PIETER-DIRK UYS is back with a bang. I hadn't seen his show in years. On the way to When In Doubt Say Darling, on at the Elizabeth Sneddon, I thought of his merciless and hilarious lampooning of the Nats and apartheid – Dr Piet Koornhof of the long nose and enormous ears, finger-shaking PW Botha in his homburg hat. How had Uys adapted to the new dispensation?
He's adapted. We had Koornhof – with the grotesque nose and ears mask – and PW Botha; also Evita Bezuidenhout, ambassador to the bantustan of Bapetikosweti (It means "We got sweat!"). But this was no trip down memory lane. Uys was reminding us (and telling younger members of the audience) where we come from.
Then on to the contemporary. Uys's gift is to transform his persona before your eyes with a few deft changes – wigs, headgear and so on – and changed voice and facial expression. It's uncanny. Suddenly there onstage is Jacob Zuma in traditional regalia, giggling and singing mshini wami. It brought the house down.
Everything gets parodied – expropriation without compensation, the future President Malema, it goes on and on for an uninterrupted two hours or so. It also ranges wide. We get Theresa May, also Angela Merkel – astonishing stuff. Also the voice and laughter of Nelson Mandela (there was a mutual personal affection). It's quite extraordinary.
And a parallel theme is Uys's personal life in the Karoo town of Darling, rich with the local accents and idiom, charming interaction with the community.
This is a tour de force. He got a standing ovation at a packed opening night. Pas op, bliksems! Pieter-Dirk Uys is back with a bang.
WHAT a shame that the special atmosphere of a thriller of a game at Twickenham should be marred by that neck-high decapitation shoulder charge in the dying seconds on Andre Esterhuizen – the more so that it failed to yield the penalty that would probably have brought the Boks victory.
They did more than enough to win this entertaining Test. Great handling, great driving. Electrifying breaks. We should have been way ahead at halftime. But – sigh! - when you repeatedly make a dog's dinner of your own line-out on England's line, that's how it goes.
But we're back in the Big League as the World Cup approaches, improving all the time. Next week France. Zut! Alors! 'Erewego, 'erewego, 'erewego!
HEY, it's Guy Fawkes. Who's going to join me in a bit of tok-tokkie, gatelifting and crackers down the chimney tonight? Traditions must be maintained.
As in the town of Edenridge in Kent, England, where an enormous effigy of former foreign secretary Boris Johnson went up in flames last Saturday at an annual bonfire celebration, according to Sky News.
Predecessors chosen as Celebrity Guy by the Edenbridge Bonfire Society have been alleged sex pest Harvey Weinstein and Donald Trump. This time it's the Brexit bonfire.
TWO tourists go into a small pub in the Scottish highlands. They order a beer each.
"That'll be sixpence," says the barman.
"Threepence? What …"
It's oor centenary. We're servin' drinks at the prices of a hundred years ago."
"I say, how splendid." Then he notices a lot of people sitting on benches lining the wall. None has a drink. "But why aren't those fellows taking advantage?"
"They're waitin' for happy 'oor."
The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.