let us not forget that the opposition were the Bulls, a deadly combination, who were running at us for all they were worth. True, they made some errors on which we pounced, but when you're running into a defence that is like a wire fence, you do make mistakes.
This was wonderful stuff and the Sharks are becoming a drawcard.
Ole, ole, ole!
Up against it
DON'T cry for me, Argentina … What else does one say about the Boks? A total reversal of the weekend before, even of the scoreline. We knew it would be tough but this time we just didn't seem to be in the game.
And Handre Pollard's boot still seems to have a jinx on it.
Next stop Aussie. Then New Zealand. Hoo boy! It gets tougher and tougher.
But nil desperandum. This is rugby. Now is the time for Rassie to pull a rabbit out of the hat.
Soap opera
EVENTS surrounding the White House begin to look like vintage soap opera. There's sleaze – allegations of extra-marital affairs; alleged payoffs to keep the ladies quiet; and alleged contravention of electoral law as a result.
The lawyer supposedly involved in the pay-offs has "flipped" and is co-operating with federal prosecutors.
The owner of a racy tabloid magazine – said to have a safe full of "catch and kill" stories about Trump that will never be published - has "flipped" and is co-operating with federal prosecutors.
So much for sleaze. Now high finance. The chief financial officer of the Trump organisation, who has worked there for more than 40 years, has "flipped" and is co-operating with federal prosecutors.
From what are these people flipping? What is going on? What are the federal prosecutors pursuing?
And as if this were not enough, we now have a case of "What the butler saw." A doorman at one of his hotels claims Trump had a "love child" with a housekeeper.
It's staggering. The most gifted soap opera scriptwriter couldn't come up with anything like it. This one will run and run!
Denton O Maker
A PALL of gloom fell across the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties last Friday evening as the news came through that Denton O'Maker, life and soul of the place, had died in hospital.
Denton, who in his time played rugby on the wing for Glenwood Old Boys and Natal, was an entertaining livewire, always at the centre of things. It's difficult to imagine the Shelter without him. He is sadly missed.
More Trump
STILL with Donald Trump, reader John Christie gets in ahead of our poet laureate of Hillcrest, Ian Gibson, with some lines on the Trump tweet about South Africa.
There once was a man called Trump,
Who instead of a brain had a sump;
He blabbed off his mouth
About Africa South,
Causing Cyril to go have a dump.
Tailpiece
TWO Paddies are hard at work for the Dublin corporation. One digs a hole at the roadside, the other immediately fills it in. They make fast progress down the road.
A bystander asks what's going on. "Why dig a hole then fill it?"
"Ah, normally it's de three of us. But de lad who plants de trees called in sick today."
Last word
If the automobile had followed the same development cycle as the computer, a Rolls-Royce would today cost $100, get a million miles per gallon, and explode once a year, killing everyone inside.
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