The Idler, Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Stink in San Diego

 

THE San Diego city authorities are bringing out the sniffer dogs. The cabbies in that Californian city are some of them apparently a bit ripe under the armpits.

 

The regulations allow taxi inspectors to penalise cabbies who pong a bit and order them to bath and change before picking up another fare.

 

The drivers are up in arms over this intrusion on their personal hygiene arrangements, according to a news report, and if "up in arms" is taken literally, the pong could get even worse. Their union describes it as demeaning, reeking of prejudice and fuelling a stereotype.

 

But the San Diego airport authority, which conducts the tests, says: "Taxi drivers are often the first impression that travellers receive when arriving in San Diego and we want to encourage a positive experience."

 

How fragrant or otherwise are Durban's taxi drivers? People talk about them endlessly for the way they drive, but this seems a question that has not come up before. Should the metro cops take to flagging them down and sniffing their armpits?

 

Perhaps not. It could cause unrest.

 

Language

 

"INTOMBI yakithi uphatha ukhamba …" (The girl from our place is carrying a clay pot …) Well, that introductory line from one of the Zulu textbooks has stuck, so there has to be merit in this plan to introduce Zulu as a subject in more and more KZN schools. Back in those days it was a rarity.

Introduction to a language is an introduction to a culture and a value system. It can only be healthy. A word of warning though - it should never be forced. A language enforced becomes a language resented. The kids need to start learning Zulu gladly, from an early age.

And while they're about it, the education authorities need to introduce French as a subject. This is the language of Central and most of West Africa. Also, we need to be able to understand the car guards.

 

Fore!

A QUESTIONAIRE comes this way, leading to a profound philosophical point. It takes us back to America in 1923 and asks who was:

·         President of the largest steel company?

·         President of the largest gas company?

·         President of the New York Stock Exchange?

·         The greatest wheat speculator?

·         The Great Bear of Wall Street?

These were considered some of the world's most successful men of their day. Now, 91 years later, what ultimately became of them?

·         The president of the largest steel company, Charles Schwab, died a pauper.

·         The president of the largest gas company, Edward Hopson, went insane.

·         The president of the New York Stock Exchange, Richard Whitney, was released from prison to die at home.

·         The greatest wheat speculator, Arthur Cooger, died abroad, penniless.

·         The Great Bear of Wall Street, Cosabee Livermore, committed suicide.

But in that same year, 1923, the PGA Champion and the winner of the US Open was Gene Sarazen.

 

What became of him? He played golf until he was 92 and died in 1999 at the age of 95. He was financially secure at the time of his death.

Moral: Nuts to work – play golf!

 

Test case THE traffic cops in Bloemfontein are getting tough. An apparently genuine ticket doing the rounds on the internet shows that businessman Chris Snyman was flagged down for the offence of: "Drove motor vehicle while driving." I hope he fights it in court. This is one to take all the way to the Supreme Court of Appeal and the Constitutional Court. Barry Roux should be available by then. Decaf OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties: "Decaffeinated coffee is like a hooker who wants only to cuddle." Tailpiece IT'S the craps table in the casino. An attractive, well-stacked blonde comes in and puts down a R20 000 bet on a single roll of the dice. "I hope you don't mind but I feel much luckier when I'm bottomless." With that she strips naked from the waist down and rolls the dice yelling: "Momma needs a new pair of pants!" The dice fall and she jumps in the air. "Yes! I win! I win!" She scoops up her winnings and leaves. First croupier: "What did she roll anyway?" Second croupier: "Don't know. I thought you were watching the dice."   Last word Sometimes I get the feeling the whole world is against me, but deep down I know that's not true. Some smaller countries are neutral. Robert Orben

The Idler, Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Electroencephalogry

IN A WORLD first, researchers have achieved brain-to-brain transmission of information between humans. They used a brain-computer interface to transmit the thoughts of an individual in India 8 000 km to a group of three in France, using the internet.

The process is known as electroencephalogry.

This is no doubt a stunning advance. Yet it still fails to explain a phenomenon that has been puzzling us down the ages.

How is it that a woman is able to know what a man is thinking? And why is the process not two-way? A man can be going about his household chores and thinking quite innocently about the upper rigging of the new barmaid down at the local – when she picks it up.

He has no idea whatever of what is brewing in her mind, when suddenly – Whammo! – she lands a right hook.

It's uncanny. It's been happening down the ages. Maybe electroencephalogry will get us closer to the answer.

 

Mean one

THE fossil of a fearsome 20-ton cross between a Tyrannosaurus-rex, a crocodile and a whale has been found in the Moroccan Sahara, scientists describing it as "like an alien from outer space".

The 16m amphibious dinosaur, Spinosaurus, had sharp, slanted teeth and a massive snout. It preyed on sharks.

Yep, the Griquas stop at nothing in who they recruit for the Currie Cup.

Horror show

IT WAS supposed to be a morning news show but it could have been a horror movie as a bat started flittering about the heads of the TV news anchors on Good Morning Tennessee during a live broadcast, interfering with hairdos.

The presenters were totally spooked until somebody caught the bat and took it outside and released it into woodland.

"This is the news, read by Count Dracula …"

Sleeping Beauty

BURGLARY can be an exhausting business. A thief came in through the kitchen window of a home in Sarasota, Florida, in the US. He grabbed a whole bagful of jewellery in a bedroom.

But then he couldn't resist taking a quick nap on the bed. He was still there when a cleaner came in. He was still snoring away when the police arrived and took photographs of him lying with the swag still beside him. Eventually they had to shake him awake.

Following this rude interruption of his beauty sleep, he was put in the clink and charged with burglary. The bunk in the cell is probably nothing like as comfortable as the bed they found him on.

 

Messages

SOME people haven't heard of e-mail. They still keep putting messages in bottles, throwing them into the sea or into rivers running to the sea, and looking for other bottles containing messages.

Cries for help, hopes and dreams and greetings from one country to another have all been cast into the water for someone else to find.

The BBC had a feature on it. A woman named Nicola White found her first message in a bottle by chance in the River Thames in 2011. She then started hunting for them and has gone on to find more than 30.

The messages have included an appeal for a job, declarations of love and gems of wisdom.

Nicola also sends her own messages in bottles. Could it have been she who sent that message found in a bottle floating in the Tugela the other day near its confluence with the Nsuze, in the Nkandla district?

"Pay back the money!" the message read. Whatever could Nicola mean?

 

Tailpiece

Old lady (on telephone): "Where's my Sunday paper?"

Circulation department clerk: "Ma'am, today is Saturday. Your Sunday paper will be delivered on SUNDAY."

Old lady (after a pause): "Well I'll be darned … that explains why there was nobody at church either."

Last word

A committee can make a decision that is dumber than any of its members.

David Coblitz

The Idler, Monday, September 15, 2014

Characters of Dundee

 

A SNIPPET from the Scottish referendum campaign – Adam Boulton was in Dundee testing the water for Sky News. He mentioned that Dundee is where the Beano and Dandy comic are published, read by schoolboys all over the English-speaking world.

 

As a Dundonian myself – Dundee, Northern Natal – I took note.

 

Adam was standing beside a bronze statue in the city square of Desperate Dan, the Dandy's cow pie man who is possessed of such immense strength. Dundee also has a Bash Street, though it's not clear whether it's named after the Beano feature, The Bash Street Kids, or whether it was always there and the feature was named after the street.

 

Ah yes, the Bash Street Kids. Smiffy "who always gets things wrong" and wears a vest pulled up to just beneath his nostrils. Other Beano/Dandy characters: Dennis the Menace, Minnie the Minx and Keyhole Kate.

 

Lovely stuff. In days of yore there was great angst if the Union Castle mailboat was delayed by bad weather and the weekly Beano and Dandy were a day or two late.

 

Adam consulted the local newspaper, the Courier, for referendum news. And, of course, our Dundee also has a newspaper – the Courier. Connections, connections.

 

The Dandy has another character perhaps with relevance to the referendum. Certain Scots look askance at Prime Minister David Cameron's old Etonian and Tory affiliations. Step forward, Lord Snooty!

 

Gurkhas

 

THE Mercury gets quoted everywhere. Last Friday we had a Tailpiece in which a wealthy gent in London gives a large donation to a fellow with a sign: "Falklands War veteran – please help"

 

The fellow replies: "Muchas gracias, senor!"

 

It tickled local historian and writer Peter Quantrill (a former Gurkha Regiment officer), who has sent it on to Brigadier David Morgan in Britain.

 

"He commanded the 1/7^th Gurkhas in the Falklands and is going to use it in his speech at the 7^th Gurkha Reunion in London on September 20."

 

Muchas gracias, Pedro!

 

 

Mayhem

 

TONY Ford, a veteran prop forward in club rugby, takes up the issue of red and yellow cards and says the main need is for the administrators to take control of the game. The head and the neck should be absolutely verboten, no-go tackle areas.

 

"Not so long ago a lock playing for Western Province against the Bulls in an Under 21 game had his neck broken in a maul and will never be the same again, let alone play rugby.

 

"This incident has been shown in slow-motion replay and a Bulls lock clearly drives into the trapped Province player with a shoulder to the head, followed by the other Bulls lock pulling the Province player backwards by the neck out of the maul and on to the turf.

 

"To the best of my knowledge the only sanction was a suspension for the Bulls lock who pulled the Province lock out by the neck. I consider this to be a cowardly assault on a man who could not defend himself, as he was trapped in the maul.

 

"I watched Province play the Kings and witnessed a Province loose forward drive his shoulder into the face of a Kings loose forward, who was binding on the side of the ruck and having no influence on play.

 

"The Province player was yellow carded and the Kings player left the field bleeding profusely from the face. Shortly thereafter a Province lock scragged the opposing scrumhalf by flinging him around and over by the collar of his jersey in a dangerous act considering the size difference between the two men.

 

"This same lock was declared 'Man of the match'.

 

"In almost every game we see today there is an incident of a high or dangerous tackle to the neck area of a player."

 

"All this is a glaring failure of the rugby authorities to control the game. You are safer in a cage fight today than on a rugby field."

 

 

Tailpiece

President Zuma gets off the helicopter at the Union Buildings, carrying a piglet under each arm.

The chief security officer snaps to attention, salutes and says: "Nice pigs, sir."

Zuma replies: "These are not just any old pigs. These are authentic Limpopo razorback hogs. I got them for two members of the cabinet."

The chief security officer again snaps to attention and salutes: "Excellent swap, sir."

Last word

To err is human; to forgive, infrequent.

Franklin P Adams

The Idler, Friday, September 12, 2014

Getting there by degrees   IT SEEMS a couple of the top jobs at the SABC are soon going to be up for grabs. Some sort of bother over faked qualifications, I gather.   Hmmm. The money's good and it's not exactly a hard act to follow. Worth a try. They say Pallo's not going for it.   But you don't want to swamp them with certificates, just send in enough to show you've got what it takes, that you're a rounded, balanced individual.   That PhD from Harvard on "Rawls and the Original Position" – that's a cracker in terms of justification of liberal democracy, but it does lend itself to lewd misinterpretation; it also would need to be balanced out by the doctorate from Moscow (1979) on "Capitalist-imperialism and the bloody assassination of the working classes". The SABC is strictly impartial, you see, plays it down the middle.   The chiropractic diploma? Yes, that shows one is an all-rounder. And the gals in the office at Auckland Park might need a bit of massaging about the shoulders after being hunched in front of a computer screen all day. What about the certificate in Latin-American dancing, specialising in the Salsa and the Samba? Yes, the SABC is heavily into culture.   The degree in veterinary science from Onderstepoort? Yes, a man has to show he's into the sciences. Okay, just one more, a real heavyweight intellectual clincher. How about this PhD from London – "The Icelandic Sagas as echoed in modern advertising jingles." Yes, that'll do nicely. Don't swamp 'em.   Dammit! What's this? They want my matric certificate? Last time I saw that it was lining the breadbin …er, I think. Or was that my teacher's diploma? Now they've got me foxed. I can quite see how these difficulties with qualifications arise.   Fight it   OH BOY, the All Blacks tomorrow. The only glimmer really is that Argentina put up a pretty decent showing against them, not reflected by the scoreline.   Can we cure ourselves of this kicking disease? The aimless punts that hand possession to the world's best counter-attackers? Will Andre Pollard and Willie le Roux be turned loose?   We have to fight the temptation to sleep late and catch the replay only if it warrants.     Bu-z-z-z!   MORE on our angrily buzzing friends. Earlier this week we discussed a giant wasps' nest that was found in a bedroom in England; also a hornets' nest that once established itself in my golf bag.   Now more from England. A South African girl and her flatmate had to be rescued by the fire brigade from an upstairs room in Maidenhead, Berkshire, after a massive hornets' nest came crashing through the ceiling into the hallway.   Caroline Muller, formerly of Vanderbylpark, Gauteng, and her flatmate rushed to the bedroom and slammed the door shut, while the hornets buzzed angrily through the rest of the house.   They telephoned the emergency services and eventually escaped down a fire engine ladder. They're staying with friends while pest exterminators deal with the hornets.   It seems England is being plagued by large, yellow-hooped hornets that have arrived from the Far East and are thriving in the current hot summer.   Wonks win   READER Brian von Sorgenfrei sympathises with the way my mind is being boggled by my new computer (as described earlier this week) and says he presumes my use of the word "program" instead of "programme" was caused by the computer itself, overriding my "normally impeccable" English spelling.   Alas, Brian, not so. This is one area where the Yanks and the digital wonks have won. When a programme enters a computer it becomes a program. That is so even in the normally impeccable style guide of this newspaper.   I have now discovered four people who have had inflicted on them the very same program, which they find close to impossible to use. The wonks really have over-reached themselves this time.

Tailpiece

THIS City buffer is being driven in his Rolls-Royce along the Strand, in London. He spots a ragged figure sitting leaning back on a lamp post, a sign round his neck reading: "Falklands War veteran – please help."

He orders the chauffeur to stop. He gets out, takes out his wallet and gives the fellow £500.

"I also was in the army once. We old soldiers must stick together."

"Muchas gracias, senor!"

 

Last word

Television enables you to be entertained in your home by people you wouldn't have in your home.

David Frost

The Idler, Thursday, September 11, 2014

Down memory lane

A BLAST from the past. Francis and Marie Sauzier, of Glenhills, were moving house when, in the clutter, they discovered an old Idler's column dated January 25, 1967, which they enjoyed so much that Francis cut it out.

That's 47 years ago, a time when the Idler did not sign by name and the column was sub-headed: "Down our lane". It must have been written either by Jack Shepherd-Smith, who went on to become editor of Scope magazine and other publications, or Esmond Caro, who took over for a while before becoming a player in the real estate business.

It would have been shortly before John Vigor – who was the first to sign by name – took up the Idler's quill. (Jack and Esmond are still around in Durban – John is in the US).

What was the Idler on about in those days? First of all, I like the Tailpiece and have repeated it today. The column kicks off with Jack (or Esmond) interviewing a scientist who has discovered a 104^th element – WOMAN.

Symbol: Woe.

Atomic weight: About 100-200lb.

Occurrence: Seldom in free state; usually associated with men.

Physical properties: Usually rounded in form. Boils at absolutely no temperature and freezes at any moment. Mild when properly treated but very bitter if not used well.

Chemical properties: Highly attractive. Possesses great affinity for gold, silver and precious stones. Violent spontaneous reaction when left alone. Turns green when placed beside a better-looking specimen. Ages rapidly …

Er, hold on. That was 1967. You were allowed to say this kind of thing in those days. Not today. I'd better stop now, I know one or two damsels who would consider this stuff sexist and would proceed to box my ears.

Times have changed. But perhaps not that much. Maybe that's why the Idler didn't sign his name in those days.

Wtmb

JACK Shepherd-Smith it was who almost caused a civil war in this province. He wrote a paragraph: "Last week they held a beauty competition in Ladysmith. Nobody won."

It caused uproar in the town. The council convened a special meeting and passed a motion of censure on The Mercury while the rest of the province rocked with laughter.

A group of Ladysmith toughs tried to kidnap Jack. A colleague was pulled up at a red traffic light in Ladysmith, driving a signwritten Mercury car, when a fellow on foot slapped at the bodywork the length of the car then yelled in at the window: "Are you from Durban? Where the hell's that?"

Yes, feelings ran high. They were just beginning to subside when Jack (or it might have been his successor, Esmond) wrote another paragraph: "They held a Miss Lucky Legs contest in Ladysmith last week. It was won by the billiard table in the Royal Hotel."

Whoof! Petrol on the flames.

John Vigor tried to calm things down by following any mention of Ladysmith with "(wtmb)" – wherever that might be.

As a pacifist by nature, I steer clear of the controversy. In fact so relaxed has the relationship become that I've been invited by the Ladysmith Women's Institute to present the prizes at their next Bokdrolspoeg Cultural Evening. (Bokdrolspoeg involves taking a mouthful of mampoer then spitting a buck dropping - preferably kudu - as hard and as far as you can). Some of those Ladysmith lasses are prodigious with the bokdrol.

Growing old

A MOST arresting e-mail comes this way. It's illustrated by a lakeside scene as evening falls, a walkway reaching out over the water. It's headed "Walk with me while I age."

It has an introduction: "I hope this poem has the same effect on you as it did on me – then my forwarding it will be worth the effort. Walk with me by the water – worth the read … a beautiful poem about growing older."

Then 22 blank lines.

Then: "Dammit! I forgot the words!"

Philosophy

OVERHEARD in the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties: "Why should you take riding classes before studying philosophy? You can't put Descartes before the horse."

Tailpiece (from 1967)

 

"HAVE ye lost somethin' then, laddie?"

"Aye, I've dropped ma penny doon this drain."

"Och, never mind then, never mind. Here's a match to help ye look for it."

 

Last word

A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.

Mark Twain

The Idler, Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Man U didn't lose

 

LAST weekend was not great for rugby fans. The Boks blew it and so did the Sharks. But we did win the cricket in Zimbabwe and Bafana Bafana beat Sudan.

 

And, as a Yorkshireman pointed out in the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties the other evening, at least Manchester United didn't lose – they didn't play.

 

Ee ba goom! These Yorkshire folk can be cruel.

 

Cards

 

MEANWHILE, Stan Sharratt agrees that referees should not be allowed to ruin a rugby match by sending off players.

 

"Rugby is played by two teams consisting of 15 players in each team. Any change to this number ruins the entertainment spectacle.

"I offer the following solution: A yellow card penalty requires a player to be sent off. So be it. But he must then be replaced by a player off the bench (the coach's selection) for the 10 minutes, and the two players will then swap.

 

"Why should a yellow card be a double penalty? The penalty kick will be taken.

 

"A red card penalty requires a player to be sent off for the remainder of the game. But then his place should be taken by someone from the bench for the remainder of the game, with the bench reduced by one so the coach will have less options to change players later in the game. The penalty kick will be taken. Citing can follow if necessary.

 

"I believe Naas Botha is also in favour of keeping 30 players on the field."

 

Absolutely. This sending off of players is destructive of the modern game where competition is so intense and matters are generally so evenly balanced. It is also redolent of a bygone age when bounders, rotters and cads were sent for an early shower for unsporting behaviour, such as seizing of the family jewels or flatulence in the scrum.

 

Rifle saga

 

THIS week's Tailpiece about the shoe repairs that took 11 years plus a few days reminds Gray Braatvedt of the saga of his army rifle in the days of the call-up.

 

"Shortly after reporting for my two-year stint in the army we were issued our well-used R1 rifles. On close inspection back in the barracks I noticed a curve in the barrel so I returned it to the Quartermaster's stores.

 

"Instead of issuing me with a replacement they took it in to be repaired and issued me with a slip. I protected that slip with my life.

 

"Every Monday morning I would go to the Quartermaster's stores and check if it had returned but it was never there. The 200m trek across to the stores and back would take me about two hours, just about the time the rest were on the parade ground.

 

"I went through the whole of basics without ever having to clean and present a rifle for inspection or carry one while marching. It even got to the stage where I had to iron the slip and set it out neatly on my bed for inspection.

 

"Well into second phase training we were issued with R4 rifles and it was then that my R1 was found at the very bottom of a pile at the back of the gun safe where a tiffie had thrown it the first day I handed it back, and it was never sent for repair.

 

"I also got through the whole of basics without a name tag because they could never spell my name properly and I refused to wear Braadvelt, Broadvet or any other variant they tried."

 

An illustrious military career, to be sure.

Not cricket

 

TWITCHER Mike Oldfield points out that the bird pictured on Monday eating a cricket on the pitch during the one-day international between South Africa and Australia was not a "white stork", as Associated Press maintained. It was a cattle egret.

 

"Nice picture though," he says.

 

Reader JP Sharrock echoes him: "It appears more likely to be an egret."

 

Says Zac Graham: "Calling an egret a stork catching a cricket at the cricket is just not cricket."

 

I must say I also wondered. I thought it might be a crow that had fallen in a bucket of whitewash.

 

 

Tailpiece

 

"Hi, honey, I'm home."

"I'm not talking to you."

"Oh … okay."

"Don't you want to know why?"

"No dear, I respect and trust your decision."

 

Last word

 

A perpetual holiday is a good working definition of hell.

George Bernard Shaw