The Idler, Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Brexit and

the Monty

Python factor

BRITISH prime minister Theresa May has now had her Brexit deal defeated twice in the House of Commons. Parliament has voted that "no deal" crash-out Brexit cannot be followed. It has also voted that the March 29 Brexit date should be extended. It also threatens to take over the whole Brexit process from the government.

Theresa May has been lobbying furiously for her deal to be accepted by the House on the principle that, with the margin of defeat dropping every time, eventually she will get it through.

Dutch prime minister Mark Rutte says, rather bemusedly, that it reminds him of the Black Knight scene in the movie, Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

In this, the Black Knight confronts King Arthur at a small footbridge. "I move for no man." A swordfight ensues and Arthur chops of the Knight's left arm. Blood squirts copiously from under the armour.

"'Tis but a scratch," says the Black Knight and fights on with just his right. But Arthur lops that off as well. More squirting blood. Battle over?

King Arthur presumes so and kneels in a prayer of thanks. But the Black Knight kicks him in the head and accuses him of cowardice. The fight continues. Arthur lops off the Knight's left leg.

"I'm invincible!" cries the Black Knight.

"You're a loony," says Arthur.

Then, hopping on his one leg, the Black Knight headbutts Arthur in the stomach. At which Arthur cuts off the remaining leg. Then King Arthur and his page depart, leaving the Black Knight's limbless torso screaming threats after them: "Running away, eh? You yellow bastards! Come back here and take what's coming to ya! I'll bite your legs off!"

This is a striking analogy. Mark Rutte is obviously a man of great erudition.

The Speaker of the House of Commons has now ruled that Theresa May cannot submit her Brexit deal, as it stands, yet again for a vote as it's already been rejected twice. It would appear she has arrived at the "bite your legs off" stage of her struggle.

What comes next? Who can tell? Perhaps we need to rerun all the old Monty Python sketches to get an idea.

 

A DRIVER was pulled over by cops in Butler County, Pennsylvania, in the US, for driving erratically, according to Huffington Post.

He told officers he had just dropped off his girlfriend. But they smelled alcohol and breathalysed him. He was more than twice the legal limit.

His name: Daniel Sober. It could be an interesting court case, a defence of conflicting semantics in the charge sheet. It's worth a try.

 

 

Tailpiece

STUDENTS in an advanced biology class are taking their mid-term exam. The last question is: "Name seven advantages of Mother's Milk." The question is worth 70 marks or none at all.

A student writes:
1. It is the perfect formula for the child.
2. It provides immunity against several diseases.
3. It is always the right temperature.
4. It is inexpensive.
5. It bonds the child to mother and vice-versa.
6. It is always available as needed.

But then he's stuck. Finally, in desperation just before the bell rings for the end of the test, he writes:
7. It comes in two attractive containers and it's high enough off the ground where the cat can't get it.
He got an A+.

Last word

Perhaps in time the so-called Dark Ages will be thought of as including our own.

Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

The Idler, Tuesday, March 19, 2019

A movie

waiting to

be made

RACONTEUR Spyker Koekemoer (aka Pat Smythe) wants to know if they're ever going to get the bottom of the VBS bank scandal; arrest the villain who stole millions from what began as the Venda Building Society? Will this scoundrel go to jail?

And in such case will they make a movie called Prisoner of Venda? Heh, heh! This is a joke for the ballies.

In the bantustan days, Pretoria used to send an "ambassador" to Tohoyandu, capital of the sovereignly independent Republic of Venda. He was known as the "Prisoner of Venda" (There's not much doing in Tohoyandu). And this pun was based on a popular movie of the fifties called Prisoner of Zenda, starring Stewart Granger, Deborah Kerr and James Mason

Prisoner of Zenda was based on a novel written in 1894 by Anthony Hope, in which the King of Ruritania is drugged on the eve of his coronation and is unable to attend the ceremony. Political forces within the realm are such that, in order for the king to retain the crown, his coronation must proceed.

Fortuitously, an English gentleman on holiday in Ruritania, who resembles the monarch, is persuaded to act as his political decoy in an effort to save the unstable political situation of the interregnum.

Earlier movies of Prisoner of Zenda were made in 1913 (silent), 1922 and 1937. In 1979 a comedy version starred Peter Sellers and Lynne Frederick.

Then there's Royal Flash, a novel (later also a movie) by George MacDonald Fraser, based loosely on Prisoner of Zenda. In this, Flashman, the smoking, drinking public school cad of Thomas Hughes's Tom Brown's Schooldays, has to act as decoy for a Scandinavian prince. It's a while since I read Royal Flash, but I think the impersonation went as far as the princely bedchamber.

A great source of quality information is Spyker Koekemoer.

 

WHO noticed that in the Proteas' ODI victory over Sri Lanka just over a week ago, not a single batsman was bowled out? The bails and stumps were disturbed but once, and that was in a run-out. Nor was there a single LBW. All the other dismissals were catches.

How often does this happen?

The Street Shelter for the Over-Forties is not just a place of culture and intellectual discourse, it's also a mine of significant statistics.

 

INVESTMENT analyst Dr James Greener notes in his latest grumpy newsletter today's  escalation in figures.

"Not too long ago a million of anything, especially money, was a great deal.

"Those of us slightly more used to big numbers and scientific terminology could glibly talk about 'k' for thousands, 'bar' for a million and even a 'yard' for a billion. The fun was to watch journalists (and presidents) stumble over getting the terminology right.

"But now in the age of the Guptas, Joostes and government-scale corruption, anything less than a billion is chump change. Although criminals seem not yet able to talk of trillions they are already in use in our GDP and government expenditure records, and of course the three largest shares on the JSE have market cap measured in trillions."

 

Tailpiece

THIS little old fellow shuffles slowly into an ice cream parlour and pulls himself painfully, up on to a stool. After catching his breath, he orders a banana split.
Waitress (kindly): "Crushed nuts?"
"No, arthritis."

 

 

 

Last word

 

A little learning is a dangerous thing but a lot of ignorance is just as bad.

Bob Edwards
 

The Idler, Monday, March 18, 2019

Farewell to

mustachioed

magnificence

I FIND myself at a formal mess dinner in the Drill Hall. It's rather a large mess dinner, more than 200 people. They are here to say farewell to the magnificently mustachioed Colonel Pat Acutt who is retiring from military life after 47 years.

In the afternoon there was a helicopter fly-past and a cavalry ride-past in Pat's honour. (He spent most of his career with the Natal Mounted Rifles, today a tank regiment but one that has never forgotten its origins). A field gun was mounted on the forecourt by the Natal Field Artillery. As Senior Staff Officer, Reserve Forces KZN, Pat was responsible for all arms of the services, including the navy, but unfortunately they couldn't get a strike craft to the Drill Hall, not even at high tide.

It's a splendid occasion, a skirling of the pipes, a scurrying of the waiters, much bonhomie among the army, air force and naval officers and their ladies, including senior brass down from Pretoria. Pat has always been a gregarious type, a party animal, so all is as it should be.

Pat started his military career in 1972 as a national serviceman with 1SSB – Special Service Battalion (also known as Soldate Sonder Broek -Soldiers Without Pants). Then he joined the NMR (where his dad was honorary colonel), eventually becoming OC himself in 1996. Then in 2002 he was promoted to the post from which he has now retired after 17 years.

Pat saw combat beyond our borders in those far-off fraught days and has also spent more than half his years of military service in the current dispensation. He has gongs aplenty. One senses that he sees the military as a force for cohesion and conciliation as much as a defence against external threat.

A truly colourful character, it's sometimes difficult to remember he has spent much of his career in minute military planning. He's star of the show at the annual Trafalgar Dinner at Royal Natal Yacht Club, turning out in his cavalry blues and spurs and liberally enlivening the soup of all within reach with the contents of his hip flask. Then joining in with gusto as the Port and Starboard Watches hurl insults and abuse at each other in the later stages. Boys will be boys. Pat is certainly one of the boys.

Pat and his wife, Brenda, live fairly close to Reserve Forces HQ in Durban. As one of the speakers warned, the army haven't seen the last of him. I'm sure he's right - they can't do without him. There's no moustache to compare with his in the entire army.

I hope Pat hasn't had to return his hip flask to quartermaster's stores.

Tailpiece

A FELLOW is riding in a full bus minding his own business when the gorgeous woman next to him starts to breast-feed her baby. The baby won't take it so she says: "Come on, Sweetie, eat it all up or I'll have to give it to this nice man next to us."

Five minutes later the baby is still not feeding so she says: "Come on, Honey. Take it or I'll give it to this nice man here."

A few minutes later he blurts: "Come on, kid, make up your mind! I was supposed to get off four stops ago!"

Last word

I'm all in favour of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters.

Solomon Short

The Idler, Friday, March 15, 2019

Here's a

rugby

highlight

THE Paddys versus the Taffys tomorrow – that's the big 'un in the world of rugby. Can Ireland stop Wales getting the Six Nations Grand Slam, this on their home turf at the Principality Stadium with thousands of Welshmen singing their lungs out?

It's a big ask, yet if anyone can stop Wales, it's Ireland. It would mean no Grand Slam this year, leaving England, Ireland and Wales all with a chance to win the competition. Can it get closer than that?

The Six Nations has always been a great competition. We have no need to feel left out because we've got so many of our top players in the northern hemisphere, we're part of it.

Yet now it seems World Rugby is intent on creating a 12-team "League of Nations" competition every year, that would override everything else.

The idea is surely a bummer. We already have too much rugby. Player exhaustion is a growing factor. And what would the future be of existing competitions such as the Six Nations which so retains the atavistic spirit that lies at the heart of rugby? If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

 

 

CHRIS and Mike Ferry, of Florida, in the US, wanted to wish their dad (also Chris, 62, living in New Jersey) a resounding happy birthday. So they spent $2000 hiring a highway billboard near Atlantic City that featured a picture of their dad with the words: "Wish My Dad Happy Birthday — Love, Your Sons." Added was his telephone number.

Ferry's phone has been ringing off the hook with calls and, according to Huffington Post, "Every state in the union, Luxembourg, Nepal, Kenya, Philippines ... even that little island in the middle of the Indian Ocean, they tried calling me," says Ferry.

He estimates that he's received more than 15 000 calls and texts so far.

We hope Chris Ferry snr enjoyed his birthday, in spite of having to answer the phone all day.

 

Tailpiece

THE FBI has an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews, and testing there are three finalists, two men and a woman.

For the final test, the FBI agents take one of the men to a large metal door and hand him a gun.

"We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill Her!"
"You can't be serious, I could never shoot my wife."

"Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."

The second candidate is given the same instructions. He takes the gun and goes into the room. All is quiet for about five minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."
"You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."

Finally, it's the woman's turn. She's given the same instructions to kill her husband. She takes the gun and goes into the room. Shots are heard,one after another. They hear screaming, crashing, banging on the walls.
After a few minutes, all is quiet. The door opens slowly and there stands the woman. She wipes the sweat from her brow.

"This gun is loaded with blanks" she says. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."

Moral: Don't mess with the FBI. Especially not with woman agents.

 

Last word

Go, and never darken my towels again.

Groucho Marx

 

 

The Idler, Friday, March 15, 2019

Here's a

rugby

highlight

THE Paddys versus the Taffys tomorrow – that's the big 'un in the world of rugby. Can Ireland stop Wales getting the Six Nations Grand Slam, this on their home turf at the Principality Stadium with thousands of Welshmen singing their lungs out?

It's a big ask, yet if anyone can stop Wales, it's Ireland. It would mean no Grand Slam this year, leaving England, Ireland and Wales all with a chance to win the competition. Can it get closer than that?

The Six Nations has always been a great competition. We have no need to feel left out because we've got so many of our top players in the northern hemisphere, we're part of it.

Yet now it seems World Rugby is intent on creating a 12-team "League of Nations" competition every year, that would override everything else.

The idea is surely a bummer. We already have too much rugby. Player exhaustion is a growing factor. And what would the future be of existing competitions such as the Six Nations which so retains the atavistic spirit that lies at the heart of rugby? If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

 

 

CHRIS and Mike Ferry, of Florida, in the US, wanted to wish their dad (also Chris, 62, living in New Jersey) a resounding happy birthday. So they spent $2000 hiring a highway billboard near Atlantic City that featured a picture of their dad with the words: "Wish My Dad Happy Birthday — Love, Your Sons." Added was his telephone number.

Ferry's phone has been ringing off the hook with calls and, according to Huffington Post, "Every state in the union, Luxembourg, Nepal, Kenya, Philippines ... even that little island in the middle of the Indian Ocean, they tried calling me," says Ferry.

He estimates that he's received more than 15 000 calls and texts so far.

We hope Chris Ferry snr enjoyed his birthday, in spite of having to answer the phone all day.

 

Tailpiece

THE FBI has an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews, and testing there are three finalists, two men and a woman.

For the final test, the FBI agents take one of the men to a large metal door and hand him a gun.

"We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill Her!"
"You can't be serious, I could never shoot my wife."

"Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."

The second candidate is given the same instructions. He takes the gun and goes into the room. All is quiet for about five minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."
"You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."

Finally, it's the woman's turn. She's given the same instructions to kill her husband. She takes the gun and goes into the room. Shots are heard,one after another. They hear screaming, crashing, banging on the walls.
After a few minutes, all is quiet. The door opens slowly and there stands the woman. She wipes the sweat from her brow.

"This gun is loaded with blanks" she says. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."

Moral: Don't mess with the FBI. Especially not with woman agents.

 

Last word

Go, and never darken my towels again.

Groucho Marx

 

 

The Idler, Thuirsday, March 14, 2019,

Brexit – the

soap opera

hits some jolts

IT'S the "Croaky Horror Show". The headline in Fleet Street's Sun newspaper was unkind yet it captured the moment as Britain's Prime Minister Theresa May, suffering a terrible bout of laryngitis, expressed her disappointment at parliament's voting down for the second time her Brexit deal with the EU.

She croaked on to table yesterday's free vote on whether "no deal" Brexit should be removed as an option; also on today's vote as to whether Article 50 should be revoked – meaning no Brexit – or extended beyond March 29 so that a deal acceptable to both the House of Commons and the EU can be achieved.

It was sad and pitiful. Theresa May had been of the "Remain" faction of the Tory party, yet wholeheartedly embraced and clung grimly to her new (and unsought) position, determined not to split the party – yet in the end it was the hard Brexiteers who led the rebellion voting against her.

It was somehow a fitting finale to a phase of astonishing ineptitude in British statecraft where a referendum was called without any plan being in place to execute its fulfilment, and without apparent recognition of such issues as the Northern Ireland border and the Good Friday Agreement. It leaves Britain (and its trading partners) drifting, the future cohesion of the United Kingdom in question (Northern Ireland and Scotland voted against Brexit).

Did I say finale? It ain't over yet.

 

MORE from the snowy northern wastes of America. Police in Minnesota received a call to say a probably deranged figure was standing at the roadside knee-deep in the snow, without a coat and clutching a pillow.

According to Sky News, the cops followed directional instructions and found … a cardboard cut-out of a fellow clutching a pillow. It was advertising a locally manufactured brand of pillow.

But Baby, it's cold out there …

 

AUTRALIAN paraglider Jonathan Bishop had made a two-hour cross-country flight. But as he came down in a near-perfect landing in Namadgi National Park, outside Canberra, a kangaroo came bounding up.

"As it ran towards me I thought it was being friendly, says Bishop. "So I said: 'What's up, Skip?'"

But, according to Huffington Post, it was anything but friendly. The 'roo ran right up to him, adopted a boxer's stance and began sparring with him as he disengaged from his paragliding harness.

Bishop had no option but to spar back, at which the 'roo thought better of it and retreated. But what does Bishop expect? No kangaroo will take kindly to his territory being invaded by a giant flying fox – the world's biggest bat, found in Australia.

Tailpiece

INTO a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he's just been run
over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is
cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.
"What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.
" Jamie O'Connor an' me had a foight.".
"Dat little shrimp, O'Connor? He couldn't do dat to you. He
must've had someting in his hand."
"Dat he did. A shovel is what he had. And a terrible
lickin' he gave me wit it."
"You should've defended yourself. Didn't yez have
someting in your own hand?"
"Dat I did. Mrs. O'Connor's breast, and a ting of beauty
it is, but not much use in a foight."

Last word

Reality is the leading cause of stress amongst those in touch with it.

Jane Wagner

The Idler, Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Research

that really

matters

 

COUGARS are on the prowl. Scientific research in Canada confirms that older women are increasingly seeking out "toyboys" as they are more attentive to their desires and more energetic. Also, men of their own age show indifference to the charms of the cougars.

Dr Milaine Alarie of the National Institute of Scientific Research, in Montreal, interviewed 55 "cougars" aged between 30 and 60 and found evidence that younger men prefer these assertive and confident partners after having "disappointing experiences with women of their own age", according to the London Mail on Sunday.

This coincides with research being conducted right here in Durban where, by extraordinary coincidence, a study group at the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties has been conducting parallel investigations based on conversations with toyboys of yesteryear.

Their recollections are most vivid – some downright alarming – and are a useful survival guide for men who go in for a quiet pint and a natter, not looking to be dropped on out of the rafters by predatory damsels of mature years.

What emerges is that the cougars are insatiable, appetites not dulled by passage of the years. They're here to stay, it's an ongoing risk, heh, heh!

 

 

NEWS from America. In the small Vermont town of Fair Haven, they've elected a goat named Lincoln as "Honorary Pet Mayor".

Lincoln defeated a field of mostly dogs and cats and a gerbil named Crystal, according to Huffington Post. Runner-up was a dog named Sammie.

Lincoln will march in the Memorial Day parade wearing a custom-made sash, and will be expected to attend other local events.

Now let's have no snide comparisons with the White House.

 

 

IN HIS latest grumpy newsletter, investment analyst Dr James Greener gives attention to the country's problem of litter. He notes the Good Green Deeds programme launched in East London last week, President Cyril Ramaphosa in attendance.

"Very laudably the programme is 'aimed at changing behaviour towards littering, illegal dumping and towards waste in general'. "Without in any way denigrating this programme and its aims, one does wonder why our leaders don't first just enforce the already quite severe existing laws about where and how one can throw stuff away.

"Beverage cans and fast food packaging are the nation's main indicator of population density ,showing that previous campaigns like the decades-old 'Zap it in a Zibi Can' never made an impact.

"It would probably also be worth testing if putting even a tiny value on virtually any type of waste will attract the attention of the frighteningly large number of people who scavenge for a living. The fact that scrap metal and cardboard packaging is so quickly retrieved from domestic rubbish awaiting collection must be a guideline."

 

 

Tailpiece

TWO guys are drinking in a bar on the 20^th floor. Says one: "I betcha 200 bucks I can jump out that window then jump back in again."

The bet is on. The guy jumps out of the window, disappears for a second then comes back in again.

"Okay, let's see you do it again. Doubles or quits."

The first guy jumps out again, disappears for a second, then he's back inside again."

"There's gotta be some trick here. Okay, this time I'll jump. A thousand bucks on it?"

He goes to the window, jumps out and plummets to his death.

Barman: "You're a bastard when you've had a few drinks, Superman!"

 

Last word

There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.

Sir Francis Bacon

Idler Tuesday, March 12, 2019

Tricky

terrain

ahead

 

I VENTURE on to treacherous terrain. Readers might recall my recounting, a week or two ago - on receiving the sad news of the death of former Idler Jack Shepherd-Smith - some of the highlights of his career.

One was when he wrote of a beauty contest in Ladysmith that nobody won. The town rose in its wrath.

The town council called a special meeting to pass a motion of censure on The Mercury. A gang of Ladysmith toughs tried to kidnap Jack. It was touch and go. The rest of the province were helpless with laughter. Anything could happen.

Gradually the fuss subsided. Then Jack wrote another piece about a "Miss Lucky Legs" contest they held in Ladysmith. It was won by the billiard table in the Royal Hotel. The town erupted in anger once again. Civil war in the province once again loomed. There was also a faction of Ladysmith folk who were enraged that the grand piano in the town hall had been overlooked.

These were tense times indeed. It took a long time to simmer down. You drove at your peril through Ladysmith in a signwritten Mercury vehicle.

And now we have the Groot Pampoenfees - Giant Pumpkin Festival – at Heidelberg, Gauteng. It draws entrants from all over the country.

It was won last weekend by Jacob du Plessis, who farms at Villiersdorp in the Western Cape. He won with a monster pumpkin weighing an astonishing 601.8kg.

Second and third places went to a husband and wife duo, Piet and Elizna Lotz, of Riversdale, also in the Western Cape.

The Heidelberg Groot Pampoenfees is quite an event. It draws entrants from all over. The winners get nice cash prizes. It's also a fun thing. There's even a contest for the ugliest and the prettiest pumpkin.

Who won that? Er, gals named Josie and Jemima. They're twins.

But which won which? Which was ugliest pumpkin, which was prettiest pumpkin?

It doesn't matter. They're identical twins.

Where are they from?

Er, here we get to that treacherous terrain mentioned earlier. With an election looming, can we afford the risk of civil commotion? Yet a precedent has been set by my illustrious predecessor. Who am I to conceal the facts? The unvarnished truth must out. Publish and be damned!

The gals Josie and Jemima, identical twins, adjudged in Heidelberg as ugliest pumpkin and prettiest pumpkin, are from Ladysmith.

This is an emergency. Call out the marines!

 

STILL with giant pumpkins, the South African record has been broken at the Walkerville Agricultura Show, also in Gauteng, where a fellow named Peet Joubert produced a whopper weighing 613kg.

Peet says he spends several hours a day giving his prize pumpkin pure love and attention.

Oh, to be in a vegetable patch at Walkerville, caressing a giant pumpkin.

 

OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties: "The best way to get a bloke to do something is suggest he's too old to do it."

 

Tailpiece

A LITTLE Cockney girl and her mother are walking down the road in Greenwich when they see a naval wedding, 12 midshipmen holding up sculling oars at the church entrance to form a bridal arch.

"Coo, mum, look at them oars."

"Them ain't 'ores, luv, them's bridesmaids."

 

Last word

It is a good rule in life never to apologise. The right sort of people do not want apologies, and the wrong sort take a mean advantage of them.

PG Wodehouse

The Idler, Monday, March 11, 2019

It's the

spirit of

the Blitz

CRUNCH time for Brexit this week. Will Theresa May somehow reverse the staggering defeat her deal with the EU suffered in the House of Commons the first time round? What's happened to change things?

Would defeat mean a cliff-edge crash-out on March 29. Or – more likely – will parliament intervene to push forward the deadline. Theresa May herself warns that Brexit might not even happen.

People are stockpiling food. Not just householders but the large food chains as well. Cold storage depots are stacked to the ceiling.

A spirit of the Blitz is abroad. And the wondcr is that this time it's entirely self-inflicted.

Has British statecraft ever been in such a shambles? Probably not since the days of King Ethelred the Unready. The pun is based on the Saxon noun "unraed", which means "evil counsel", "bad plan" or "folly".

 

 

SAY not the struggle naught availeth … the Sharks looked dead in the water against the Bulls at halftime on Saturday. Yet they turned in a creditable second half and were even in with a sniff at one stage, in spite of that nightmarish first half in which they conceded a string of goalable penalties.

Okay, the Bulls wrapped it up in the end with a scorcher of a try. But for the Sharks it meant mere defeat as against annihilation.

In the Six Nations, Wales are still on course for a Grand Slam if they can beat Ireland at home next Sunday – which happens to be St Patrick's Day.

If they don't get the Grand Slam (which means winning all five matches), England and Ireland are still in with a chance to win the competition.

How close can you get?

 

 

NEWS from the snowbound wastes of the US. An Oregon man and his dog survived for five days trapped in the snow in an SUV, eating sachets of fiery taco sauce and nothing else.

Jeremy Taylor and his dog, Ally, were offroading in Deschutes County when they became stuck in a deep snowdrift, according to Huffington Post.

Jeremy started the vehicle at intervals to keep warm and found the taco sauce packets in the cubby hole. Eventually a kid on a snowmobile spotted them and raised the alarm with the county sheriff's office, who organised a rescue.

Taco sauce for five days and nothing else - one imagines Jeremy has had enough of the stuff for a while. But the manufacturers heard of the incident and are so thrilled by this endorsement of their product that they've promised Jeremy a year's free supply.

I suppose Ally can always hide under the house when the delivery van arrives.

Tailpiece

THIS fellow gets chatting to a dog in a pet shop. A talking dog? He buys him on the turn and heads for the pub.

"I bet anyone here R50 this dog talk can talk."

Several people take him up. But the dog stays schtum. The fellow has to pay up.

As they get outside, the dog starts chatting away again.

"What's wrong with you? Now you start talking."

"Felt a bit shy, man."

"Shy? Now I'm shy of 400 bucks. Make sure you talk tomorrow!"

"You bet."

The following evening it's the same bet, the stakes doubled. The dog stays schtum.

"What is it with you? That's twice now."

"Wise up, man. Think of the odds we'll get tomorrow."

 

Last word

 

I can't understand why people are frightened of new ideas. I'm frightened of the old ones.

John Cage

The Idler, Friday, March 8, 2019

Stiffed for

a lousy

six bucks

PRESIDENT Donald Trump's reputation as a dealmaker took a knock when nothing materialised from his summit in Hanoi with North Korean dictator Kim Jung-un. Now, according to the New Yorker, he's been stiffed for six dollars by a McDonald's waitress.

"Capping a singularly disastrous week for the Commander-in-Chief, Donald J Trump stormed out of a Washington McDonald's restaurant on Friday after failing to close a six-dollar Meal Deal at the establishment.

"At approximately 12.30pm, Trump took a break from his designated 'executive time' to travel to the nearby McDonald's, where he placed an order for a Meal Deal consisting of a Quarter Pounder with cheese, fries, Coke, and an apple pie.

"Tracy Klugian, the McDonald's employee who took Trump's order, said that she was aware of Trump's difficulty in closing deals and therefore hiked the price of the Meal Deal to 12 dollars.

"'I really thought he would drive a harder bargain, what with 'The Art of the Deal' and all,' the McDonald's staffer said. 'I was kind of surprised when he just baled.'

"With the McDonald's deal in tatters, one White House aide acknowledged that Trump 'really needs a win right now',"and that he was en route to Arby's."

Yes, this is rascally satirist Andy Borowitz again.

 

Base jumper Matt McGonagle came close the other day to making a landing that could have been scripted for the old "Looney Tunes" cartoons, according to Huffington Post.

Base jumpers are those fellows who paraglide off high buildings, cliff-edges, towers and other high points.

McGonagle had just leaped from a 100m high antenna in Arizona when the wind took him a little off course and he found himself coming down in a cactus patch.

Desperately manoeuvring and emitting a few cartoon-like squeals, he managed to dodge several crotch-height cacti before coming down safely.

That's all folks!

 

SCOTTISH grandmother Moira Boxall arrived home after a trip to Australia to discover a small snake curled up inside a shoe in her suitcase, according to Sky News.

The snake had somehow smuggled itself into her baggage for the 14 000km flight from Queensland to Glasgow.

Grandma Boxall called the SPCA who took it away for safekeeping.

It seems these Aussie snakes will stop at nothing to get to the UK. I recall a fellow a few years ago being found to be carrying one though customs and immigration in his Y-fronts. Confusion upon confusion.

 

THE Bulls at Loftus tomorrow. Let's hope coach Robert has put some itchy-powder in the jockstraps to ensure a livelier performance than last week. But nil desperandum.

In the Six Nations, the one to watch is Wales versus Scotland. Unless Scotland somehow pull a rabbit out of the hat, the Taffys will be well on their way to a Grand Slam.

Tailpiece

THE old pirate and a cabin boy are chatting.

"How did you lose your leg?"

"It were a strong squall that blew me into the water and a shark bit it orf."

"And how did you lose your hand."

"We 'ad a longboat on the river fetchin' fresh water. I put me 'and in and a crocodile bit it orf."

"And your eye?"

"Oi were standin' on deck when a seagull pooped in me oi."

"Really? Seagull poop took your eye out?"

"Well, Oi'd only just 'ad this 'ook fitted."

Last word

A man can sleep around, no questions asked, but if a woman makes nineteen or twenty mistakes she's a tramp.

Joan Rivers