The Idler, Tuesday, July 9, 2019

Transatlantic

Punch and

Judy show

 

THE world stage increasingly resembles a Punch and Judy show. In leaked memos to his government from the British ambassador in Washington, Sir Kim Darroch, Donald Trump is described as "incompetent", "inept" and "insecure".

The White House has become "uniquely dysfunctional", he says, with "vicious infighting and chaos". He questions whether it "will ever look competent". He describes Trump's policy toward Iran as "incoherent, chaotic …"

What price the "special relationship"? The British government hasn't denied the authenticity of the leaked memos – which appeared in the London Daily Mail - and has launched an inquiry into who did the leaking. Foreign secretary (and wannabe prime minister) Jeremy Hunt distances himself from the content.

Yep, a great Punch and Judy show. Kim Jong-un – good guy! Sir Kim Darroch – bad guy! (Just be clear which Kim you're talking about). Trump says there's plenty he could say about Sir Kim, but he won't, though he hasn't served the UK well.

You couldn't make it up.

 

 

Waterkloof

INVESTMENT analyst Dr James Greener turns his attention in his latest grumpy newsletter to the Waterkloof air base affair.

"One of the many commissions of inquiry trying to piece together the nation's recent past has reached the point in their deliberations where they are learning about the notorious Gupta family's contempt for South African sovereignty.

"The incident where they landed a chartered private plane full of wedding guests from India at a military airport is being discussed.

"The buck for allowing this to happen was at the time passed very swiftly along a line of assorted scapegoats, and now senior officers are stuttering their way through variants of the 'It was not me, I was not there' excuse.

"Apart from pride and protocol it seems that nothing else was compromised or stolen except for confirmation that politicians and officials have zero skills in selecting friends or advisors."

 

 

Car pool lane

 

IN THE American state of Nevada, they have a special "car pool" lane on the highway, for use only of private cars carrying passengers. A vehicle in the car pool lane has to have a minimum of two occupants.

The Nevada Highway Patrol pulled over a hearse the other day, accusing the driver of being in the car pool lane without a passenger, according to Huffington Post. Not so, the driver responded. His passenger was in a coffin in the back.

They let him off, but the Nevada Highway Patrol has now issued a statement saying that passengers in the car pool lane have to be alive.

It recalls an in incident in Maritzburg years ago when a pal of mine had been celebrating copiously at his sister's wedding when he unfortunately crashed into a hearse at an intersection in the CBD.

When the driver of the hearse got out, he was staggering badly.

It ended up in court, where a cop told the beak: "The only sober person on the scene was the corpse."

 

 

Tailpiece

 

A DOG is sitting in the cinema with his owner. He stares intently at the screen. He growls when the villain comes on, wags his tail when the hero appears.

An old lady has been watching. She says to the owner: "That's extraordinary behaviour by your dog."

"It is surprising. He hated the book."

Last word

 

Television news is like a lightning flash. It makes a loud noise, lights up everything around it, leaves everything else in darkness and then is suddenly gone.

Hodding Carter

The Idler, Monday, July 8, 2019

Stirring

up a wasps'

nest

 

LAST week we discussed an incident at Richmond Country Club where I arrived for a golf tournament, only for a cloud of angry hornets to issue from the boot of my car when I opened it, proceeding to sting bystanders (but leave myself untouched).

They had established a large nest in the bottom of my golf bag, which I had not used in years. They were greatly irritated by being jolted about in the boot of a car.

But I'm told by reader Charles Botha that there are no hornets in South Africa.

"There is a foreign introduced species in the Cape, but all the local ones are wasps. All hornets are of the wasp family, but the wasps we have are not hornets."

Now Charles is a former chairman of the Wildlife and Environment Society in this province. He knows his wasps from his hornets.

That incident at Richmond was a while ago so it's a bit late now to produce Charles as a witness to the falsity of the accusations made against me at the time – that I deliberately set a cloud of angry hornets upon innocent golfers; that I had maliciously trained them for the attack, as evidenced by the fact that they did not sting me, their trainer. It got quite heated in the bar that evening.

But as Charles says, there are no hornets in South Africa. Nobody said a thing about wasps.

M'lud, I rest my case.

 

 

Crayfish

 

THE above recalls another case of colloquial inexactitude. This fellow on the North Coast had been grabbed by the shad sheriffs for poaching crayfish.

He appeared in court. There he produced evidence from several encyclopaedias describing the crayfish as a freshwater crustacean in North America.

The same encyclopaedias described the creature found in our waters as the "spiny rock lobster". That did not appear in the charge sheet, which spoke of "crayfish".

Hey, clever fellow. Case dismissed? Alas, no.

The Afrikaans version of the same provincial ordinance spoke of "kreef". A kreef is a kreef, unheard of in the fresh waters of North America. He was found guilty of poaching kreef.

Here was a case of colloquial inexactitude actually getting into the statute books – the English version anyway.

 

 

Chomp, chomp

WHILE Donald Trump seemed to be trying to add a Hanoi-style military touch to the Fourth of July parade in Washington last week, in New York things were more traditional.

On the boardwalk at Coney Island, Joey "Jaws" Chestnut chomped his way through 71 hot dogs in 10 minutes to win Nathan's Fourth of July Hot Dog Eating Contest, which has been going since 1916.

This marked Chestnut's 12^th winning of the "Mustard Belt", though he failed to equal the world record of 74, he set up last year, according to USA today..

In the women's section, reigning champion Miki Sudo managed 31 to hold her title.

We're not told if they went to a hamburger joint afterwards to celebrate.

 

 

Two wins

I TOLD you the Proteas would beat Australia. Too late, nothing at stake – it just shows how much of the malady is in the kop.

And Bafana beat Egypt. Maybe we're  getting up off the canvas.

Tailpiece

IT'S the jet age. Breakfast in Rome, lunch in Paris, dinner in London – luggage in Singapore.

Last word

There's a whiff of the lynch mob or the lemming migration about any overlarge concentration of like-thinking individuals, no matter how virtuous their cause. - PJ O'Rourke

 

The Idler, Friday, July 5, 2019

Can the

Proteas come

to light?

TOMORROW is D-Day – donner the bliksems. The only way the Proteas can leave England on any kind of high note is to beat the Aussies in this last pool match of the Cricket World Cup.

Otherwise it's rather thin gruel. Bafana have all but blown it in the Afcon. We're trying to forget about Super-12 rugby. Perhaps our gals will lift national morale with a decent performance in the Netball World Cup later this month, but not all of us get that excited about netball.

You could argue that a South African racehorse is certain to win the Vodacom July at Greyville tomorrow, but that's stretching it a bit. Also, there's always the possibility that an itinerate Irishman or Aussie could take the gilt off the gingerbread by winning the final race, the one where the fellows do a streak down the home straight in the altogether in the gathering dusk.

No, the onus is on the Proteas. This time they must come to light. They've never once performed to their known capacity, it's been as if they don't have their minds on the game. Could it be the IPL that's the big distraction?

They must get focused and stay focused. National morale is at stake. Of course they can beat the Aussies.

And you know what? I reckon they probably will.

Meanwhile, it seems we'll have lovely weather for the Vodacom July. The fashionistas should give us a good laugh, they always do.

My tip for the Big Race? Put your money on Itchybum – that's if it's not scratched.

 

 

Milligan

YESTERDAY we discussed Spike Milligan's hilarious book, Puckoon, from which readings were made this week at the St Clement's arts soiree.

Milligan, of course, was no stranger to Durban. His comedy show was staged here regularly. And when he was in town he took a keen interest in marine science. He was very concerned about the welfare of the octopus in the Sea World aquarium, in those days at the bottom of West Street.

My old mate Dr Rudi van der Elst would read in the papers that Milligan was in town again. He would await his visit.

"You're still ill-treating that octopus!" Milligan would rage.

"In what way, Spike?"

"You've still got him in a tiny little crevice in the rocks.

"That's the way octopuses like to be, Spike."

"Nonsense! Octopuses like to swim free in the ocean."

"Spike, if an octopus swims free in the ocean it gets chowed pretty quickly by a barracuda or something."

"Nonsense! You've been ill-treating that octopus for years now."

"Spike, it's not the same octopus."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not the same octopus. They live only six months."

"Nonsense! It recognised me. It winked at me."

It was an argument that was never resolved.

 

 

More Milligan

WHO remembers Cilla Duff, that gorgeous and so amusing columnist on the Sunday Tribune in days of yore, now living in Canada?

Cilla had dinner with Spike Milligan one night. He spoke about nothing but rugby.

"Aren't you interested in anything but rugby?" she asked him.

"My dear, there's nothing in the world more important than rugby."

She got a great column out of it. But just as well the conversation didn't drift round to octopuses.

 

 

Tailpiece

WHAT has eight guns and terrorises the ocean?

Billy the Squid.

 

Last word

 

A conservative is a man who believes that nothing should be done for the first time. - Alfred E Wiggam

 

The Idler, Thursday, July 4, 2029

St Clement's

soiree rides

again

'TWAS a resounding evening at the St Clement's arts soiree this week with readings from two extremes of the literary landscape – Welsh poet and playwright Dylan Thomas, caught in a snowstorm in a melancholy return to a bomb-shattered post-war Swansea; and Spike Milligan at his zany best, caricaturing Ireland and himself with a laugh a line.

Thomas's Return Journey was read by soiree kingpin Pieter Scholtz, Barbara Martin, Roger Knowles and Nick Kightley. Between them they sure got across Thomas's masterly portrayal of bleakness.

"The wind cut up the street with a soft sea-noise hanging on its arm, like a hooter in a muffler. I could see the swathed hill stepping up out of the town, which you never could see properly before, and the powdered field of the roofs of Milton Terrace and Watkin Street and Fullers Row. Fish-frailed, netbagged, umbrella'd, pixie-capped, fur-shoed, blue-nosed, puce-lipped, blinkered like drayhorses, scarved, mittened, galoshed, wearing everything but the cat's blanket, crushes of shopping-women crunched in the little Lapland of the once grey drab street, blew and queued and yearned for hot tea, as I began my search through Swansea town cold and early on that wicked February morning …"

Powerful stuff. You shiver. Thomas couldn't have evoked more weary despair if he were writing about a return to contemporary Maritzburg.

Then the Milligan drollery - Puckoon, set in the time of the partitioning of North and South in Ireland, read by Scholtz and Kightley. This is a masterpiece of comic writing, starting with a fierce debate between the central character "The Milligan" and the writer who, of course, is Milligan.

At issue is the spindly white legs with which the writer Milligan has endowed the character The Milligan. Also the violent fat wife he has thrust upon him. This is classic stuff that only Milligan could have dreamed up.

The Milligan sings as he rides his bicycle down the road.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh IIIIIIIIIIIIII

Once knew a judy in Dubleen town

Her eyes were blue and her hair was brown,

One night on the grass I got her down

And I …

"The rest of the words were lost to view as he turned a bend in the road …"

Magnificent. And how about this?

"Father Patrick Rudden paused as he trod the gravel path of the church drive. He ran his kerchief round the inside of his holy clerical collar. Then he walked slowly to the grave of the late Miss Griselda Strains and pontifically lowered his ecclesiastical rump on to the worn slab, muttering a silent apology to the departed lady, but reflecting, it wouldn't be the first time she'd had a man on top of her, least of all one who apologised as he did."

Or this bit where Father Rudden restrains Milligan from hurriedly leaving on his bicycle by seizing the seat of his trousers.

"Oh, steady Father," gasped Milligan, "dem's more than me trousers yer clutchin'."

"Sorry, Milligan, said the priest, releasing his grip. We celibates are inclined to forget them parts."

Wonderful stuff. I'm sure most of us had read Puckoon but the soiree folk were helpless with laughter all the same. Puckoon has to be one of the funniest books ever written in English.

Tailpiece

THE epitaph on Spike Milligan's gravestone: "I told you I was ill."(He died aged 83).

 

Last word

The public will believe anything, so long as it is not founded on truth. - Edith Sitwell

 

 

 

 

 

The Idler, Wednesday, July 3, 2019

Another

global warming

outcome

 

GLOBAL warming is causing wasps in America to build huge "super-nests" with thousands more than usual just waiting to sting.

Agricultural experts in Alabama say there can be as many as 15 000 wasps in a super-nest, four times normal. Some of the nests are the size of a small car.

In most years, the winter freeze kills off many colonies. But if that doesn't happen and a colony survives the winter, a super-nest can form. So far 15 have been found in Alabama this year, according to Huffington Post..

The wasps in question are known as yellowjackets and are highly aggressive. They sting repeatedly if disturbed, and the outcome can sometimes be fatal.

Oh boy, people must watch their golf bags. The last time I played golf we were disturbed by hornets – I suppose you could call them "bluejackets".

I was invited to play in this tournament at Richmond Country Club, not having played much since varsity days. Came the day and I couldn't find my golf bag, which was an ancient, battered item filled with non-matching clubs.

Eventually I did find it hanging in a garden shed at my parents' home. With relief I threw it into the boot of the car and set off for Richmond.

What I didn't know was that hornets had built a huge earthern nest in the bottom of the bag. Being jolted around in the boot of a car all the way to Richmond put them in rather a bad mood.

When I opened the boot to get the golf bag, a cloud of angry, buzzing hornets flew out and began stinging everyone in proximity – except myself, oddly enough. It was as if they wouldn't attack the chauffeur, who had to drive them home.

It caused some consternation and anguish. Not a good start to a day's golf. Alabama golfers need to carefully check their bags.

 

 

Epic trek

NORWEGIAN scientists are astonished by the epic trek of a young Arctic fox that walked across the ice from Norway's Svalbard islands to northern Canada - a distance of 3 506km - in 76 days.

Researchers at the Polar Institute fitted the young female with a GPS tracking device and freed her into the wild in late March last year on the east coast of Spitsbergen, the Svalbard archipelago's main island, according to the BBC.

The fox set off west in search of food, reaching Greenland just 21 days later - a journey of 1 512 km - before starting the second leg of her trek.

Maybe the fox-hunting folk were out on the ice with their hounds and chivvied her along. Tally-ho! The unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable, as Oscar Wilde put it.

 

Tailpiece

 

IT'S a sunny morning, and this fellow is on the golf course beginning his preshot routine, visualising his upcoming shot, when a voice comes over the clubhouse loudspeaker. "Would the gentleman on the ladies' tee please back up to the men's tee."

He remains in his routine, seemingly unfazed by the interruption.

A little louder: "Would the man on the women's tee kindly back up to the men's tee!"

He raises up out of his stance, lowers his driver, and shouts, "Would the announcer in the clubhouse kindly shut up and let me play my second shot?"

 

Last word

 

A sense of duty is useful in work, but offensive in personal relations. People wish to be liked, not be endured with patient resignation. - Bertrand Russell

The Idler, Tuesday, July 2, 2029

Sardines –

they won't

let us down

 

THERE'S utter chaos in local government these days, but at least the sardines aren't letting us down. They've shown up at 'Toti and before too long they should be all over the South Coast, so long as the sea remains calm.

Sardine fever – yep them wuz the days, scooting up and down the South Coast looking for the shoals.

It could get exciting. Once I was riding pillion on a motorcycle, holding the rods while my pal steered us bumpily over the sleepers of the South Coast railway line. It's an excellent way to get from Pennington, say, to Clansthal.

Except this time we encountered a steam locomotive coming the opposite way. Down the embankment onto the Pennington golf course.

A pity about those wheelies on the putting green, but in sardine season anything goes.

 

 

Maneating snake

 

IF IT'S not Brexit and Boris Johnson to give the Brits the creeps, it's a 2.7m snake that's capable of swallowing a human.

It's a reticulated python – native to south-east Asia - that's on the loose in the English university town of Cambridge. It's been spotted slithering about the place, according to Sky News, but so far police have been unable to locate it, though they're hunting furiously.

They've located the owner – he kept the snake as a pet and it escaped – but he has so far not been able to find it either.

This is serious. The reticulated python will be getting peckish. Next we'll be reading of the mysterious disappearance of a professor of classics, then perhaps a scientist or two. The place will be in a panic.

It's surely highly irresponsible to keep a man-eating reticulated python in a university town. The cops ought to use the owner as bait for this python. They might be able to snatch him free in time. If not, well – serves him right!

 

 

Deux M

 

MY OLD mate Ernie Robbertse, who runs the luxury tented camp at Tembe Elephant Park, just beneath the Mozambique border, sends in an item from yesterday's "On this day" feature, noting the treaty 144 years ago that established the border between Natal and Mozambique.

This has relevance to Ernie. The Elephant Park's northern boundary coincides with the line drawn on a map by Marshal Patrice de MacMahon, President of France, in an arbitration award.

In gratitude, the Mozambicans named a Portuguese-style beer in his honour, "Deux M" (Two Ms) – which is still brewed to this day and which Ernie serves to his guests.

Elephant, rhino, lions, leopards, buffalo – and Deux M of an evening. Who could want more?

 

 

Tailpiece

 

TWO Injun scouts are with an Irishman in the wilds of Canada. One scout runs up to the mouth of a small cave and calls" "Wooooo… wooooo … wooooo!"

An answering call comes: "Wooooo ,,, wooooo ,,, wooooo!"

 

The scout disappears into the cave.

 

"What's dis 'Wooooo … wooooo … wooooo!'? What's goin' on."

 

"Beautiful squaw in cave," says the second scout. Him make love to her."

 

"Lucky feller."

 

They come to another cave. The second scouts runs up to it. "Wooooo … wooooo … wooooo!"

An answering call: "Wooooo … wooooo … wooooo!" The second scout disappears.

 

The Irishman comes to yet another cave. "Wooooo … wooooo … wooooo!" he calls.

Reply: "WOOOOO … WOOOOO … WOOOOO!!" He rushes in.

Newspaper headline: "Naked Irishman run over by Montreal Express."

 

 

 

Last word

 

If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.

Isaac Newton

The Idler, Mopnday, July 1, 2019

Housing

crisis in

Britain

OVER in Blighty, the race hots up for leadership of the Tory party, which currently also means the prime ministership.

It's been enlivened of late by news that the police were called in the early hours to the flat in Camberwell, south London, that frontrunner Boris Johnson shares with his girlfriend, to investigate female screams, shouting, banging and crashing. They apparently found nothing amiss and left. (The poltergeists are a real problem in Camberwell).

Johnson and his wife divorced a while ago.

Now satirical magazine Private Eye has come out with a front cover photograph of Boris Johnson clutching a hold-all outside No 10 Downing Street, the prime minister's official residence.

Speaks bubble: "I really need somewhere to live!"

Yeah, it's tough to be a bachelor again. Some say the prime ministership is a poisoned chalice right now because the Tories don't have a majority in the House of Commons and the House has already ruled out the "no deal" Brexit that Johnson appears to champion.

But at least it would give poor old Boris a roof over his head.

 

 

New guide

INVESTMENT analyst Dr James Greener expresses sympathy in his latest grumpy newsletter with the lot of our overworked political leaders.

"Those of us who are concerned about the working conditions for our leaders are very relieved to hear that a new guide to replace the infamous Ministerial Handbook has finally been published.

"Among the improved conditions for our severely overworked ministers, deputy ministers, provincial premiers and other feeders on the public purse is that the state can spend a quarter of a million (inflation linked) rands on security measures for their official residences.

"Meanwhile the nation's 257 mayors (why so few?) are being urged to give up luxury vehicles and use public transport in order to cut costs.

"The even more lowly ranked Amakhosi (traditional leaders) and izinduna (headmen) are also very likely to ignore this advice as they are currently lobbying for free wi-fi and briefcases with a set of car keys - presumably with a matching car - upon appointment."

 

 

Convocation

AN ASSEMBLAGE of rare talent and brilliance takes place at Maritzburg College early next month, a convocation of excellence.

The school has produced many a prodigy in its century and a half plus of existence, but nothing compares with the Sixth Form of 1959 for producing lovers, sportsmen, financiers, farmers, musicians, artists, intellectuals and fine all-rounders generally.

Why, one of them once took 4 for 32 with his artful legbreaks for the Durban Press XI against the RAF Red Arrows, and wound up writing the Idler's column.

They will be celebrating their 60th anniversary of leaving College with a lunch at the school on Friday, August 2. Anyone wishing to attend should contact Linda Laubscher by July 12 at 033-3429878/082-8228199/oldboys@iafrica.com

This will be a humdinger.

 

 

Proteas bow out

HEY, the smart money says the Proteas will go out on a high today with a win over Australia in their final match of the Cricket World Cup.

Too late for the play-offs but 'twould be a great morale-booster after an otherwise disastrous showing. Nothing at stake, minds in the right place – let's show 'em!

Tailpiece

PADDY phones the hospital in a panic. "Me woife's pregnant, she's gone into labour and de contractions are two minutes apart

"Is this her first child?"

"No, dis is her husband!"

 

Last word

Hell hath no fury like a bureaucrat scorned. - Milton Friedman