The Idler, Friday, September 16, 2011

In the balance

THE GREAT psych-op against the Kiwis hangs in the balance. For weeks now we've been softening them up with derogatory e-mails, playing on their insecurity and near-paranoia at the faintest prospect of their failing yet again to win the Rugby World Cup, this time at home.

They're a bundle of nerves. They've developed a psychosis about the French, who have twice tripped them up, once in the semi-finals and once in the quarters. That's why our e-mails tend to start with a volley of French jeers: "Zut! Alors! Les All Blacks sont un groupe femmes delicates! Victoire dans le World Cup? Ha, ha, ha, tres drole!"

And then the killer punch, the statistical certainty spat out by a computer into which every bit of available data has been fed: the All Blacks won the BledisloeCup (between themselves and Australia); the Aussies won the Tri-Nations. The next bit of silverware has to go to the Boks – and that's the William Webb Ellis Trophy. This will have the Kiwis wetting their pants.

Except the Boks have to come to the party. Last weekend they didn't. I was so much reminded of club rugby in the lower leagues in days of yore when an old fellow named Uncle Dick used to give an earnest talk before the game: "If you want to win, you've got to score. To score you need possession. To have possession you need the ball."

It seems blindingly obvious, but I wish somebody had whispered it to the Boks before the Wales game.

And Fiji tomorrow. Let them establish their pattern of play and they'll run us ragged. We have to force our own pattern on the game. But do we have a pattern?

A good start would be to follow Uncle Dick's advice.

Phantom cats

CATS THAT glow green in the dark ... this is the latest scientific advance of our age. Scientists in Britain have bred these luminous cats by injecting their mothers' DNA with the gene of a fluorescent jellyfish.

One has feelings of disquiet. How close have we not come to the Academy of Laputa, in Jonathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels, where a scientist spent eight years researching the extraction of sunbeams from cucumbers so they could be placed in hermetically sealed vials and let out to warm the air during cold summers?

Next they'll develop a cat that smiles then disappears, leaving behind nothing but the smile. I understand they're working on it in Cheshire.

 

Space junk odds

 

INVESTMENT analyst Dr James Greener notes in his latest grumpy newsletter that a long defunct and derelict US satellite is falling back to earth.

"Nasa has stated that the chance of being hit by a piece of this space junk is extremely small. Nevertheless the quoted odds of 1 in 3 200 are either hopelessly wrong or worth a bet. Winning the lottery is 5 000 times less likely."

He advises a hard hat. But space junk hurtling at you? Even with a hard hat would you be still there to collect your winnings?

Maybe one should bet on it hitting somebody else. No, I didn't say Julius Malema.

 

Bone to pick

 

IAN GIBSON, poet laureate of Hillcrest, draws inspiration from Ogden Nash in lamenting the Springboks' lack-lustre performance against Wales.

 

 

I have a bone to pick with Snor,

Pitch up and tell me Peter,

Were our boys just over eager,

Or simply old and sore?

 

Snor, of course, is coach Peter de Villiers of the magnificent moustache. What Ogden Nash wrote was:

 

I have a bone to pick with fate,

Come here and tell me girlie,

Do you think my mind is maturing late

Or simply rotted early?

 

 

Tailpiece

AN AUSTRALIAN schoolteacher asks her class to raise their hands if they're Wallabies fans. All do so except one little girl.

Teacher: "Janie, why don't you raise your hand?"

Janie: "Because I'm not a Wallabies fan."

Teacher: "Then who are you a fan of?"

Janie: "The Springboks. My mum is a Springboks fan, and my dad is too."

Teacher: "You don't have to be just like your parents. What if your mum were a moron and your dad were a moron, what would you be then?"

Janie: "A Wallabies fan."

Last word

 

I may not have been very tall or very athletic, but the one thing I did have was the most effective backside in world rugby. - Jim Glennon

The Idler, Thursday, September 15, 2011

Crocodile tears

WHAT kind of ill luck and heartache can cause a man to abandon his crocodile? Staff at Warsaw Zoo found a four-foot croc dumped on their doorstep in a crate with a note: "My name is Gustav. I am a crocodile. My daddy loves me very much, but I need a new home."

However, the zoo are having none of it. They say they don't have enough room for Gustav and they're searching their CCTV footage to try to identify the man who dumped him and dump him back again.

It's so sad that, just as he enters his impressionable teenage years, an innocent foundling crocodile should be subjected to this kind of rejection and emotional turmoil.

Maybe the Polish courts will step in and find Gustav a foster home.

Deon du Plessis

I AM SADDENED to learn of the death of my old friend and colleague, Deon du Plessis. Deon was a giant of the South African newspaper world, both physically – a huge man – and metaphorically.

I worked with him on the old Argus Africa News Service, a highly professional outfit with a network across the continent and staffers based in Johannesburg, Salisbury (as it then was), Dar es Salaam, Nairobi and Accra. Our main focus in those days was the withdrawal of the Portuguese from Angola and Mozambique and the chaos that ensued. Also the resulting pressure on Ian Smith's Rhodesia and the collapse of UDI.

Deon was very much part of that scramble coverage. He went on to hold various executive positions in the old Argus company and its successor, Independent Newspapers, but he always hankered after launching a robust tabloid.

This he achieved when he broke away to launch The Sun, which is a huge success nationwide. Its content is not to everyone's taste but Deon's instinct was sound. There is a basic demand for a newspaper that caters to the tastes and interests of that vast category of people who have urbanised but not quite lost touch with their rural and traditional values. The Sun focuses on that market. The reports it publishes are vivid, frequently bizarre and often seemingly outrageous. And it sells.

A few years ago I hired a house painter. He arrived every day with a copy of The Sun under his arm. Then he would ask our domestic lady to translate the content into Zulu for him. That's what I call a committed reader – brand loyalty. He bought the paper for its content, even though he couldn't read (or for that matter speak) English.

Deon was larger than life. He often projected himself - I presume for his own private amusement – as some kind of clodhopping backvelder. Nothing could have been further from the truth. He was astute, finely attuned to every nuance of politics and of the newspaper world.

He was also delightful company, treating everything he did as an adventure, whether some journalistic sortie or one of the convivial lunches he so often presided over. He will be missed by all of us who worked with him.

 

Tangled telexes

THE DRAMA of life as a foreign correspondent. There was a time when I was on the desk of the Africa Service, in Johannesburg. Deon du Plessis was in Lourenzo Marques (as present-day Maputo was then called) in Mozambique. There was no such thing as e-mail. The communications technology of those days was the telex and the landline machine for photographs.

Things were popping in Mozambique. Deon desperately needed a landline machine. One was available from the Cape Argus. By telex I negotiated for this machine to be railed to LM. The Argus informed me by telex that it was on its way.

What I didn't know was that a manager on The Star had arranged for the Argus to rail him a crate of smoked snoek for a company function.

Yes, you've guessed. The Star manager got a landline machine. Deon got a crate of smoked snoek. Next thing a girl from head office was haring across to Komatipoort by car to hand over the landline machine at the border post.

I hope Deon enjoyed the smoked snoek.

Tailpiece

A TRUCK carrying copies of Roget's Thesaurus overturned on the highway. Onlookers were stunned, overwhelmed, astonished, bewildered and dumbfounded.

Last word

I have opinions of my own - strong opinions - but I don't always agree with them.

George Bush

 

 

The Idler, Wednesday, Septermber 14 2011

The dancing policeman

 

A BRITISH bobby has been caught on camera dancing with gusto in the street during the recent Notting Hill Carnival, in London. A colleague behind him enthusiastically beats time to the reggae with his arms.

 

Coming so soon after the rioting and looting elsewhere in London, it seems remarkable. Footage of the rhythmically nimble – though definitely middle-aged - cop and his colleague has now found its way onto YouTube and the response of viewers has been overwhelmingly positive, one declaring that the two should get pay rises.

 

"Hey, officer, you wanna come back to my place?"

 

"Er, not on duty, ma'am!"

 

Bar-room ammo

 

SOME information comes this way, which is passed on as ammo for bar-room discussions, bar-room quizzes and the game of Trivial Pursuits.

 

 

·         Why do men's clothes have buttons on the right while women's have them on the left? - When buttons were invented, they were expensive and worn primarily by the rich. Since most people are right-handed, it's easier to push buttons on the right through holes on the left. Because wealthy women were dressed by maids, dressmakers put the buttons on the maid's right. That's where they've remained.

·         Why do ships and aircraft use "mayday" as their call for help? - It comes from the French word m'aidez, meaning "help me'"—and, which is pronounced approximately as "mayday."

·         Why are zero scores in tennis and squash called "love"? - In France, where tennis became popular, round zero on the scoreboard looked like an egg and was called "l'oeuf" (egg). When tennis went to the US, Americans mispronounced it "love".

·         Why do Xs at the end of a letter signify kisses? - In the Middle Ages, when many people were unable to read or write, documents were often signed using an X. Kissing the X represented an oath to fulfil obligations specified in the document. The X and the kiss eventually became synonymous.

·         Why is shifting responsibility to someone else called "passing the buck"? - In card games it was once customary to pass an item, called a buck, from player to player to indicate whose turn it was to deal. If a player did not wish to deal, he would "pass the buck" to the next player.

·         Why do people clink their glasses before drinking a toast? – Long ago, to show a guest that his drink was not poisoned, it became customary for a small amount of it to be poured into the glass of the host. Both would drink simultaneously. When a guest trusted his host, he would only touch or clink the host's glass with his own.

·         Why is someone who is feeling great "on Cloud Nine"? - Types of cloud are numbered according to altitude, with nine the highest. Someone on Cloud Nine floats well above worldly cares.

·         In golf, where did "caddie" come from? - When Mary Queen of Scots went to France as a young girl, King Louis had the first course outside of Scotland built for her. To make sure she was properly guarded while she played, Louis detailed cadets from a military school. When Mary returned to Scotland, she took the practice with her. In French, the word cadet is pronounced "caday" and the Scots changed it to "caddie".

 

 

Essex Gals

THE ESSEX Girl has in so many ways come to personify the modern English beauty – brash, busty, leggy, usually blonde, togged out in the latest gear, lotsa fun and often in tow with footballers, rock stars and other celebs around the clubs and discos. Not one of these boring types who are reading philosophy somewhere.

Now they've produced an Essex Girl perfume. Towie (The Only Way Is Essex – named for the TV show) is to be marketed big this Christmas.

What fragrance captures the essence of an Essex Girl? That's still under wraps.

But I'll hazard a guess. A subtle hint of fish 'n chips with vinegar as overlay to a medley of disco sweat, lager, cigarette smoke and depth-charge shooters.

Go, Trace, go!

 

Tailpiece

THIS fellow goes into a doctor's surgery. He has baked beans in his hair, fried egg down the front of his shirt and two sausages sticking out of his front pocket.

Doctor: "What's the problem?"

Patient: "I'm not eating properly."

Last word

In Mexico we have a word for sushi: Bait.

Jose Simon

 

The Idler, Wednesday, September 14, 2011

The dancing policeman

 

A BRITISH bobby has been caught on camera dancing with gusto in the street during the recent Notting Hill Carnival, in London. A colleague behind him enthusiastically beats time to the reggae with his arms.

 

Coming so soon after the rioting and looting elsewhere in London, it seems remarkable. Footage of the rhythmically nimble – though definitely middle-aged - cop and his colleague has now found its way onto YouTube and the response of viewers has been overwhelmingly positive, one declaring that the two should get pay rises.

 

"Hey, officer, you wanna come back to my place?"

 

"Er, not on duty, ma'am!"

 

Bar-room ammo

 

SOME information comes this way, which is passed on as ammo for bar-room discussions, bar-room quizzes and the game of Trivial Pursuits.

 

 

·         Why do men's clothes have buttons on the right while women's have them on the left? - When buttons were invented, they were expensive and worn primarily by the rich. Since most people are right-handed, it's easier to push buttons on the right through holes on the left. Because wealthy women were dressed by maids, dressmakers put the buttons on the maid's right. That's where they've remained.

·         Why do ships and aircraft use "mayday" as their call for help? - It comes from the French word m'aidez, meaning "help me'"—and, which is pronounced approximately as "mayday."

·         Why are zero scores in tennis and squash called "love"? - In France, where tennis became popular, round zero on the scoreboard looked like an egg and was called "l'oeuf" (egg). When tennis went to the US, Americans mispronounced it "love".

·         Why do Xs at the end of a letter signify kisses? - In the Middle Ages, when many people were unable to read or write, documents were often signed using an X. Kissing the X represented an oath to fulfil obligations specified in the document. The X and the kiss eventually became synonymous.

·         Why is shifting responsibility to someone else called "passing the buck"? - In card games it was once customary to pass an item, called a buck, from player to player to indicate whose turn it was to deal. If a player did not wish to deal, he would "pass the buck" to the next player.

·         Why do people clink their glasses before drinking a toast? – Long ago, to show a guest that his drink was not poisoned, it became customary for a small amount of it to be poured into the glass of the host. Both would drink simultaneously. When a guest trusted his host, he would only touch or clink the host's glass with his own.

·         Why is someone who is feeling great "on Cloud Nine"? - Types of cloud are numbered according to altitude, with nine the highest. Someone on Cloud Nine floats well above worldly cares.

·         In golf, where did "caddie" come from? - When Mary Queen of Scots went to France as a young girl, King Louis had the first course outside of Scotland built for her. To make sure she was properly guarded while she played, Louis detailed cadets from a military school. When Mary returned to Scotland, she took the practice with her. In French, the word cadet is pronounced "caday" and the Scots changed it to "caddie".

 

 

Essex Gals

THE ESSEX Girl has in so many ways come to personify the modern English beauty – brash, busty, leggy, usually blonde, togged out in the latest gear, lotsa fun and often in tow with footballers, rock stars and other celebs around the clubs and discos. Not one of these boring types who are reading philosophy somewhere.

Now they've produced an Essex Girl perfume. Towie (The Only Way Is Essex – named for the TV show) is to be marketed big this Christmas.

What fragrance captures the essence of an Essex Girl? That's still under wraps.

But I'll hazard a guess. A subtle hint of fish 'n chips with vinegar as overlay to a medley of disco sweat, lager, cigarette smoke and depth-charge shooters.

Go, Trace, go!

 

Tailpiece

THIS fellow goes into a doctor's surgery. He has baked beans in his hair, fried egg down the front of his shirt and two sausages sticking out of his front pocket.

Doctor: "What's the problem?"

Patient: "I'm not eating properly."

Last word

In Mexico we have a word for sushi: Bait.

Jose Simon

 

The Idler, Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Rugby spectacular

 

THE OPENING ceremony of the Rugby World Cup in Auckland was absolutely superb – lasers, holographs, illusion, music and sound.

 

The tattooed buttocks of the Maori warriors were an inspiration and a challenge to the body artwork of Florida Road on a Friday night. The simulation of erupting volcanoes was a simply awesome manipulation of light beams.

 

The Boks and their management need to be on the alert. The All Blacks clearly are now possessed of the technology to win a match by illusion, ghosting holographs all over the place, putting our defences at sixes and sevens. Who can tackle a holograph?

 

I feel a humdinger is coming up.

 

Good try

 

MEANWHILE, the trophy they play for is, of course, the William Webb Ellis. It was Webb Ellis who, all those years ago at Rugby School, picked up the ball and ran with it, starting the game of rugby union.

 

Reader Valerie Johnson suggests that's how the word "try" came about. Webb Ellis dived into the goalmouth and as he lay there panting, clutching the ball to his chest, became aware of his headmaster staring at him.

"Is it a goal, Sir?".

"No, but it was a bloody good try!"

It's a good yarn but what in fact happened in the early days of rugby was that no points were awarded for crossing the opponent's goal-line. It merely gave you the right to "try" for points with a goal-kick – what we today call a conversion.

The word was not a corruption of "tri" or "trois" (as I'd once believed), coming from the three points a try used to be worth.

Yet in Afrikaans they still call it a "drie", in spite of its being worth five points today. Old traditions die hard – dis 'n blerrie goeie drie!

 

Reader's query (1)

 

READER Linda Vandeverre notes an advertisement in this newspaper which invites "interesting parties" to apply to rent a storage yard in Greyville.

 

"I wonder how interesting you have to be to rent a storage yard in Greyville?"

 

The answer, Linda, is that if you arrive in a clown's outfit riding a pogo stick, playing a mouth organ and trailing a yellow balloon, you've as good as got the lease signed.

 

That's if you arrive first. Greyville abounds in such interesting parties.

 

 

Reader's query (2)

 

READER Colin Plen wonders who checks our comics section. He says the other day Hagar the Horrible and Clancy had virtually the same joke.

 

"In both cases the character says he did not know what happiness was before becoming a farmer/getting married and by then it was too late."

 

Colin, that's double value. A good joke is worth repeating in a different guise. It's also what they call synchronicity, a coincidence sanctioned by the Cosmos. Feel privileged!

 

Reader's query (3)

 

AND FINALLY, Jim Spencer of Margate says last week's bit about Vincent van Gogh's family tree was designed to amuse only Americans, who pronounce the name "Van Go".

 

"Most of us in South Africa pronounce Van Gogh with a little 'gh' sound at the end - rather like preparing to clear the throat of some excess phlegm.

 

"Some Sassenachs pronounce it 'goff', but most people give it the 'ch' sound at the end of 'loch'. All agree that it's Nough Gough for Van Go."

 

Jim has a valid point but I feel we must not be parochial. The Mercury has an online E-edition which is read daily by Barack Obama and millions of his fellow-Americans.

 

Gogh man gogh!

 

 

Tailpiece

A WALLABY, an All Black, a spectacular blonde and an older woman are sharing a compartment on a train. The train enters a dark tunnel, and suddenly there is an unmistakable "slap!" When they leave the tunnel, the Wallaby has a big red slap mark on his cheek.

The blonde thinks: "That horrible Wallaby tried to touch me. By mistake he put his hand on the other lady, who slapped his face."

The older woman thinks: "That dirty Wallaby laid his hands on the blonde and she smacked him."

The Wallaby thinks: "That bloody All Black put his hand on the blonde and by mistake she slapped me."

The All Black thinks: "I hope there's another tunnel soon so I can smack that stupid Wallaby again."

 

 

 

Last word

 

I prefer rugby to soccer. I enjoy the violence in rugby, except when they start biting each other's ears off. - Elizabeth Taylor