The Idler, Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Graduate job opportunities

A BRITISH university graduate has taken a job as a scarecrow. Jamie Fox, 22, studied music and English at Bangor University, north Wales, but today he sits in a field near Norfolk wearing a bright orange coat and equipped with a cowbell, an accordion and a ukulele.

His job is to protect 10 acres of oilseed rape from birds, mainly partridges. When they circle he goes into action, running about and kicking up a din. The rest of the time he mainly reads.

For this he is paid fairly reasonably. The farmer says it's worth it because other bird-scaring devices just don't work.

It might sound a bit of a dead end for a university graduate, but you never know. Connect up with a cowardly lion, a tin man and a girl named Dorothy and showbiz beckons.

Hamster wheel

IF YOU CAN imagine a Mississippi paddle steamer of the Tom Sawyer era – but consisting of one paddle wheel and nothing much else – then you have a picture of Chris Todd's "human hamster wheel" that set out the other day to cross the Irish Sea.

He built the contraption in his backyard. It consisted of a large treadmill supported by two outrigger floats. His objective: to cross from Trearddur Bay, in North Wales, to Greystones harbour in Ireland - a distance of 105 km – all to raise funds for charity. He provided the locomotive power, stepping on the treadmill.

All went well as he set out on a flat calm sea but after progressing 25km the wind came up and matters went quickly awry. A giant hamster wheel with outrigger floats is not the ideal craft for the Irish Sea in a storm and very soon the contraption disintegrated and went to Davey Jones's locker. Todd himself was rescued.

Irish monks are said by some to have been the first Europeans to cross to America. They probably didn't use human hamster wheels.

Cockroach feast

A MAN DIED soon after winning a cockroach-eating contest at Deerfield Beach in South Florida, in the United States.

Edward Archbold, 32, had just won the grand prize of a python after downing dozens of live roaches, as well as some worms. The contest – which had about 30 entrants – was at a reptile store.

Archbold was in fine fettle after he'd out-guzzled his opponents but he suddenly became ill and collapsed outside the shop. He was taken to hospital where he was pronounced dead.

Nobody seems to think it was the cockroaches that did it. In fact it seems they're considered quite nutritious. None of the other contestants suffered any ill-effects. Maybe Archbold ate something unusual for breakfast, like a slice of toast, and was killed by the shock.

Short stories

THE ST CLEMENT'S book of 100-word short stories was launched at the Alliance Francaise this week, many of the authors reading their own work. There was some clever stuff such as Inger May Harber's Us and We (in verse form).

When did he and she

become You and Me?

And when did you and me

become Us and We?

 

A few whirling burnt dinner parties pass

with sweet nights slept in your breath.

Then one day, the coffee in the cup is cold.

And I am just a comma, not a full stop.

I try to pull you back for just a moment of warmth.

Like mould on the ceiling I can't help but stare at,

you're where my mind goes.

 

But now you and she is an Us and We.

And you and me,

We're just you and me.

Pronouns, punctuation … it's the Eternal Triangle.

Chucked out

OVERHEARD at the Street Shelter for the Over-40s: "There was this woman streaker in here last night – magnificent boobs! She got thrown out by the bouncers."

 

Tailpiece

HE'S ASLEEP in bed with his wife. An electric storm approaches. Suddenly the room is filled with the white flash of lightning.

He leaps out of bed: "I'll buy the negatives! I'll buy the negatives!"

Last word

 

Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them. There's many a best-seller that could have been prevented by a good teacher.

Flannery O'Connor

 

The Idler, Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Backwoodsman comes to town

SUCH drollery the other evening at the Street Shelter for the Over-40s. This fellow had come in from the backwoods of Assagay, wearing a pair of mountain hiking boots. Threading his way through the throng to discuss with me a point of Aristotelian as opposed to Kantian metaphysics – a subject of which they never tire at the Street Shelter – he took a short cut across a small patch of garden.

Except that the small patch of garden was in fact a pond with lilies floating on the surface. Splash! One mountain hiking boot absolutely sodden.

So he took it off, wrang the sock out and left it to dry on a spoke of the overhead umbrella. Very practical these backwoodsmen.

But a fellow looks silly sitting there with only one boot on. So he took off the other one as well. Then when nature called, off he padded to the gents'. There he was the object of some derision as he stood sans footwear.

"Hey man, I like your Nikes!" one of the punters remarked.

The humour can be biting at the Street Shelter for the Over-40s. You transgress the dress code at your peril.

 

Cricket woes

IN HIS LATEST grumpy newsletter, investment analyst Dr James Greener makes a connection between the shambles in education and our shambolic performance in the T20 cricket.

"The Proteas' ignominious departure from the T20 World Cup with not a single win in the second round of the tournament was disgraceful. It seems our cricket players are not very good at doing the division sums required for understanding run rate. Is cricket another victim of the crumbling school system?"

 

Who cares?

JAMES probably has a point. But does it really matter what happens in T20 cricket? Is it real cricket anyway? We won the test series and we're top of the world ratings, and that's what counts.

 

Test cricket is to one-day cricket as chess is to draughts. T20 rates somewhere with pocket billiards.

 

Canterbury tale

SECURITY staff searching people at a courthouse in Kent, England, seized and confiscated a tarantula.

It happened in Canterbury. The man with the tarantula was there to offer support to a friend who was appearing in court. Whether the tarantula was intended to play some sort of role in this support is not clear. At any rate it was put in a sealed container and returned to its owner after the case.

Why this crackdown on tarantulas? On the rare occasions I go to court, I always take a bagful of scorpions to offer the legal team a snack at teabreak.

 

Honeybee blues

THE BEES in the town of Ribeauville, in north-eastern France, have started producing blue honey. It's caused some consternation. Where could they be gathering this unnatural coloration?

Could it be from the hair salons frequented by the blue rinse brigade? Do the French have the equivalent of our "blue train" connoisseurs, who decant methylated spirits?

The beekeepers of Ribeauville have been abuzz. Quite apart from the mystery, nobody will buy blue honey. But they think they've discovered the source of the problem - a plant that recycles waste from a chocolate factory. The bees are believed to have been collecting sugary waste from the plant, which has a blue tinge.

There's surely a blues number in this:

Woke up this mornin'

An' I said to ma honey,

Babe, I'm feelin' so blue …

Griqua country

NOW WHY SHOULD Nasa want to scoop a soil sample from the Kimberley rugby field?

Oh sorry, my mistake. This photograph of a desolate stretch of sand and rocks is of the surface of Mars, where the Curiosity space rover is about to start digging.

The Kimberley ground – home of the Griquas – does in fact have some patches of green on it. Those are the devil thorns.

A tough theatre of rugby, as the Lions discovered last Saturday, latest in a string of casualties including ourselves.

But on Friday it's the greensward of King's Park. Remember the Alamo!

Tailpiece

EMILY-SUE falls off a ladder and breaks her leg. Billy-Bob calls for an ambulance.

Emergency control room operator: "Where do you live?"

"At 1132 Eucalyptus Drive."

"Can you spell that for me?"

A pause. Then: "How 'bout if I drag her over to Oak Street?"

Last word

Sanity is a madness put to good use.

George Santayana

 

The Idler, Monday, October 8, 2012

Politics and sport

THE WASHINGTON Nationals are an American baseball team. They've developed a strange tradition. Halfway through a home game, a race is staged between giant lookalikes of former US presidents, made out of foam.

The other day a 10 feet tall Teddy Roosevelt streaked home against George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln.

The pundits are now wondering if there's an augury in this. Teddy Roosevelt was a Republican. Mitt Romney fared pretty well in the recent TV debate with Barack Obama.

Perhaps we should organise something similar for the Currie Cup final – get giant lookalikes of leaders stretching was back to the early days; maybe get from it a pointer to the future.

In that case my money's on Smuts. (But this could be wishful thinking).

Spring is sprung

SPRING is here and the Cape canaries are in full song. The paving is carpeted with squishy black mulberries.

The other day I noticed canaries pecking at the mulberries on the ground, even though they are normally seed-eaters. Then I saw a Natal robin join them. He normally eats insects.

The birds just can't resist mulberry jam.

Tiny dinosaur

PALAEONTOLOGISTS at the University of Chicago have classified a tiny dinosaur from southern Africa that looks like something between a bird, a porcupine and a vampire.

They took their time identifying Pegomastax africanus (which means "thick jaw from Africa"). Its fossil was found in a slab of red rock in the 1960s and first came to their attention in 1983.

The dinosaur is only 61cm in length and would have been about the weight of a house cat. It had fangs and a blunt beak.

Something between a bird, a porcupine and a vampire – that sounds like just the thing to control vervet monkeys. But if you're thinking they should look around for fossil eggs and see if they can be incubated – forget it! Pegomastax africanus was vegetarian.

No ticket to ride

IN FLORIDA you ride a manatee at your peril. A woman who was spotted - and photographed - riding one in the surf has been tracked down by the Pinellas County sheriff's office and warned that she could be prosecuted.

What's a manatee? It's a large, herbivorous, seal-like creature that feeds on seaweed and so forth in tropical waters. Off the Mozambique coast it is known as a dugong. Some people call it a sea cow (though don't confuse it with a seekoei, which is a hippo).

The manatee/dugong gave rise to the legend among sailors of the mermaid. It's not the most glamorous creature – to be honest, it's plug-ugly - and those sailors had obviously been at sea a long time.

Ana Gutierrez was spotted frolicking with the manatee, climbing on its back and riding it, at Fort de Soto Park, near St Petersburg. This is in direct contravention of Florida's laws to protect manatees from such treatment. She says she's a newcomer to the area and was not aware of the law.

How the manatee took it we are not told. Ana Gutierrez is not a bad-looking gal, though a little on the buxom side. Most of us humans would be a little nervous of being ridden by her in the surf, let alone manatees.

 

Shoot a hoop

HEY DUDE, how about shootin' a hoop down at Albert Park this Saturday?

The YMCA is trying to set up a Guinness world record by mobilising five million people to shoot basketball hoops in 96 cities across five continents and lots of different time zones, all on the same day. It starts in New Zealand and ends in Hawaii.

Albert Park will be part of the South African contribution. The same thing will be happening in Athlone, Cape Town.

The day's activities worldwide will be connected by live broadcasting and social media.

Says the Rev Ian Booth, of the Greater Durban YMCA: "We're hoping that everyone coming to Albert Park will be brave enough to shoot a hoop. The whole day is going to be extremely colourful, along with some competitive action on the court."

Further information: thandeka@saymca.org.za or 031-305 4496.

Tailpiece

She: "How much have you had to drink?"

He: "Absholuuutititly nothing. Hic!"

She: "Look at me! It's either me or the pub – which is it?"

He: "It must be you. I can tell by the voice."

Last word

Everybody hates me because I'm so universally liked.

Peter de Vries

 

The Idler, Friday, October 5, 2012

Two-headed snakes

CORROBORATION at last. Listening idly to East Coast radio, I learn that a two-headed snake recently hatched from a batch of brown house snake eggs in a Durban pet shop.

This is riveting news. Many years ago now I wrote a despatch from the depths of the Maiombe rain forest - I was in the Angolan enclave of Cabinda at the time – to the effect that the region was host to a two-headed snake, another violet-coloured snake that sang seductively in the night and gorillas that played the bongo drums.

I was accused by the sub-editors of smoking exotic substances. My story was not taken seriously. I received rude and derisive telexes from South Africa.

But here is vindication. I shall seek out that pet shop and inquire whether they also have any violet-coloured snakes that croon in the evenings. I suppose bongo-playing gorillas would be too much to expect this far south, but a baboon who is reasonably accomplished on the ukulele would serve my case.

Total accuracy is the yardstick. Watch this space!

 

Three bears

HERE is a far more realistic account of the well-known children's story.

Baby bear looks into his small bowl. "'Who's been eating my porridge?" he squeaks.

Daddy Bear looks into his big bowl. "Who's been eating my porridge?" he roars.

Mummy Bear puts her head through the serving hatch from the kitchen and yells: "For pity's sake, how many times do I have to go through this with you idiots?

"It was Mummy Bear who got up first. It was Mummy Bear who woke everyone in the house. It was Mummy Bear who made the coffee. It was Mummy Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last night and put everything away. It was Mummy Bear who swept the floor in the kitchen. It was Mummy Bear who went out in the cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper. It was Mummy Bear who set the damned table. It was Mummy Bear who walked the dog, cleaned the cat's litter tray, gave them their food and refilled their water.

"And now you've decided to drag yourselves downstairs and grace Mummy Bear with your grumpy presence, listen carefully because I'm only going to say this once ...

"I haven't made the flippin' porridge yet!"



Book launch

STAND by for the book launch of the century. This year's edition of the St Clement's short stories will be offered to the public on Monday at a soiree at the Alliance Francaise in Sutton Crescent, Morningside. Thereafter they will be in Adams bookstore.

The St Clement's short stories are selected from a competition every year to coincide with the winter solstice – shortest day of the year. Two things made this year's competition different. The short stories had to be exactly 100 words (including title); and former colleague Caroline Howie and myself were judges. (It's amazing how closely the independent initial assessments of Caroline and I converged).

How does one write a story in 100 words? It's not easy, as musician Rick Andrew explains in his contribution to the book.

A hundred words

"Write a story in one hundred words? Why?"

"Because that's the challenge. You have to learn to be concise and compress ideas."

"Does it have to be exactly one hundred words?"

"Yes. It's a competition and each entry has to be exactly one hundred words."

"OK. So let's see … Once upon a time there was a greengrocer who sold his produce from his shop just off Jan Smuts highway. His wife, dissatisfied with their income, decided to purchase a suitcase with a false bottom. She was about to …"

"Sorry mate that's it. You've used up your hundred words."

·         To clear up any confusion resulting from an editing glitch in Wednesday's column, the Mondays at Six soirees – normally held at St Clement's restaurant, Musgrave Road - will be held instead this month at the Alliance Francaise. St Clement's meanwhile remains open as a restaurant. The evening soirees will revert there in November.

 

Tailpiece

HOW MANY book cover blurb writers does it take to screw in a light bulb?

A vast and teeming horde stretching from sea to shining sea.

Last word

There are no wise few. Every aristocracy that has ever existed has behaved, in all essential points, exactly like a small mob.

G K Chesterton

The Idler, Thursday, October 4, 2012

Bright light in sky

A NEWLY-DISCOVERED comet should become one of the brightest lights in the sky - even outshining the moon, according to astronomers.

Russian astronomers recently spotted comet 2012 S1 (ISON) 90 million kilometres from the earth. It is currently a faint glow streaking between Saturn and Jupiter, but as the sun's gravity draws the comet closer, dust and ice will be blasted off, giving it a highly reflective tail.

Depending how big the tail gets, the three-kilometre wide comet may become more visible for a few months in late 2013 and early 2014. It should also provide a brilliant spectacle to be captured by the Rover exploratory mission on Mars, as it streaks past.

"If it lives up to expectations, this comet may be one of the brightest in history," Raminder Singh Samra, of the HR MacMillan Space Centre in Canada, says.

Hmmm. Comets are taken in many quarters to be portents of momentous change. Late in 2013 and early in 2014 we will be in top gear for a general election, which has to be held some time between April and July. The politicos will be really stomping. Could this shining light in the sky have an influence on voters?

Will it become known as Zille's Comet? Or Zuma's Comet (presuming he makes it in Bloemfontein and finds solutions to a number of things that have so far eluded him)? Please not Malema's Comet.

Auto-correct

DIGITAL dilemma: A problem with auto-correct is that you always end up posting some thong you didn't Nintendo.

 

 

Regimental tradition

 

LAST week's mention of the mess traditions of the Natal Mounted Rifles and the Umvoti Mounted Rifles reminded Denzil Bazley of his time with the Cape Town Highlanders.

 

Elizabeth, the British Queen Mother, had been colonel-in-chief of the regiment and was still considered unofficial colonel-in-chief in spite of the long years of apartheid and isolation.

 

Denzil was at an El Alamein dinner about 1982. It came time to toast the President (who would have been PW Botha). The colonel firmly and loudly added: "And the Queen Mother!"

 

"To which there was a loud and unanimous chorus:"Bless her!" (But what the Highlanders had to say about the President doesn't bear repeating). Denzil says he was to witness the routine many times over.

 

"The CTH had contingents marching at the Queen Mother's 100^th birthday parade and at her funeral parade, such was the recognition and affection that existed between the Queen Mother and the regiment throughout the dark days of apartheid."

 

 

Shocker

 

A NEWSPAPER clipping comes this way: "Gauteng police have just announced the discovery of an arms cache of 200 semi-automatic rifles with 250 000 rounds of ammunition; 10 anti-tank missiles, four grenade launchers, two tons of heroin, R80 million in forged South African banknotes and 25 trafficked prostitutes, all in a block of flats behind the Hillbrow Public Library.

"Local residents were stunned. A community spokesman said: "We're shocked. We never even knew we had a library."

This is, of course, a hoax … isn't it?

Feuilletonism

 

READER Des Levin informs me that I am a feuilletonist. This not being a word with which I am familiar, I look it up and the word feuilleton means: "The part of a European newspaper devoted to light fiction, reviews, and articles of general entertainment; an article appearing in such a section; a novel published in instalments; a light, popular work of fiction; a short literary essay or sketch."

 

I gather Des approves of feuilletonism, so I thank him. At least he didn't call me a bloody feuilletonist.

 

 

Table for two

OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-40s: "It's the wife's birthday. We're doing something special, I've booked a table for two. Trouble is, she's terrible at snooker."

Tailpiece

 

A JUGGLER on his way to a gig is pulled over by the cops. "Why have
you got kerosene and matches?" asks the cop.

 

"I'm a juggler and I juggle burning torches in my act."

The cop is suspicious: "Let's see you do it."

 

The juggler gets out and starts juggling the burning torches.

Passing motorist to his wife: "Wow, I'm glad I quit drinking. Look at what they make you do now!"

 

Last word

Posterity is as likely to be wrong as anyone else.

Heywood Broun

 

The Idler, Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Let's be serious now

 

AN IRANIAN news agency has been fooled into publishing a fake poll from a satirical US website that claimed many Americans prefer Iran's leader, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, to Barack Obama.

 

The Onion, based in Chicago, said 77 percent of rural workers would rather go to a baseball game or have a beer with Ahmadinejad than Obama. The piece was repeated word for word by Fars News Agency.

 

Another piece in The Onion depicts Ahmadinejad glowing green and telling UN delegates he's an actual weapon of mass destruction.

 

Not too long ago it reported that Congress is considering moving from Washington, and this was given splash treatment in China in the state-run Beijing Evening News.

 

All this is irresponsible and childish. I hope it doesn't detract from the credibility of my own despatch to Fars News Agency, to the effect that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is 43 percent more popular in South Africa than Jacob Zuma; that he's 48 percent more popular than Julius Malema; that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is considered a certainty to win the Idols song competition; and that Heyneke Meyer has selected him to play fly-half against the All Blacks on Saturday.

 

Let's have none of this frivolity. We foreign correspondents have standards to maintain.

 

Prison bars

TWO MEN LOOK out the same prison bars; one sees mud and the other stars …The lines by Frederick Langbridge came to mind as Paulette Barker presented the remarkable splashes of colour and skillful portrait work achieved in a programme at Westville Prison where inmates with absolutely no previous training were put through a painting course.

The presentation was at the resumed Mondays at Six soiree that is being held this month at the Alliance Francaise in Sutton Crescent, Morningside, and will resume in November at St Clement's, in Musgrave Road.

Also in the presentation was Lenny Pillay, a former Westville inmate and participant in the art programme, who accompanied himself on the guitar as he sang Starry Starry Night, the tribute to Van Gogh.

Stirring stuff!

Read all about it!

DEBRA Bouwer sends in some headlines from American newspapers:

·         Missipi's literacy program shows improvement

·         Bugs flying around with wings are flying bugs

·         Marijuana issue sent to joint committee

·         Homeless survive winter: Now what?

·         17 REMAIN DEAD IN MORGUE SHOOTING SPREE

Great stuff! But nothing beats my favourite in the erstwhile News of the World: "Nudist camp manager finds model wife naked in bed with Chinese hypnotist from co-op bacon factory."

 

 

 

The ocean wave

 

SOME thoughts on oceanography from small children:

 

·        If you are surrounded by ocean, you are an island. If you don't have ocean all round you, you are incontinent. (Mike, 7)

·        Sharks are ugly and mean, and have big teeth, just like Emily Richardson. She's not my friend any more. (Kylie, 6)

·        Some fish are dangerous. Jellyfish can sting. Electric eels can give you a shock. They have to live in caves under the sea where I think they have to plug themselves into chargers. (Christopher, 7)

·        My dad was a sailor on the ocean. He knows all about the ocean. What he doesn't know is why he quit being a sailor and married my mom. (James, 7)

 

 

Tailpiece

A YOUNG Irish student is in the countryside hitchhiking back to Dublin on a very dark night and in the midst of a big storm.

The night rolls on and no cars come by. The storm is so strong he can hardly see ahead of himself. Then a car comes slowly towards him and stops. 

Desperate for shelter and without thinking, he gets in and closes the door ... only to find there's was nobody behind the wheel. Nor is the engine running. Yet the car starts moving slowly. Then it gathers speed slightly.

A curve is approaching. Then a hand appears out of nowhere through the window and turns the wheel.

Then the lights of a pub appear. The student leaps out of the car and runs to it. He bursts inside and starts gibbering about his unearthly experience. 

Then the door opens again and two men walk in from the storm, also soaked and out of breath.

"Look, Frank, dere's de eedjit dat jumped in your car while we was pushin'."

 

Last word

Never be afraid to laugh at yourself, after all, you could be missing out on the joke of the century.

Dame Edna Everage

 

The Idler, Tuesday, October 2, 2012

The new Big Cheese

A NEW ELEMENT has entered rugby. The TMO (television match official) has suddenly taken centre stage at critical moments. Whereas before he used to rule on whether a try was scored or not scored – and nothing else – today he spools back into build-up and he dishes out red cards and yellow cards. The TV camera zooms in on him as he sits there in his glass cage deciding. Suddenly he's the Big Cheese.

Is this good? John Plumtree appears not to think so. Yet if it had not been for the TMO, the Bulls would not have been awarded that early drop-goal last Friday that fooled everyone – including the commentators – as it somehow scraped over the crossbar.

A few weeks ago against Western Province the camera zoomed in on the TMO who - to the slight consternation of local supporters – seemed to be wearing a blue and white shirt.

But he ended up dishing out two red cards to Province and one yellow. So that was all right then. But these celebrity TMOs must be careful what they wear.

Wined, dined

YESTERDAY we discussed a book, Cry of the Rocks, written by my former colleague Pixie Emslie (Pixie Malherbe in the days I worked with her). That name will ring a bell with thousands of people in KZN, and indeed across the whole country.

Pixie was a fairly distant relative of Dr Ernest Malherbe, famous principal and vice-chancellor of the University of Natal. Their fathers were cousins.

It was absolutely in character that, when Ernest discovered a Malherbe enrolled as a student, he should have summoned Pixie (quaking in her boots) to his office to find out where she belonged in the clan. Thereafter Pixie was regularly wined and dined at places like the Durban Club and given fascinating insights to the society in which she lived.

Malherbe, an Afrikaner liberal, combined intellect with charm and humour. He had been a confidante of Smuts as the prime minister's Director of Intelligence during World War II. He still had the shrewdest grasp of what was going on.

I hope Pixie scored well in exams.

 

Had the dirt

ERNEST Malherbe was a fascinating person, but he could leave you with a feeling of emptiness. He was one of those whose advice Smuts ignored in the run-up to the fateful 1948 election.

As Director of Intelligence, he had the dirt on the Broederbond – how it had undermined the war effort, infiltrated society in all kinds of ways, white-anted the civil service. They were ready to go public with all this – political dynamite – but Smuts unaccountably hung back.

Malherbe was also one of those who implored Smuts to order a redelimitation of constituency boundaries because they had become hopelessly skewed in favour of the platteland.

It's history now that the Nats won in 1948 on a ridiculously small minority vote overall. They didn't get a majority vote until well into the 60s.

How different our story over the past 64 years could have been. The emptiness is still there.

Life's a lottery

A Norwegian family keep hitting the jackpot. Every time the daughter of the Oksnes family gets pregnant, somebody wins the national lottery.

It's happened three times now in six years. In 2006 father Leif won. In 2010 daughter Hege Jeanette herself won. And last week brother Tord won. Each jackpot coincided with Hege Jeanette falling pregnant.

Her three other brothers are now paying close attention to her condition. Ten children should be her target, they say.

 

No answer

 

ZOLTAN de Rosner, of Pennington, agrees that leopards – or a spreading of their dung - are no answer to the problem of vervet monkeys in suburban gardens.

 

 

 

"Another likely and even more concerning problem with having pooping leopards roaming our suburbs is that in addition to enjoying the occasional monkey snack another favourite, and easier-to-catch, leopard food is dogs. Now that's something to chew on."

 

Yes, as anyone who has been to St Lucia will know, leopards roaming the streets at night are a constant hazard; domestic cats and dogs disappear regularly.

People are so busy looking over their shoulder for leopards, they don't really notice the absence of monkeys.

Tailpiece

SEX IS LIKE a misdemeanour. De more you miss it, de meaner you get.

Last word

Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.

Napoleon Bonaparte