IThe dler, December 11, 2014

We wuz robbed!

VIEWERS are furious with the Discovery TV channel. It advertised that it would 

show US naturalist Paul Rosolie being eaten alive by an anaconda in the 

Amazon jungle.

But when push came to shove and the huge snake started to swallow him, he 

thought better of this attempt to get inside a snake and called for help.

He was wearing a special suit to protect him from the 6m snake's digestive 

juices, but he found the pain of being swallowed just too much, and his support 

team wrestled him away from the anaconda's jaws. Presumably they would have 

cut the snake open to rescue him if he had been swallowed.

It's caused the dickens of a row. Some viewers are protesting that they didn't get 

their money's worth, they feel cheated. Discovery said a guy would be eaten alive 

and it didn't happen.

Animal rights groups are protesting about the very idea of the exercise and the 

negative stereotyping of snakes. Methinks they have a point. There's surely 

something very distasteful about setting up a show like this.

It's like filming a cougar devouring a fellow in the Street Shelter for the Over-

Forties, then flighting it on TV. Yes, it happens. It's life and nature in the raw. But 

you don't use it as entertainment.

Survival

SOMEHOW they survive in Zimbabwe. A message comes this way 

from a fellow in Harare who felt he needed a break from Zanu-PF, 

Joyce Mujuru, Grace Mugabe PhD and all the rest of it.

He had only $20 (R220) in his pocket, but what the heck! He went 

to the plush Meikles Hotel and settled down in the La Fontaine 

restaurant to a seven-course dinner..

He kicked off with an exquisite bottle of Moet & Chandon French 

Champagne, 1985. The fillet mignons were simply delightful, he 

says, when accompanied by a 1975 South African Shiraz.

At the end of the evening his bill arrived - $465 – at which he gave 

them the sad news that he had no money to pay.

They called the cops and as he was being driven to the police 

station to be locked up he offered the constable $10, which he 

accepted with alacrity and set him free.

Yes, somehow they survive in Zimbabwe.

The post

"THE postman is waiting at the gate to tramp through the snow to 

Rochester and is unlawfully drinking a glass of gin while I write this 

..." 

So wrote Charles Dickens around Christmas 1869 from his home 

Gad's Hill, in Higham, Kent. He was writing to his friend, Charles 

Kent.

The letter was found recently in Dickens's house by a tour guide. 

The novelist was a prolific letter writer also. He had his own 

postbox and kept the postman pretty busy. The postal service was 

in its infancy in those days.

Illicit gin or otherwise, at least the mail got through. What would 

Dickens have made of our totally imploded postal service in South 

Africa?

Country

OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties: "It's good 

to play country music backwards. You sober up, your wife comes 

back and your dog un-dies."

Tailpiece

VAN der Merwe boards a plane at Heathrow airport, London, for 

New York. He finds himself sitting beside a stunningly beautiful 

woman.

"Hello", he blurts. "Business trip or vacation?"

She turns, smiles enchantingly and says: "Business. I'm going to 

the Nymphomaniac Convention in the US."

Van swallows hard. "What's your business role at this convention?"

"Lecturer. I use my experience to debunk some of the popular 

myths about sexuality."

"Really? What myths are those?"

"Well, like male endowment. Actually, it's the Native American 

Indians who are leaders in that field. Very few people know it. 

Another popular myth is that Frenchmen are the best lovers, when 

actually i'ts men of Greek descent.

"We've also found that the best all-rounders, the best potential 

lovers in all categories, are the Irish."

She suddenly blushes. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't be discussing 

this with you, I don't even know your name."

"Tonto," says Van. "Tonto Papadopoulos, but my girlfriends call 

me Paddy."

Last word

Politics is not the art of the possible. It consists in choosing between the 

disastrous and the unpalatable. 

John Kenneth Galbraith

The Idler, December 10, 2014

IA colourful brigand

ONE of this province's more colourful brigands died in Maritzburg at the weekend. Gordon "Ginger" Dick was 

a man of unfeigned charm, manners and humour who also brought enlivenment and entertainment to any 

gathering.

Early one morning at Crossways Hotel, just outside Maritzburg, a group of fellows were lounging around a little 

disconsolately over breakfast in the bar. They were supposed to be on a shooting expedition against wild pig 

at Hilton College, but the mist had closed in. You couldn't see the end of the shotgun barrel.

So Ginger decided to cheer them all up. He took somebody's shotgun and gave the dartboard both barrels. 

Middle for diddle, as the darts folk say. Whammo! The noise in that confined space was simply frightful, the 

ears were ringing.

Did Ginger get into trouble? Not at all. He was manager of the Crossways Hotel.

Ginger was a stalwart of Collegians Club, the sergeants' mess at the Natal Carbineers and Twiggy's Pie Cart, 

the late-night diner. He had the gift of the gab and would have made a great court lawyer

One night I was with him in his car as we drove from Collegians to the Country Club, the other side of town. 

We were being followed by a fellow named "Mango" who had a hot Ford Zephyr. Mango seemed keen to 

overtake, and Ginger kept playfully edging out into the road to stop him.

Then he pulled up at a red light. The zephyr came screeching in beside him. Ginger flicked a cigarette stompie 

at Mango through the open window. It hit the steering wheel, causing a shower of sparks. The driver jumped 

out. It wasn't Mango at all. In fact he was in uniform. This was an NPA cop. (They also drove Zephyrs in those 

days.) He was spitting mad.

A tricky situation, to be sure. But Ginger turned on the charm and humour. Eventually the cop was laughing 

too. Ginger got a warning ticket. He should have been a courtroom lawyer but never was.

The funeral notice said: "A life well lived." They can say that again. RIP Ginger.

Top drawer

THE cream of Afrikanerdom met outside Stellenbosch recently to discuss the land question and make pretty 

generous suggestions that would settle it once and for all, finish en klaar, as reported in this newspaper.

Afrikaner agriculturists, businessmen, bankers and academics were there. The list of delegates could almost 

have been the Broederbond in the old days.

By nefarious means I have in my possession a summary of what was discussed. It makes fascinating reading.

One delegate – a senior man in organised agriculture – spoke of involving labour in the plans and wider 

consultation. He suggested an Agriculture Conference.

He also told delegates he was leading preparations for the Rugby World Cup tour to England in 2015. The 

cost would be about R120 000 a person participating. It promised to be a top tour with tickets for the important 

matches. The travel agency was making further arrangements.

"Just watch out in case you are paired off with a Blue Bull. Apply in time for better company." 

Time lapse

READER Hans Muldal, of Ixopo (the same one who supplied yesterday's picture of the new Virginia Airport 

in Fiji), wants to know what's so confoundedly funny about the famous Punch cartoon that has two hippos 

standing in a swamp, one saying: Ï keep thinking it's Thursday."

"Most of my friends think it's hilarious but I have no idea why they think it's funny."

Hans, it's difficult to dissect humour. Perhaps it's the absurdity. If you're a hippo standing in a swamp at St 

Lucia or somewhere, what can make Thursday different to any other day?

Perhaps it's partly a play on our contemporary society where we're governed by calendars, diaries, 

programmes and so forth. The slightest disruption – like a long weekend – throws everything out. People do 

say things like: "I keep thinking it's Thursday".

Difficult to dissect but it is very funny and a classic.

Tailpiece

"WHAT do you think our husbands talk about down at the pub?"

"Probably the same as we talk about."

"The dirty, sex-obsessed rotters!"

Last word

Last night I dreamed I ate a ten-pound marshmallow, and when I woke up 

the pillow was gone. 

Tommy Cooper

The Idler, Friday, December 5, 2014

Great freeloading tradition

IN VARSITY days, there was a fellow who used to put on a suit every Saturday 

and go to church. There he'd hook up with whatever wedding was on, then with 

the reception afterwards.

There he'd get a bit plastered, have some great eats and meet some lovely girls.

It was a great wheeze. Nobody ever challenged him, presuming he was 

connected to the other family.

Now a law student in Spain has been continuing the great tradition. Francisco 

Nicolas Gomez Iglesias has been gatecrashing government and diplomatic 

functions.

He aims high. He even managed to gatecrash the coronation ceremony of King 

Felipe VI, where he was photographed shaking the monarch's hand.

But he was rumbled recently when he tried to get into a diplomatic party at the US 

embassy in Madrid, and was blocked (Drat these pesky Yanks). The Spanish police 

investigated further and a search of his digs turned up fake government vehicle 

permits, a police siren and official Civil Guard and National Police number plates.

It seems he has successfully passed himself off at various times as a senior 

government official, a secret service agent and a special advisor to the deputy prime 

minister. He's consumed a lot of caviar.

That's not bad for a 20-year-old student. Francisco now faces charges of fraud,, 

forgery and impersonation. But the Spanish public have rallied to his support. The 

newspapers have dubbed him "Little Nicolas", after a fictional naughty schoolboy, 

and presumably photoshopped pictures are appearing on the internet of him in the 

company of Pope Francis and Darth Vader.

Maybe King Felipe will come to his rescue.

Gun wackos

AN INDIGNANT message comes this way from the US.

"As I got ready to pay for my purchases of gunpowder and bullets, 

the cashier said: 'Strip down, facing me.'

"Making a mental note to complain to the National Rifle Association 

about gun control wackos, I did as she had instructed.

"When the hysterical shrieking and alarms finally subsided, I found 

out she was referring to how I should place my credit card in the 

scanner.

"I have been asked to shop elsewhere in the future. They need to 

make their instructions a little clearer for seniors.

"I still don't think I look that bad."

Rugby song

If all the young maidens were fish in the ocean,

Then I'd be a shark and I'd cause a commotion ...

YESTERDAY'S picture of a shark leaping out of the water at Coff's 

Harbour, Australia, recalled the old rugby song.

Okay, they weren't exactly young maidens, they were mums of the 

Coff's Harbour Boardriding Club in a surfing competition. But they 

certainly beat it back to shore in a hurry.

Unfortunately, we don't have the shark's point of view: "Cripes, mate, there I am 

swimming along all innocent when I see this pack of sheilas paddling at me in 

bikinis, full speed, headlight s blazing. Got such a fright I jumped clean out of the 

water ..."

St Clement's

CHRISTMAS is a time for the kids so this week St Clement's came 

briefly out of recess for a bit of childishness and a few glasses of 

vino.

Actually the occasion was the launch of compere Pieter Scholtz's 

latest children's book, Manti's Miracle (Horus Publications), which 

features, among other things, a little girl called Manti, the Hindu 

festival of Divali, a talking cat (but it talks only during Divali) and 

two scarecrows who come to life, one of them a fellow named 

Percival Piston who is made of parts from a junkyard.

If all this sounds a little far-fetched, remember it's a kids' book 

and I'm sure they'll find it a lot of fun.  And it's nothing like as far-

fetched as some of the dinner table conversation you get at St 

Clements.

The weekly soiree re-assembles in February. Meanwhile, Pieter is 

negotiating a fancy treehouse at Eshowe – he's perfectly serious 

about this – and heading to Canada for Christmas.

Our Pieter fancies unconventional digs. No doubt he'll be staying 

in an igloo.

Tailpiece

A WOMAN gives birth to triplets. All are boys. She's breastfeeding 

one evening when the one who has to wait his turn says: "Hey 

Mudda. What about da udda for da udda brudda?"

Last word

He may be mad, but there's method in his madness. There nearly always is 

method in madness. It's what drives men mad, being methodical. 

G K Chesterton

The Idler. Thursday, December 4

Great freeloading tradition

IN VARSITY days, there was a fellow who used to put on a suit every Saturday 

and go to church. There he'd hook up with whatever wedding was on, then with 

the reception afterwards.

There he'd get a bit plastered, have some great eats and meet some lovely girls.

It was a great wheeze. Nobody ever challenged him, presuming he was 

connected to the other family.

Now a law student in Spain has been continuing the great tradition. Francisco 

Nicolas Gomez Iglesias has been gatecrashing government and diplomatic 

functions.

He aims high. He even managed to gatecrash the coronation ceremony of King 

Felipe VI, where he was photographed shaking the monarch's hand.

But he was rumbled recently when he tried to get into a diplomatic party at the US 

embassy in Madrid, and was blocked (Drat these pesky Yanks). The Spanish police 

investigated further and a search of his digs turned up fake government vehicle 

permits, a police siren and official Civil Guard and National Police number plates.

It seems he has successfully passed himself off at various times as a senior 

government official, a secret service agent and a special advisor to the deputy prime 

minister. He's consumed a lot of caviar.

That's not bad for a 20-year-old student. Francisco now faces charges of fraud,, 

forgery and impersonation. But the Spanish public have rallied to his support. The 

newspapers have dubbed him "Little Nicolas", after a fictional naughty schoolboy, 

and presumably photoshopped pictures are appearing on the internet of him in the 

company of Pope Francis and Darth Vader.

Maybe King Felipe will come to his rescue.

Gun wackos

AN INDIGNANT message comes this way from the US.

"As I got ready to pay for my purchases of gunpowder and bullets, 

the cashier said: 'Strip down, facing me.'

"Making a mental note to complain to the National Rifle Association 

about gun control wackos, I did as she had instructed.

"When the hysterical shrieking and alarms finally subsided, I found 

out she was referring to how I should place my credit card in the 

scanner.

"I have been asked to shop elsewhere in the future. They need to 

make their instructions a little clearer for seniors.

"I still don't think I look that bad."

Rugby song

If all the young maidens were fish in the ocean,

Then I'd be a shark and I'd cause a commotion ...

YESTERDAY'S picture of a shark leaping out of the water at Coff's 

Harbour, Australia, recalled the old rugby song.

Okay, they weren't exactly young maidens, they were mums of the 

Coff's Harbour Boardriding Club in a surfing competition. But they 

certainly beat it back to shore in a hurry.

Unfortunately, we don't have the shark's point of view: "Cripes, mate, there I am 

swimming along all innocent when I see this pack of sheilas paddling at me in 

bikinis, full speed, headlight s blazing. Got such a fright I jumped clean out of the 

water ..."

St Clement's

CHRISTMAS is a time for the kids so this week St Clement's came 

briefly out of recess for a bit of childishness and a few glasses of 

vino.

Actually the occasion was the launch of compere Pieter Scholtz's 

latest children's book, Manti's Miracle (Horus Publications), which 

features, among other things, a little girl called Manti, the Hindu 

festival of Divali, a talking cat (but it talks only during Divali) and 

two scarecrows who come to life, one of them a fellow named 

Percival Piston who is made of parts from a junkyard.

If all this sounds a little far-fetched, remember it's a kids' book 

and I'm sure they'll find it a lot of fun.  And it's nothing like as far-

fetched as some of the dinner table conversation you get at St 

Clements.

The weekly soiree re-assembles in February. Meanwhile, Pieter is 

negotiating a fancy treehouse at Eshowe – he's perfectly serious 

about this – and heading to Canada for Christmas.

Our Pieter fancies unconventional digs. No doubt he'll be staying 

in an igloo.

Tailpiece

A WOMAN gives birth to triplets. All are boys. She's breastfeeding 

one evening when the one who has to wait his turn says: "Hey 

Mudda. What about da udda for da udda brudda?"

Last word

He may be mad, but there's method in his madness. There nearly always is 

method in madness. It's what drives men mad, being methodical. 

G K Chesterton

The Idler, Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Bull terrier case law

A MOTORIST has been sent to jail for doing 160km/h in a 50km/h zone, and 

braking erratically, in Durham, England.

The judge told Jordan Winn his story that his bull terrier had been jumping 

about on the control pedals was a "ludicrous account", and sentenced him to 13 

months.

But how well does this judge know bull terriers? Their behaviour in a motor 

vehicle can indeed be capricious. I recall a nightmare car trip up in Maritzburg 

when I sat on the back seat trying to restrain a male bull terrier who was 

anxious to make acquaintance with a female bull terrier being held in the front 

passenger's seat.

This too attracted the attention of the police. The car's progress was decidedly 

erratic. In retrospect, this planned union of two pedigreed bull terriers had a 

serious flaw. They should not have been taken to the honeymoon site in the 

same car. Bull terriers are powerful and determined dogs.

Then there was the case of a character known as the Poison 

Dwarf, who unfortunately blew off his middle toe with a shotgun 

while on a guinea fowl shoot at Otto's Bluff.

He'd been leaning on the butt of the gun, drinking a mug of tea, the 

muzzle pressed on his boot, when somebody's chunky jersey lifted 

one of the shotgun hammers. Whammo! 

They threw the toe into the back of a bakkie then raced for Grey's 

Hospital for a stitch-on. The Poison Dwarf's loyal bull terrier bitch 

jumped aboard as they left. Next thing she was swallowing the toe.

You don't fool around with bull terriers. They've got a mind of their 

own, especially when they get in a vehicle. I say Jordan Winn 

should appeal.

Misplaced identity

IN RECENT days we've looked at a couple of cases of misplaced 

identity.

First there was the Supreme Court judge who was mistaken for 

a lavatory attendant as he waited in the gents' at the airport in 

Johannesburg for his connecting flight to Durban, sipping at a 

cognac from his hand luggage. He received a significant amount in 

tips.

Then there was the maitre d' of the Durban Club who went to the 

Maharani for a nightcap – and was showered with tips by people 

emerging from a banquet.

Reader Johan Bouwer now says he was in practice in the Louis 

Pasteur building in Pretoria in the 80s. The top floor was occupied 

by the pathology lab and one of the pathologists used to dress 

casually in jeans or shorts under a white coat.

"One day he popped out of the lab into the lift, perching on the lift 

attendant's stool with his newspaper. In those days some buildings 

had lift attendants.

"On the way down a lady entered the lift which was quite full 

by now, looked at our path man and instructed: 'Grondvloer 

asseblief.'(Ground floor please).

"He looked at her and said: 'Druk jou eie knoppie, ek is op lunch!' 

(Press your own button, I'm on lunch!).

He's lucky he didn't get his ears boxed. They can be kwaai, those 

Pretoria tannies.

Sad irony

IT'S sad and ironic that at a time people are recalling the life and 

legacy of conservationist Ian Player, who died last Sunday aged 

87, the provincial conservation agency, which he served with such 

distinction for so many years, should be getting publicity all of the 

wrong kind.

Ian was the only field officer to eventually also sit on the Board 

of Natal Parks (now known as Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife). He also 

served on the National Parks Board (headquartered at Kruger 

National Park), and I'm sure he's the only individual ever to have 

sat on both boards.

We can only hope Ezemvelo get their act together – and fast. 

There's a wonderful history they have to live up to.

Mirror image

OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties:

Spyker Koekemoer: "Look at those two disgusting old drunks over 

there."

Patrick Ponsonby-Smythe: "My dear chap, you're looking at a 

mirror. Cheers!"

Tailpiece

The Idler, Tuesday, December 2, 2014

'Stop Swearing' T-shirt

IN RUSSIA they're trying to discourage bad behaviour at football matches, as 

they prepare to host the World Cup in 2018. Crowd behaviour is an issue and 

EUFA sometimes insist that Russian clubs play before empty stadiums.

Part of the campaign is a "Stop Swearing" T-shirt that urges fans to behave. 

Apparently the language on the terraces is somewhat pungent and inflammatory.

The "Stop Swearing" T-shirt was launched at a news conference. But 

unfortunately there was a bit of a glitch and Sergei Cheban, chief executive of 

the Russian Premier League, found it necessary to say to Sergey Alekseyev, 

head of public relations: "Where's the *$^#ing T-shirt, the Stop Swearing one, 

which I asked about? *$^#ing hell, you are going *$^#ing slowly!"

Just as unfortunately, the microphones in front of him picked up the entire thing 

and a video of the incident has been leaked to the internet, where it has gone 

viral.

Mr Cheban stressed at the conference that "the Russian language allows us 

to express colourfully all our emotions", but in a later newspaper interview he 

deplored the leaking of the footage. He said he "sometimes swears, but very 

rarely".

Yes, we should make allowances. When some dumbcluck *$^#s up with the Stop 

Swearing T-shirt, you're entitled to get exasperated and say: "Drat!" Or something 

like it.

Oiks

MEANWHILE, the feudal system is alive and kicking in dear old Blighty, with rants 

just as colourful as that of the chief executive of the Russian Premier League.

It's not too long since a senior Tory was found to have referred to the police looking 

after security at 10 Downing Street as "plebs" – with a colourful adverb attached . 

Now another Tory grandee is in the news.

Legal QC and former cabinet minister David Mellor – these days a radio show co-host 

– has had a furious run-in with a cabbie over the route chosen as he was driven from 

Buckingham Palace to his Thames-side home at St Katharine Docks.

Mellor was with his live-in ladyfriend Viscountess Cobham, who had just received 

the CBE from Prince Charles for her services to promoting tourism. It was during 6 

o'çlock in the evening rush hour,

As Mellor exploded with rage, producing a string of expletives that would be the envy 

of the foc'sle of a pirate ship (or the chief executive of the Russian Premier League), 

the cabbie switched on a tape recorder. Next thing Mellor's colourful vocabulary was 

all over the pages of the tabloid press. And the cabbies are threatening to bar him in 

future from all their cars.

Was Mellor squiffy? But at that early hour? And do they serve the strong stuff at 

CBE investitures at Buckingham Palace? One wouldn't imagine so. Or was Mellors 

fortified before he arrived for the investiture?

Maybe he just can't stand those irritating little oiks.

Game language

HEY, doesn't that name ring a bell? The gamekeeper in Lady Chatterley's Lover – he 

also had a ripe expression or two.

But no, that was Mellors, with an "s". And Mellors didn't lose his temper, not once, 

though his language was most colourful.

Bigamy

OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties: "A bigamist is a man who 

leads a double wife."

Court record

MORE from the American courts:

• Attorney: "This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your 

memory at all?

 Witness: "Yes."

Attorney: "And in what ways does it affect your memory?"

 Witness: "I forget."

Attorney: "You forget? Can you give us an example of 

something you forgot?"

• Attorney: " Now Doctor, isn't it true that when a 

person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it 

until the next morning?"

 Witness: "Did you actually pass the Bar exam?"

• Attorney: "The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how 

old is he?"

Witness: ""He's 20, much like your IQ."

• Attorney: "She had three children, right?"

 Witness: "Yes."

 Attorney: "How many were boys?

 Witness: "None."

 Attorney: Were there any girls?

 Witness: "Your Honour, I think I need a different attorney. 

Can I get a new attorney?"

Tailpiece

PUNTER: "For Christmas I want a dragon."

Santa: "Be realistic."

Punter: "Okay, a loyal girlfriend."

Santa: "What colour dragon do you want?"

Last word

When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands 

explained. 

Mark Twain

The Idler, Monday, December 1, 2014

The frogs are back

THE frog chorus has returned. At the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties the other 

evening, a bellowing and croaking from a small pond in the beer garden suddenly 

drowned out all conversation (which at the Street Shelter can be no bad thing).

Heads swivelled toward a well-known city advocate who is widely believed to be 

a ventriloquist of frog sounds. But he stoutly denied any responsibility at all and 

threatened to sue any accuser for libel.

At which the frog chorus went silent. Ah, the majesty of the law.

Where from?

BUT where do these critters come from? There are no rivers, marshes or ponds 

anywhere near the Street Shelter.

The beer garden pond is so tiny that wild duck don't alight there with frog spawn 

attached to their feathers (though the bouncers did the other night have to throw out 

an ostrich who was causing a ruckus at the bar counter. But ducks - no).

The last frog chorus, a month or so ago, was scooped into buckets and deposited in 

Bulwer Park, which is quite a distance. Have they been hopping back? Do they have a 

homing instinct?

The Guvnor believes they come from Musgrave Centre (I don't know why). He's 

never seen them squashed on the roads so he believes they hop along the pavements 

and activate the "green man" at the crossings.

It's a great mystery. As is the practice of ventriloquy.

Look you, boyos!

WHAT can one say but "Cymru am byth – Wales forever!" Leigh Halfpenny is 

now rated Fourpence.

A tough, hard-fought game, to be sure, strewn with errors and one we never 

looked like winning. Not a single try, either side.

But that's showbiz. Yet again, a result that shows a narrowing of the north-

south gap in international rugby. Likewise with England beating the Aussies 

after coming so close against us and the All Blacks.

It looks like being an absolute humdinger at the World Cup in England next 

year. The bookies must be scratching their heads.

More tips

LAST WEEK WE DISCUSSED THE Supreme Court judge who was mistaken for 

a lavatory attendant as he sat on a chair in the gents' taking a snifter from his 

duty-free cognac and waited for his connecting flight from Johannesburg to 

Durban. He collected a significant amount of cash in tips in that time.

It reminds reader Colin Hiles of the time he and some pals took their wives 

to dinner at the Durban Club. They were friendly with the maitre d' and 

arranged to meet him afterwards at the Maharani for a nightcap.

"He duly arrived, resplendent in his Durban Club maître d' formal dress, just 

as the guests at a large banquet were leaving the banqueting venue. Polite 

as ever, he stopped to let them pass.

"A gentleman pressed a R5 note into his palm. This was followed by more 

such gratuities. When he arrived at the bar to join us he said: "I've just been 

given R60 in tips so I guess the drinks are on me".

Judges, maitres d' ... I fancy I saw a couple of them at a robot the other day.

Shova!

IN THE local taxi industry you will now and again see the passengers get out and give 

the vehicle a push start. It's part of the system

In Siberia the other day, passengers had to get out of a Tupolev aircraft and push 

it down a frozen runway before getting in again to fly off.

It was captured on video and posted on the internet. The temperature was minus 

52 C. Passengers in thick winter coats are heard shouting: "Let's go!" and: 

"Everyone wants to go home!" as they put their hands on the wings of the plane 

and shoved it along.

The freeze had apparently immobilised the aircraft's taxi-ing capacity but once 

out on the runway it took off without any problem.

Fifty-two degrees below – and you have to get out and push. Siberia is not for 

sissies.

Tailpiece

"SO HOW was the fancy dress do?"

"Bad build-up. I texted my husband to tell him to get home, I'd made myself 

a 'naked lady' costume."

"He texted me back that he'd prefer a 'lady making dinner' costume."

Last word

The world only goes round by misunderstanding. 

Charles Baudelaire