The Idler, Thursday, September 26, 2013

Football extravaganza planned

IS THIS wise? A football pitch has been marked out in the gardens of Buckingham Palace for a match next month between Britain's two oldest clubs. Civil Service FC, founded in 1863 will take on Polytechnic FC (1875).

The match will mark the 150^th anniversary of the Football Association, of which Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, is president. He will host the occasion though it's not clear whether his grandmother, Queen Elizabeth, will also attend.

Nor is it clear who else might attend. Will the football rowdies also be there? Is there not a risk they could go on a drunken rampage through the art galleries and the rest of the palace splendours?

Apparently they did once stage a boxing match at Buckingham Palace back in the 1950s – it was probably Churchill versus Atlee – but football could be a step into total disorder.

'Erewego, 'erewego, 'erewego!

 

Value for money

WHICH recalls the story of the punter who approached a ticket tout just before the FA Cup Final.

"How much?"

"'Undred quid to you, guvnor."

"A hundred pounds? Why man, for that I could have the best tart in Piccadilly!"

"Maybe, guvnor. But not 45 minutes each way and a brass band in between."

 

Dare we hope?

THE PLIGHT of the rhino is suddenly getting heavy coverage on the overseas TV networks. Dare we hope that an international wave of revulsion is building up against the Vietnamese and Chinese goons who are driving the poaching racket, sufficient to counter them?

Stranger things have happened. When Ian Player and his band of Zululand rangers set out to rescue the white rhino from extinction in the 1950s, its position was possibly even more perilous than today. The Nat central government was hostile to conservation. Its supporters in the ranching lobby were campaigning for the Zululand reserves to be deproclaimed. The rest of us were pretty apathetic.

But determination and skilful management won through. The tide turned. The conservation lobby became seemingly unstoppable. Can it happen again in a wider arena?

Conservation is girding its loins. Player's book, The White Rhino Saga (Jonathan Ball) has just been republished, 40 years on. It follows publication of his biography, Into the River of Life (also Jonathan Ball).

And at St Clements this week we were treated to a 16-minute clip from a 70-minute production being put together by Bushman Films, in which Player sets out his whole philosophy of conservation and its role if homo sapiens is to be rescued from himself.

'Twas powerful stuff. Player is 86 now but possessed of a lucidity that is remarkable. He seems to relish the approaching struggle.

This production – by Rick and Gill Andrew – is the sort of thing that must surely end up on the overseas networks.

A luta continhua!

Kroonstad

READER Brian Norris confirms last week's piece on the origins of the Free State town of Kroonstad. It was indeed named after a horse named Kroon, but it seems Kroon didn't drown in the nearby Vals River, he broke a leg.

Brian quotes the New Dictionary of South African Place Names: "It was laid out on the farm Klipplaatsdrift in 1855. Generally accepted to have been named after Kroondrift, a ford so called because a horse named Kroon broke its leg there. Explanations linking the name to Kronstadt near Leningrad and to the English Crown (Afrikaans kroon) are dismissed."

So that's it then. Remember where you read it first!

Less is more

THE SUFFIX "less" seems to feature so much in the language these days, says reader Eric Hodgson, that it seems to indicate a social trend.

Our phones – wireless; cooking – fireless; cars – keyless; food – fatless; tyres – tubeless; dress – sleeveless; youth – jobless; leaders – shameless; relationships – meaningless; attitude – careless; wives – fearless; babies – fatherless; feelings – heartless; education – valueless; children – mannerless; politicians – clueless.

"Our hopes are endless, so much so that I am speechless."

Tailpiece

A SMALL boy is in a restaurant with his mother when he starts spluttering and choking. He's swallowed a coin. He's going blue in the face when a smartly-dressed young woman rushes across to help. She seizes him by the testicles and squeezes. He coughs up the coin and all is well.

"Thank you, thank you!" says the mother. "You must be a doctor."

"I'm not a doctor but I do have training. I'm with SARS."

Last word

People who get nostalgic about childhood were obviously never children.

Bill Watterson

 

The Idler, Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Rugby's funny faces

 

THE TV cameramen are having a lot of fun these days, zooming in on the gurning features of rugby coaches as they sit there in their box, the tension getting at them.

 

Currently ahead by far in the entertainment stakes is Springbok coach Heyneke Meyer, who looks perpetually as if the Gorgon of Greek fable has just offered him a kiss. (And who is he yelling at down the telephone, by the way? The players can't hear him, and he surely can't be talking to the bookies).

 

But Meyer has competition. Lions coach Johan Ackermann presents a constant look of a bleakness suggestive of gamma rays and lasers as he contemplates what is happening before him. I'd hate to see him when things are going badly.

 

But neither has caught up yet with our own Ian McIntosh. For facial contortions and pop-eyed near-apoplexy in the days he coached Natal, then the Boks, he's still way ahead. The New Zealand cameramen in particular used to focus on Mac almost as much as on the game.

 

Golf book

 

A NEW HANDBOOK on golf will soon be on sale, according to an excitable pre-launch blurb that has come through cyberspace from an unidentified author.

 

Highlights include:

 

·        How to properly line up your fourth putt.

·        How to hit a Maxfli ball from the rough when you just hit a Titleist from the tee.

·        How to get more distance off the shank .

·        How to find that ball that everyone else saw go in the water

·        How to relax when you're hitting three off the tee.

·        How to relax when you're hitting five off the tee.

 

Yes, this is a man who's played some golf.

 

 

Childline gig

 

MY OLD MUSICIAN pal, Smelly Fellows, has got together with some of his fellow-musos to raise funds for Childline which, as reported, is in dire straits.

 

They're putting on a gig at LIVE, 166 Stamford Hill Road, starting at 2pm this Saturday. LIVE'S management have made the venue available, along with all the necessary equipment and sound engineering staff. LIVE holds about 300 people.

 

Performers will be Salty Dog, Sir Walrus Band, F 'n Rits, Zwarte Piet Band, East Coast Basement Blues Band, Gainsford and Bobby and The Dynamites – all playing free of charge.

 

Comedian, actor, raconteur and radio personality Frank Graham will assist as Master of Ceremonies..

 

The entrance fee is R50 per person. The musos also want to stage raffles and have appealed to Durban businesses to donate whatever they can for prizes – products, gift hampers, gift vouchers and so forth. They can be contacted at 078-2649475 and will collect donations.

 

Come on, Durban – let's let rip!

 

Tailpiece

A FARMER leaves his truck at the local mechanic's. The farm is not far from the village so he starts walking.

On his way he stops at the hardware store and buys a bucket and a can of paint. He stops at the livestock store and picks up a couple of chickens and a goose. However, he now has a problem - how to carry his purchases home.
He's approached by a little old lady who tells him she is lost. "Can you tell me how to get to 1603 Mockingbird Lane?"
"Well, my farm is very close to that house. I'd walk you there but I can't carry this lot."
"Why don't you put the can of paint in the bucket. Carry the bucket in one hand, put a chicken under each arm and carry the goose in your other hand."
"Why, thank you very much." He proceeds to walk the old girl home. On the way he says: "Let's take my short cut down this alley."
She looks at him cautiously. "I'm a lonely widow. How do I know that when we get in the alley you won't hold me up against the wall, pull my skirt up  and have your way with me?"
"Holy smoke, lady! I'm carrying a bucket, a can of paint, two chickens, and a goose. How in the world could I possibly hold you up against the wall and do that?"
"Set the goose down, cover him with the bucket, put the paint on top of the bucket, and I'll hold the chickens."

Last word

Treat all disasters as if they were trivialities but never treat a triviality as if it were a disaster.

Quentin Crisp

 

The Idler, uesday, September 24, 2013

Pretoria's streets of fear

 

CHILLING news comes in from Pretoria. People are being terrified after dark by mystery assailants whose desperation and violence are causing alarm to the police.

 

In the words of one victim, a middle-aged woman. "I was walking home from the café with some groceries, just as it was getting dark.

 

"Two huge men suddenly jumped out at me from a hedge. They were absolute strangers. One clapped his hand over my mouth so I couldn't scream for help. The other grappled me to the ground and held me down.

 

"Then I went cold as I felt him forcing something into my bra. Then they both let me go and ran away into the dark.

 

"I was terrified. What had they forced onto me? What evil thing was this? I sort of staggered to a street lamp and took out what they'd put in my bra.

 

"It was tickets for the next Blue Bulls rugby match."

 

A police spokesman warned. "People must be on the lookout. Don't walk about alone after dark in Pretoria. Men have been attacked in this way as well as women. These people are desperate. The safety of nobody can be guaranteed."

 

Demerit cards

 

READER Rob Fletcher agrees that yellow cards and red cards can't continue to be allowed to wreck rugby matches as a contest, the way it happened in Auckland. He suggests the cards being used as points demerits instead of players being dismissed from the field.

 

"Instead of players being yellow/red-carded and dismissed from the field of play, we should instead introduce negative scoring.

 

"For a yellow card offence, the offending side gets three points deducted from their current score (even if it's zero) and the game immediately goes on after an appropriate penalty, with the full 15 players on each side.

 

"For a red card, the offending side loses seven points and the game goes on after an appropriate penalty, with the full 15 on each side. Two yellow cards and the points loss becomes seven. If the same player is responsible for both yellow cards, he is replaced on the field by a player from the bench and does not return.

 

 

"The benefit is that there would be no destructive change to the game and its pattern and flow. The offending side is still penalised and hurt by the points loss but has opportunities to recover. The spectators still see an evenly matched game and the sponsors remain satisfied."

 

If I understand Rob correctly, the penalty going with a yellow card offence could cause a points differential of six points; with a red card it could become 10.

 

Sounds OK to me. Any more ideas out there?

 

Glaring omission

 

OUTRAGE over the refereeing at Auckland – and the Bismarck tackle - reaches even into the realms of finance and investment. In his latest grumpy newsletter, analyst Dr James Greener says the section on tackling was apparently omitted from the French translation of the Laws of Rugby.

 

"So that clears up that issue. More importantly, however, the provincial Department of Sport and Recreation is calling for nominations to honour sporting champions here in KZN. As an indicator of how a bureaucrat's mind works, the 16 categories include the province's best administrator, the best federation and the best recreation body. Nominations in a Posthumous Category are also expected."

 

Yes, there is much that is puzzling about sport these days. In a news report on controversy over the nomination of new members of yet another SABC board, one sentence leaps out: "MPs had wanted to nominate Zola Majavu, a leading lawyer and former prosecutor for the Premier Soccer League."

 

Does the Premier Soccer League really have a "prosecutor"? Who does he prosecute? Red card offenders? And where do these prosecutions take place? Is a parallel legal system in operation?

 

One feels that, in the hurly-burly of life, quite a lot is passing us by.

 

 

Tailpiece

"I'M TAKING the wife skydiving. It's her first time and I'm a bit uneasy."

"I bet you are."

"Yeah, I think I ought to warn the weather bureau about this possible solar eclipse."

 

Last word

If fifty million people say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing.

Anatole France

 

The Idler, Monday, September 23. 2013

Kilroy, Chad, Foo

 

TWO READERS supply ripostes to the off-beat "Kilroy was here" graffiti mentioned last week. For those who missed this play on the ubiquitous sketch of the fellow poking his nose over the wall, placed in unlikely places all over the world by American GIs during World War II, it's repeated:

 

I clap my hands,

I jump for joy,

For I got here

Before Kilroy.

 

"JB" responds:

 

Alas my friend,

Too soon you spoke.

Kilroy was here

But his pencil broke

 

Richard Robinson, of Hillcrest, supplies a slightly different version:

 

Sorry to spoil

Your little joke,

I was here

But my pencil broke.

 

However, Richard says the sketch of a man with his nose over the wall related not to Kilroy but to a character called "Chad", who always appeared – it was during the war – with the comment: "Wot no bread?" (or whatever else happened to be in short supply).

 

This is puzzling. Every bit of Kilroy graffiti I've ever seen has had the fellow with his nose over the wall.

 

A bit of research suggests that Chad was a British version of Kilroy. On the eve of the D-Day landings in Normandy, a giant troop-carrying glider was daubed: "Wot no engines?" – and accompanied by the sketch. Perhaps James Kilroy - who used to inspect the riveting on ships that were being built in a hurry in America during the war, then OK them with the sketch and the words "Kilroy was here" – got the idea from Chad.

 

But who the original Chad might have been remains a mystery.

 

There was also an Australian version, the character being named "Foo". This graffiti seems to date back to World War I.

 

Can anyone out there shed further light?

 

Kilroy was here

And so was Chad.

Also Foo,

But don't feel bad.

 

 

 

Whizz of words

 

MICHEL Pearce, of Morningside, notes that according to Business Report last week, Maritzburg-born physics whizzkid Sandile Ngcobo – who in his PhD research made a stunning breakthrough in laser technology – has developed a "two-micron, high-power, diode-pumped thulium yttrium lithium fluoride slab laser."

"I wonder," she asks. "Wouldn't Sandile fit right in at Llanafairpwllgwyngyllgogerchwyrndrobwyll-llantysilliogogogoch?" (a place in Wales mentioned in this column the same day).

Poaching scourge

A PICTURE has emerged of the typical driver of the rhino-poaching scourge: a high-flying, nouveau riche, middle-aged Vietnamese businessman who is willing to pay almost any price for rhino horn as a flashy symbol of success and status.

Oddly enough, the study by the World Wide Fund for Nature makes no mention of rhino horn's supposed properties in the promotion of sexual potency. Nor does author Julian Rademeyer (who wrote Killing for Profit) in his preface to Ian Player's The White Rhino Saga (Jonathan Ball), which has just been republished, 40 years after it first appeared.

Rademeyer says rhino horn has become the "Ferrari factor" in Vietnamese society. It is a party drug that costs more than cocaine; it is used as a hangover cure; and it is ground into rice wine to be "the drink of millionaires". This is curious because rhino horn actually has much the same chemical/medicinal properties as human toenails.

Is it not depressing that the threatened extinction of rhino as a species should be driven by such a monumental delusion?

But the threat is there and it is real. The White Rhino Saga celebrated the success of a small band of conservationists, led by Ian Player, in the face of enormous hostility by the Nationalist central government of the day and the ranching and farming lobbies that sought to have the Zululand reserves deproclaimed. Player and his group were otherwise bogged down by widespread public apathy.

Player and the Natal Parks Board turned that around. Conservancies and game ranches flourish all over the province. The ethos of conservation flourishes. It was success with the white rhino that put things on track.

But the poaching threat has since emerged. This new edition is timely, following soon after publication (also by Jonathan Ball) of Ian Player's biography, Into the River of Life (in which I have to declare an interest – I wrote it).

The game is on – a luta continhua!

 

Tailpiece

 

 

"It's my 85th birthday. The wife gave me an SUV."
"An SUV? Wow, amazing! What a great gift!"
"Yup … socks, underwear, Viagra …"

 

Last word

A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject.

Winston Churchill

 

The Idler, Friday, September 20, 2013

This rural idyll

THE ATMOSPHERE of the Southern Districts came to Durban this week – that sense of space, slightly rarified air in the foothills of the Drakensberg and hot sunshine alternating with biting cold.

It was at the weekly St Clement's soiree and Tod Collins, a veterinary surgeon in Underberg, was reading from – and discussing – his collection of short stories, 'Til The Cows Come Home (Triple Creek Publishing), which wonderfully captures the texture of life in the Southern Districts and the adjacent Midlands, as well as the drama of excursions into the mountains.

The stories are set mainly in the daily rounds of a country vet, his interaction with the commercial farming community, the local Zulu and Sotho traditional communities and also with the newcomers, the wealthy urban gentry who have set up second homes in the district.

The tales are charming and unpretentious, often hilarious. I especially like the one where Tod was hauled out of bed late one night, after a very hard day with cattle, to attend to the sealyham terrier of one of the gentry.

After going to bed that night – and before being called out – Tod's wife had wakened him and insisted he put on his lip ice (that rarified air and scorching sun) which he'd forgotten to do. He fumbled for it in the bathroom and put it on in the dark.

Then the call-out. The sealyham owner – previously cordial – seemed strangely frosty and aloof as Tod went about fixing up the dog, which had taken a knock from his owner's own car..

Tod eventually got back to bed. When he looked in the mirror next morning, he could have been Tickey the Clown. He had smeared his lips with his wife's lipstick. That explained the sealyham owner's attitude. Strange fellows, these vets. You never know what they get up to after hours.

Kindness

NO NAMES, no packdrill. Anyone who grew up in the Midlands or has spent time in the Southern Districts will recognise plenty of names in the Collins stories. Two family names that feature in the book recall another incident at Himeville, the next village on from Underberg.

It was a bitterly cold night. These two fellows, of well-known families, were in the bar of the Himeville Arms, sitting by the fire and keeping out the cold some more with a bit of XXX. On the back of their truck outside was a flock of sheep.

Said one of the fellows: "Those sheep must be getting cold."

Said the other: "Yes, I think they need to be brought in to sit by the fire."

Firelight danced on the walls of the very snug lounge of the Himeville Arms. Various old dears were on the sofas and easy chairs, playing rummy, reading magazines and doing the crosswords. The old geezers were mainly snoring gently and unobtrusively in front of the fire.

Then the lounge doors flung open and in stampeded a flock of sheep. They made a delighted baa-ing as they ran about the place, jumping over the sofas and the old dears. Quite a commotion ensued. Once they're in a place, sheep don't like to leave.

The two fellows got barred for six months. In vain did they protest that they were only being kind to animals on a bitterly cold night. A hard-hearted lot those folk are at the Himeville Arms.

 

Frosty Harry

BRITAIN'S Prince Harry has spent the night in a giant freezer that simulates the conditions he will face when he treks to the South Pole later this year.

The Prince and companions, who will represent the charity, Walking With The Wounded, were subjected to temperatures of minus 35 degrees Celsius, and gales of wind, in a specially constructed cold chamber in Warwickshire.

But does Harry need this acclimatisation? Minus 35 degrees Celsius must be nothing compared with the frostiness he would have encountered at Buckingham Palace after those pictures emerged of him  romping naked with girls in Las Vegas after a game of "strip pool".

 

 

Tailpiece

THIS author left his manuscript for a blockbuster book on the American Civil War out on the porch. One gust and it was Gone With The Wind.

Last word

Always get married early in the morning. That way, if it doesn't work out, you haven't wasted a whole day.

Mickey Rooney

 

The Idler, Thursday, September 18, 2013

Rugby Hall of Fame

REFEREE Romain Poite joins Bryce Lawrence in the Rugby Hall of Fame. The IRB has cleared Bismarck du Plessis of his red card. But has anyone on the IRB given thought to amending the red card system?

You're always going to get duff refereeing decisions. You really can't blame the ref for a bad decision in the heat of the moment, any more than you often can't blame the player for a rash, split-second action. But should a duff decision be allowed to have such enormous consequences?

Last Saturday a world-wide rugby audience were on the edge of their seats for the clash between the Springboks and the All Blacks. It was a thrilling if somewhat error-strewn encounter. Then it suddenly ended with Du Plessis being red-carded on what amounted to a technicality. The contest was over, the spectacle gone. It became a grim, one-sided struggle, the outcome never in doubt.

People paid good money for tickets to Eden Park. People bought air tickets from South Africa and all over the world. The sponsors and the TV networks coughed up a fortune. And all for this fiasco?

Red-card the player by all means. You can argue afterwards about whether it was justified. But should the match then be put on the scrapheap? Why not let the red-carded player be replaced from the bench so the match can continue as an even contest?

This is no argument for condoning illegal play. In this professional era it ought to be possible to make the financial consequences of a red card so severe – fines, suspension – that deliberate illegal play would not be an option.

This isn't Pofadder versus Klipfontein, it's rugby on a world stage. The show must go on.

Kiwi phone-in

THAT tackle by Du Plessis on Dan Carter – I'm told a New Zealand radio station held a phone-in and Kiwi fans said it was not only perfectly legal, it was the best tackle they'd ever seen.

Ja, tog.

Ancient Rome

SOME say rugby has become a gladiatorial contest. World-wide TV has made it an equivalent, in a gigantic scale, of the Coliseum in ancient Rome.

But who ever heard of the Romans red-carding the lions for playing dirty against the Christians? The show went on.

Get with it!

STILL with rugby, is it not time Sanzar found a more arresting and evocative name for the southern hemisphere international competition? "The Rugby Championship" sounds like something suggested by Aunt Ermintrude as she knits by the fireside.

What would be wrong with "Four Nations"? Rugby fans are numerate as well as literate and would know the difference between the Four Nations and the Six Nations.

Presidential zebras

HELP – I'm seeing stripes in front of my eyes! Here's more on zebras being used as draught animals in the early days.

Muriel Maple, of Hilton, outside Maritzburg, used to live in Kroonstad and was once given a photographic negative on glass which showed the President of the Orange Free State in a cart being drawn by zebras and donkeys.

It came from an old-timer and had been taken during the Anglo/Boer War when the Boer capital was moved to Kroonstad after Bloemfontein fell to the British. She had it for years but has unfortunately now mislaid it in a series of moves about the country.

She says she was always under the impression the photograph had been of President Brand – but it must surely have been President Steyn because Brand died before the war.

No matter. The point is that zebras were being used at high level in the Free State.

Crown City

KROONSTAD translates as "Crown City." It seems an unlikely name for a place in the Free State and I always imagined it came from the surname Kroon, which is fairly common.

But it turns out the town is actually named after a horse named Kroon, that drowned at a drift in the nearby river.

Remember where you read it first!

Memory foam

OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties: "I bought a memory foam mattress, but it had Alzheimer's."

Tailpiece

"So how's your new phone?"

"Mostly great but it's got some weird pre-installed apps. This one makes my husband look fat and ugly. It's called 'Camera'."

Last word

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.

Robert Frost