The Idler, Thursday, February 18, 2010

Chequer count bee rung

THE SPELLCHECK accessory we have installed in our PCs is the ultimate failsafe device, guaranteeing 100 percent correct spelling. Or is it?

Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
Its rare lea ever wrong.

Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.

Billions and trillions

 

ON THE question of billions and trillions, as raised a couple of days ago, reader John MacDonald wants to know what happened to the British billion (which we also used in South Africa).

 

The billion he learned about at school was a million times a million. Now everyone seems to have accepted the inferior American version, he says, which is a thousand million.

 

I think it's probably got something to do with the fact that when John was at school a billion was something almost abstract, up there in the stratosphere, that nobody would ever have to actually deal with.

 

But, with the devaluation of currencies everywhere, millions came into vogue – but the British billion was still too big a bundle to put them in, so the smaller American version was chosen. What used to be a billion became known as a trillion.

I seem to recall a brief exchange in parliament many years ago when somebody in the opposition benches objected that while the world was working with American billions, our government continued to use the archaic British billion.

 

But that has certainly changed since. And in Zimbabwe they're not just using American billions, they're using American dollars as their currency. How's that for wicked Yankee imperialism?

 

I'm sure Britain has also yielded to the American billion. When Gordon Brown talks of a billion pounds here and so many billion there, even he can't be talking millions of millions. There'd be a lynch mob out.

 

Statistics

 

STATISTICIANS have a way of pulling together all kinds of information to yield results of a significance that might otherwise escape us. The years 1981 and 2005, for instance, have great interest and symmetrey.

 

Interesting year 1981:

 

* Prince Charles got married.

* Liverpool were crowned soccer champions of Europe.

* Australia lost the Ashes.

* The Pope died.

 

Interesting year 2005:

 

* Prince Charles got married.

* Liverpool were crowned soccer champions of Europe.

* Australia lost the Ashes.

* The Pope died.

 

Statistical lesson to be learned: The next time Charles gets married, it's time for a spread bet on Liverpool, the Ashes and the papacy.

SOME batty wordplay:

 

·        Those who jump off a bridge in Paris are in Seine.

 

·        A man's home is his castle, in a manor of speaking.

 

·        Dijon vu – the same mustard as before.

·        Practise safe eating – always use condiments.

·        Shotgun wedding – A case of wife or death.

·        A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy.

·        A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

·        Dancing cheek-to-cheek is really a form of floor play.

 

 

Traffic lines

 

IAN GIBSON, poet laureate of Hillcrest, is so impressed by the performance of Rob Byrne, who reports SABC radio about traffic conditions, that he has strung together a few lines. Byrne, he says, seems to know more about what is happening on our roads than the traffic authorities themselves.

Our traffic reporter called Byrne,

Is someone from whom we all learn;

He's efficient and clear

About roads far and near;

As Minister of Transport he'd be a star turn.

 

Tailpiece

A WOMAN in an art gallery is puzzled by two seemingly identical still life paintings showing a table laid for lunch with a glass of wine, a basket of breadrolls and a plate of sliced ham. One is priced at R750 the other at R1 000.

"Why the difference?" she asks the gallery owner.

"In the expensive one you get more ham."

Last word

England and America are two countries separated by a common language.

George Bernard Shaw

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

The Idler, Wednesday, February 17

Scientific breakthrough

 

THE NUCLEAR Physics Department at Stellenbosch has made a stunning breakthrough. It has discovered the heaviest element yet known to science. The new element, Governmentium (Gv), has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.

These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons. Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert; however, it can be detected because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact. A tiny amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that would normally take less than a second, to take from four days to four years to complete.

Governmentium has a normal half-life of two to six years. It does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganisation in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganisation will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes. This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical concentration.
This hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical morass.

When catalysed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium, an element that absorbs just as much energy as Governmentium since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.

Now we know why nowt 'appens.

 

Support for Zuma

 

JACOB Zuma gets support from an unexpected quarter in the bit of bother he is having over wives, girlfriends and progency. Taki, controversial writer of the High Life column in the British magazine, The Spectator (and mentioned yesterday in an entirely different context), comes out four-square in support of JZ.

 

Taki is a hilarious writer who specialises in saying very rude things about people like Tony Blair and Bill and Hillary Clinton. Here is what he has to say about Jacob Zuma.

 

"I often wonder why people are shocked, shocked – Captain Renault-like – to discover that modern football is a malodorous cesspit teeming with leeches and crooks, or that Tony Blair is a congenital liar not worthy of any position except that of orderly in a prison gym. The latest shock is the discovery that Jacob Zuma, the President of South Africa, has fathered his 20^th child. I don't like football players, owners of football teams and Tony Blair, but I do like Jacob Zuma, a polygamous roly-poly Zulu who preaches safe sex by advising those indulging to take a shower once they've finished the business. Zuma is a proud Zulu traditionalist who doesn't much believe in white man's science, and who has been married a total of five times, has had children by seven women, and has three wives at present. His latest child's mother is not one of his wives, which is fine according to Zulu custom, especially as Zuma has provided "inhlawulo", the customary payment by a Zulu man after he fathers a child out of wedlock.

 

"Actually, I envy Zuma and I would love to provide inhlawulo to not a small number of ladies, starting with the deputy editor of The Spectator the second she gives me the green light. Alas, all I get is the red signal despite the fact that my wallet is bulging with prospective inhlawulo pounds and dollars. (No one accepts euros any more, especially not for inhlawulo purposes). Mind you, we are all Zulus now. Didn't the ghastly John Terry pay inhlawulo to that cute little French madamoiselle?"

 

And so he goes on, at some length. Taki is variously described as "outrageous". "fascist" and a number of other things – but he's undeniably funny. The design to seduce his own deputy editor is vintage Taki.

 

 

Free speech

 

SOME years ago I was at a freedom of expression conference in France. Some delegates noted the anomaly of free speech allowing for all kinds of objectionable writing. An American actually mentioned Taki, who had been saying some robust things about Hillary Clinton.

 

I argued for Taki on the grounds that he's hilariously funny, whether you agree with him or not.

 

I attracted no applause.

 

Tailpiece

She asked a famous artist if he would paint her in the nude. He said that would be fine but he'd have to keep his socks on, otherwise he'd have nowhere to put his brushes.

 

Last word

 

For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.

Virginia Woolf

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

The Idler, Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Intriguing turn

THE QUESTION of the literary legacy of JD Salinger has taken an intriguing turn. The writer of the 1950s classic, The Catcher in the Rye, died recently, aged 91, after spending decades as a recluse in New Hampshire. The speculation is that he must have been working much of that time on another blockbuster or two.

Now it turns out he has been in correspondence, over the years, with Taki, an outrageously (and hilariously) right-wing columnist with the British magazine, The Spectator. It also seems Salinger's later literary output will somehow be revealed through Taki and the Spectator.

In his latest column, Taki quotes from Salinger's letters, the content pretty lurid. He also hints that he has something in his possession that cannot be revealed at this stage.

"I cannot go into details for legal reasons, but JD Salinger and I never spoke on the telephone, we only corresponded. He loathed modern Britain almost as much as I do, and particularly hated what he called phonies like Hitchens, Amis and, surprisingly, VS Naipaul. In fact, he once hinted I should beat Naipaul up …"

Extraordinary stuff. The Speccie is on to a hot story.

Relativity

ALBERT Einstein arrives at a party and introduces himself to the first person he sees and asks: "What's your IQ?" The man answers: "241." "That's wonderful!," says Einstein. "We'll talk about the grand unification theory and the mysteries of the universe. We have much to discuss!"

Next he introduces himself to a woman and asks:"What's your IQ?" She replies: "144." "That's great!," says Einstein. "We can discuss politics and current affairs. We have much to discuss!"

Einstein goes to another man and asks: "What's your IQ?" He answers: "16." Einstein responds: "Hoe gaan dit met die Bulle?"

Glib billions

AN ANGRY message is doing the rounds in Britain, prompted by the glib way in which the word "billion" trips off the tongues of political figures, as if it meant nothing at all. The context is the UK but it has a universal relevance.

 

The next time you hear a politician use the word "billion" in a casual manner, think about whether you want the politicians  spending  your tax money. A billion is a difficult number to  comprehend, but  an advertising agency did a good job of  putting that figure into some perspective.   · A  billion seconds ago it was 1959. · A billion minutes ago Jesus was alive. · A billion hours ago our ancestors were  living in the stone age. ·  A billion days ago no-one walked on the earth on two feet. ·  A billion  pounds ago was only 13 hours and 12 minutes,  at the rate our government is spending it. Capital gains tax; car tax; corporation  tax; council tax; excise duty; import duty; income tax; fishing licence; fuel tax; hunting licence; inheritance tax; marriage  licence;  national insurance contributions; planning permission  tax; Road Fund licences; service charges; social security tax; stamp  duty; TV licence; Value Added Tax; vehicle licence registration; vehicle sales tax. Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago ... and our nation was one of the most prosperous in the world. We had absolutely no national debt. We had the largest middle class in the world. And  Mum stayed home to raise the kids. What  happened? Can you spell p-o-l-i-t-i-c-i-c-i-a-n-s?

Not so neat

 

BILLIONS and trillions. ISMAIL Kathrada is a little sceptical of the "neat" solution to America's economic woes floated in this column the other day – paying the 40 million 50-year-olds in the workforce a million dollars each to retire, on condition they buy a car and a house.

 

"I don't have enough digits on my calculator," he says, "and I'm hopeless at maths. But doesn't it work out to 40 trillion dollars? And then you have 40 million people in posts that they have no experience in and 40 million extra cars on already congested roads.

 

 

"Forty million people would re-mortgage their homes and use the money for holidays and you will have these 40 million people on the dole

 

"It's not so neat."

 

I'm afraid it's beyond me. But a couple of chartered accountants were talking about it the other night and they say 40 trillion dollars is nothing in the American scheme of things.

Tailpiece

WHY DID Cleopatra think she didn't need a psychologist? Because she was the Queen of Denial.

Last word

Tact is the ability to describe others as they see themselves.

Abraham Lincoln

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

The Idler, Monday, February 15, 2010

You ain't seen nothin'

DISTURBING news for those who disapprove of presidential polygamy – a well-placed source tells me Jacob Zuma has barely started out on the path of matrimony.

Apparently there is an alternative interpretation at Nkandla of that line in the marriage service: "Four better, four worse, four richer, four poorer …"

Four times four is 16. That means 16 wives are required. Which means the president still has 13 to go – twelve-and-a-half if you take into account the current fiancée.

 

Stand by, Guinness Book of World Records! This one will run and run!

 

 

JZ has arrived

 

MEANWHILE, the president has made it into the Glenda Slagg column of Britain's satirical Private Eye magazine. This is a send-up of the shrill hackettes of Fleet Street, where Glenda contradicts herself every other paragraph, with a profusion of exclamation marks and question marks, then ends up naming her favourite hunks.

 

"Here they are – Glenda's Valentine's Day Valentinos?!?!

 

·         Keith Schilling!?!! Mr Superinjunction, they call him!!?! You can come round and gag me with your big writ anytime!?!!

·         Mr Justice Tugendhat. Hats off to Britain's sexiest judge!?!! Fancy invading my privacy, Your Lordship – cos I'm gagging for it?! Geddit?!?

·         President Jacob Zuma!?! Crazy name, crazy wives!?!!

 

"Byeee!"

 

When you appear in the Glenda Slagg column, you've arrived.

 

 

 

The muse awakens

 

LAST week we discussed the way Americans use the correct Hindi version of the word "pajama" instead of "pyjama", the way we have it. This awakens the muse in reader Andrew Dale:

 

President Barack Obama

Goes to bed in a flannel pajama.

His wife is more crude,

She sleeps in the nude.

Footnote: Americans, I do suspect,

In this regard are more correct

Than you or I,

With "a" not "y".

 

That's very good. I'm not sure where he gets the information about Michelle, but who am I to contradict him?

 

Truthful James

 

The same Andrew Dale recalls my writing recently about a "Truthful James" – whose real name I could not remember at the time - who for many years contributed a weekly poem of great wit to one of our sister newspapers. He wonders whether some clue to the author is provided by the poems of Francis Bret Harte, who often used that name. In The Society upon the Stanislaus, he wrote:

 

I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;

I am not up to small deceit, or any sinful games.

 

Bang on! Those are the very lines on which Truthful James based his nom de plume. However, they can't refer to Cape Town's Table Mountain (or Maritzburg's, for that matter). There must also be a Table Mountain in California, which is where Francis Bret Harte lived and wrote in the 19^th century.

 

Meanwhile, I've at last got the name of our own Truthful James. He was Herbert Lanham, a delightful retired policeman of the British colonial service, who was involved in the investigations that led to the sensational "White Mischief" murder trial in Kenya in the 1950s.

 

He left Durban many years ago to live with his daughter in the Eastern Cape. Somebody somewhere must have possession of a wonderful collection of his work, all of it very witty and superbly crafted; some of it very saucy and never published.

 

Tailpiece

THIS fellow spots a sign: "Talking dog for sale". He is taken round the back to meet the dog.

"Do you really talk?"

"Yep," says the dog. "I discovered this gift when I was young. I got in touch with the secret service and in no time they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders because nobody would think a dog could be eavesdropping. I was one of their most valuable spies. The jetting around really tired me out though so I switched to a job at the airport, listening in on drug dealers and so on. I got a load of medals."

"How much for this dog?" the fellow asks the owner.

"Fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks! Why so cheap?"

"I gotta tell ya. He's a big liar. He didn't do half that stuff."

Last word

There are lots of ways of being miserable, but there's only one way of being comfortable, and that is to stop running round after happiness. If you make up your mind not to be happy there's no reason why you shouldn't have a fairly good time.

Edith Wharton

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

Captain Cook, Friday, February 12, 2010

AT LAST our rugby season opens tomorrow night – that's if the High Court allows the match to go ahead. Anthing can happen in this dispute over Willem Alberts and Louis Ludik. Will there be a scrumdown in court today? Will the presiding judge be equipped with a whistle? We enter new territory.

Mind you, I am not dismayed by this intrusion of the law into rugby. The game has lacked rigour for some time in the interpretation and enforcement of its own laws. Watching various overseas matches on the gogglebox last weekend – one involving our Bok seven-a-side-team in New Zealand – I saw several instances of the lunacy of this new law compelling the tackler to roll away.

That's all very well. But the laws also state that the tackled player has to release the ball when held in the tackle. If the tackler rolls away, the tackled player is no longer held in the tackle, so up he gets and sprints on like a long dog. It's a damn-fool thing and, in the absence of sensible implementation by referees, it requires High Court intervention.

I say a full bench of the High Court should be in attendance at every Super-14, Tri-Nations and Currie Cup fixture to rule on these matters. While they're about it, they can rule also on the marginal forward passes the so-called touch judges seem unable to pick up, plus the chasing from a marginally off-side position that happens with virtually every up-and-under kick. Let's not even talk of the crooked put-in to the scrum, which is hypocritically ignored.

Of course, each side would have to engage a legal team to lodge urgent applications, and this could mean some delay as m'learned friends argue the point, matches probably ending well after midnight. But life is serious these days, big money is involved, the time of carefree amateurism is past.

"It is this side's contention, M'lud, that my client's flinging of his opponent out of play and into the advertising boards did not constitute foul play, it was merely his attempt to comply with two contradictory laws – to roll away from the tackle, at the same time holding the player in the tackle …"

Meanwhile, the Chiefs tomorrow night. Er, the Chiefs? Who are they again? Hold him down, you Zulu chief, chief chief! No, not that chief. One tends to forget, now that the Ponytails have removed the geographic content from team names.

 

Of course, it's the Waikato Chiefs. Waikato – a famous name in rugby, the Mooloomen from Hamilton, North Island, New Zealand. They're the ones who beat the Boks 14-10 in their opening match of the tour of New Zealand in '56, presaging a series defeat in the internationals.

 

Springbok lock Salty du Randt used to tell the somewhat disreputable story of his encounter in that match with Peter Jones, the gigantic and tough All Black forward who also played for Waikato.

 

When Jones went up for the ball in a line-out, Salty punched him in the guts as hard as he could. It was like hitting a sack of concrete. It had no effect on Jones – he kept going up, caught the ball, came down, turned in the classic crouch, then said over his shoulder in his Kiwi twang: "By Jove Salty, this is going to be a wonderful game."

 

Why the marketing gurus want to bury all this history is a mystery. See you in the Duikers'! And later in the Filler also if the lads pull a rabbit out of the hat. Crème de menthe all round! Frappe!

 

The Idler, Friday, February 12, 2010

Tanjooberrymutts

 

AS A SERVICE to readers who might be making a business trip to Hong Kong or Singapore – or perhaps going there on holiday – this quick introduction to the local English dialect of those parts should prove useful.

 

A former colleague, now working in Hong Kong, says that by the time you get to the end of this crash introduction, you should understand the meaning of the expression: "Tanjooberrymutts".

 

The setting is a five-star hotel. The dialogue is by internal telephone.

 

Room Service: "Morrin. Roon sirbees."

Guest: "Sorry, I thought I dialled room-service."

Room Service: "Rye. Roon sirbees ... morrin! Joowish to oddor sunteen?"

Guest: "Uh ... Yes, I'd like to order bacon and eggs."

Room Service: "Ow ulai den?"

Guest: "What?"

Room Service: "Ow ulai den? ... Pryed, boyud, pochd?"

Guest: "Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry ... scrambled, please."

Room Service: "Ow ulai dee bayken? Creepse?"

Guest: "Crisp will be fine."

Room Service: "Hokay. An sahn toes?"

Guest: "What?"

Room Service: "An toes. Ulai sahn toes?"

Guest: "I ... don't think so."

Room Service: "No? Udo wan sahn toes?"

Guest: "I feel really bad about this, but I don't know what 'udo wan sahn toes' means."

Room Service: "Toes! Toes! Why Uoo don wan toes? Ow bow Anglishmoppin we botter?"

Guest: "Oh, English muffin! I've got it! You were saying 'toast' ... Fine ... Yes, an English muffin will be fine."

Room Service: "We botter?"

Guest: "No, just put the botter on the side."

Room Service: "Wad?"

Guest: "I mean butter ... Just put the butter on the side."

Room Service: "Copy?"

Guest: "Excuse me?"

Room Service: "Copy ... tea ... meel?

"Guest: "Yes. Coffee, please ... And that's everything."

Room Service: "One minnie. Scramah egg, creepse bayken, Anglish moppin, we botter on sigh and copy ... Rye?"

Guest: "Whatever you say."

Room Service: "Tanjooberrymutts."

Guest: "You're welcome."

 

 

 

Familiar ring

 

AN 18-YEAR-OLD girl falls pregnant. Her distraught mother demands: "Who is the pig that did this to you?"

The girl picks up the phone. Half an hour later a Ferrari stops in front of their house; a mature and distinguished man with grey hair and impeccably dressed in an Armani suit steps out and enters the house.

He sits in the living room with the father, mother and the girl and says: "Good morning, your daughter has informed me of the problem. I can't marry her because of my personal family situation but I'll take charge.

"I will pay all costs and provide for your daughter for the rest of her life. Additionally, if a girl is born I will bequeath her two retail stores, a townhouse, a beachfront villa and a R12 million bank account. If a boy is born, my legacy will be a couple of factories and a R14 million bank account. If twins, they will receive a factory and R12 million.

"However, if there is a miscarriage I'm not really sure what to do. What do you suggest?"

The father places a hand firmly on the man's shoulder and says: "Then you try again, Boet!"

 

It has a familiar ring but has no relevance to our presidency.

 

Whoops (again)!

 

MEA CULPA! Reader David Pagan points out that I was wrong in saying Doris Day starred with Rock Hudson in The Pajama Game. It was John Raitt.

 

Worse, Rodney Kenyon also makes the point and says this is the second time I've made the same mistake. He's getting worried about my fixation with Rock Hudson.

 

David says he recently saw The Pajama Game again – "its awfulness is etched on my brain".

 

"Rock Hudson appeared with Doris Day in a series of risque (for the time) comedies, the best known of which was Pillow Talk. There was a joke around at the time that these were the movies in which Doris Day became a virgin."

 

Yes, I was thinking of Pillow Talk. Pillows, pyjamas, what the heck!

 

David says that when Rock Hudson went into decline with Aids, Doris Day gave him every support. The films might have been awful but she was a good woman.

 

 

Tailpiece

Patient: "I'm under a lot of stress. I keep losing my temper with people and insulting them. You gotta help me."

Psychologist: "Tell me about it."

Patient: "I just did, you stupid bastard!"

Last word

An alcoholic is someone you don't like who drinks as much as you do.

Dylan Thomas

GRAHAM LINSCOTT