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The Whipping Boy

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Author Profile

Name:
Ben Trovato


Biography

Ben Trovato has written 8 books but you wouldn't think so if you had to see his living conditions. He has never won an award. He wants people to  know his column is meant to be funny and they should stop with the death threats.


Latest Columns

Throw 'em a chunk

WHITE South Africans, much like white sharks, are one of the most misunderstood animals on the planet. They have a reputation for unpredictable behaviour and non-Caucasians are often afraid to venture into their territory for fear of being attacked.

We white people are not here to instil an appreciation of art

BY the time you read this I'll be on the road somewhere between Pietermaritzburg and Durban. Yes, indeed. I am running in the Comrades Marathon. My first ever.

It's time to wheel out the guillotine and stop this game of Naughties and crosses

Stoning could also work, although Murray might have been stoned before

All hot and bothered

Super-sleuth's raunchy close-ups of hot, swollen parts offer me my first encounter with auto eroticism

Scandal of missing medal

No national honours for me despite thinking very hard about being brave

Say 'baa baa' to fat-free sheep

Trust the Chinese to come up with a preventative to cardiac arrest

For my birthday, I'd love a bit of tail

It's fine if it's got stripes on it - and if it doesn't bite the hand that strokes it, I won't call it names

Journey to the centre of the erf

I HAVE been doing a fierce amount of travelling between Cape Town and Durban of late. The East Coast is hungry for crystal meth and perlemoen while the West Coast is crying out for marijuana and vindaloo. It's a lucrative trade if you don't mind being seen behind the wheel of a bakkie. Personally, I can do without that kind of stigma.

United the ANC stands, or does it?

When a big HOWEVER blurs the information in the media

Bitter at the porky

Lies and misery fill the void left by the murder of my trusty jalopy

Ready to lie, cheat, steal

Application for the position of CEO of the National Prosecuting Authority

Going the wrong way

My wife wasn't interested in the type of breasts smothered in tasty sauces either

Big ups on putting strike down

An open letter to the omnipotent being who owns Impala Platinum

Doing nothing doesn’t mean you’re dead

I WAS once told of a woman whose husband collapsed after suffering a heart attack at a cocktail party in one of the affluent suburbs of Cape Town.

At last someone is drawing the line against Bart and Barbie

First it was the Great Satan, now Iran is taking on the godless ranks of toyland and TV

Wingéd Cupid's on his way - armed and dangerous

BRENDA said she wants me to take her out on Valentine's Day.

Zopax Brangelina and my middle-seat mania

KULULA is generally my airline of choice because the staff who do their in-flight announcements make light of the fact that everyone on board could die in a giant fireball at any moment.

New pier review will make Africa change. Or not

THE ANC says it is pleased with the appointment of its chairperson, Baleka Mbete, to the African Union's African Peer Review Mechanism panel.

So you're looking for a job?

I AM loath to help you little bastards who have just busted out of school, because eventually one of you will stab me in the back.

My murder capital

'MURDER is a social contact crime that often occurs between people who know one another such as relatives, friends, acquaintances, colleagues and neighbours." This reassuring nugget of information emerged in a study released this week.

Thank you for saving us from hairy-palmed depravity

An Open Letter to the Independent Communications Authority of SA

Spineless sheeple deserve to be fleeced

WITH the podium awash in cake and catharsis, deputy president Kgalema Motlanthe raised his glass and proposed a toast. "The leaders will now enjoy the champagne, and of course they do so on your behalf through their lips." Later, the leadership drove off in luxury cars on behalf of those who had no transport and stayed in expensive hotels on behalf of those who lived in shacks. Welcome to the year of living vicariously.

Butchery amid the Babbling Waters

An Open Letter to 'Reverend' Kemo Waters

Party animals bring fun to Bloem

ANO-FLIES zone has been declared around Bloemfontein this weekend. President Zuma believes flies were brought over by the missionaries and used as weapons of mass distraction. While the Africans were waving the flies away, the religious robber barons moved in and took their land, their cattle and their more agreeable-looking daughters.

I have seen the future

My tequila tells me the interesting stuff is yet to come

Yo Dog Breath, leave our rhinos alone

GOOD morning, Vietnam! Now that the pleasantries are over, could I ask you to please stop shnarfing our rhino horn in the deluded belief that it cures hangovers. It does nothing of the sort, you idiots. If it did, I would be the first to hoover up a gram every morning. Do you think the pharmaceutical companies would let a miracle cure slip by purely on ethical grounds? Please. These companies have the moral backbone of a box jellyfish.

Eat dirt and chew algae for a merry morning after

MEN in white coats tell us that hangovers are caused by the excessive intake of alcohol. They would have us believe the first step towards avoiding a hangover lies in limiting the amount you drink. This does little to help the person battling to survive a hangover registering 17 on the open-ended Retchter scale.

O holy night, a mortar's loudly whining

OH, to be in Bethlehem on this auspicious day. To wake to the sound of church bells and the distant crump of mortars landing in Beersheba.

Two steps forward, all you impuppies

I HAVE often wondered who are the real snitches of the dog underworld. The informants. The impimpis and the impuppies. The dogs that feign loyalty and then turn on you when you least expect it.

Life's a journey. So's lunch

PEOPLE making holiday at the coast should be aware of dangers. Hazards range from getting caught in a faction fight between braai fork-wielding clans from the Tugela Valley to getting stomach cramps while swimming.

A merry festive toy store, where brave men fear to tread

IUSUALLY do my Christmas shopping on the 24th but Brenda said she would punch a new mouth in my head if I didn't get her a proper gift this year. Last year I gave her a very valuable fossilised dinosaur tooth. A few days later she was digging a trench at the bottom of the garden - it might have been a grave - when she came across a whole bunch of them. I told her it must be where old Tyrannosaurus Rexes went to die 50 billion years ago. "We're rich!" I shouted. She said it looked very much like a pile of builder's rubble. I said many archeologists had made that mistake.

Home through heart of darkness

SO, wrapping up the tortuous trilogy that constitutes my vacation: the Land Rover broke down again. This time in J-Bay. I think the mechanic said something about a shattered cone in the shock. I couldn't be sure. Very few people speak coherent English in Jeffreys van der Bay these days. Which is not to say they're unfriendly. They do, however, have some explaining to do. Like why, above a sign saying "dune restoration project", they are allowed to build embolism-inducing concrete monstrosities on top of the dunes, desecrating the aesthetic value of one of the world's most famous surfing spots. Insensitive philistines. How very dare they.

Young, free and bipolar

An open letter to Julius Malema

On Donder, on Bliksem

The red-nosed among us are going to have to try a lot harder if SA is to take top honours on this global list

Show me the way home, bru ...

Cassava-based booze promises to tap a new market

Wonders never cease to clutter up the planet

At least our candidate for the new list of nature's finest is patrolled by armed guards

Read the papers

After a bit of news consumption, the only way to forget the horror is by contemplating one's wardrobe

Get with the programme, KZN

Besides, nobody wants to see our Very Important People exposed on the street

Yu are not the boss of us, China - or at least, not yet

The people's republic might want to hold off until the ANC proves just how cheap it holds South Africa

Don't mess with my brew, Sbu

Professional dipsomaniacs, whose driving skills improve with alcohol, should decide whether the limit stays or is scrapped

More cells than brains

My cellphone rang the other day. This is a rare occurrence on its own. Nobody ever calls me, because they don't know who I am, nor do they have my number.

Spoiling it for everyone

My hero for the week is Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini. At the Reed Dance in Nongoma last weekend, he had a few words for the rhino poachers among us. "I will personally hunt you down and deal with you accordingly if you carry on with this unbecoming behaviour."

Touch paws - and up the Bokke!

Now if only we could get rid of the referees

I get Juju's grand plan - and it's a riot

I have been intrigued by many things this week, one of which was the headline "JSC to grill Mogoeng".

This is a revolution, dammit

I HAVE never seen such a shouty bunch as those Libyans. Always with the fists in the air and the nonstop chanting and yelling.

Well, there goes the cushy ward

Like everyone else in this fine country, I am reluctant to get off my fat ass and take an active interest in anything unless I can drink it, drive it, make money from it or have sex with it.

Put some man in the mouse

I THOUGHT senile dementia had come early to Brenda when, out of the blue, she suggested we go and look for Wales. It's best to humour the prematurely mad, so I told her it's in the same place it always is - clinging grimly to the side of England like a giant misshapen tumour. "Not Wales, you idiot," she said. "Whales."

You make me reel like a natural woman

What is it with Germans and the human body? If they're not trying to mutate it, they're trying to eat it. I suppose we should be grateful that lovable rogues like Dr Josef Mengele and Armin Meiwes don't come along all that often.

The darkies are coming

In case you're running low, there are hundreds of bottles of vodka lying on the pavement outside the former Amy Winehouse's gaff in the London borough of Camden.

Shrien will feel right at home

I was juggling with three quarts the other day when one got away from me and went through the lounge window. I could hear Brenda thumping up the stairs, shouting, "What the hell have you done now?" In a flash, I mussed up my hair, put my jacket on inside out, adopted a 1000-metre stare and stood there, swaying on my feet.

Time to let the lions loose at Greyville

I HAVE never seen the point of horses. They are little more than very tall dogs with long noses. But if you dare mention it in front of them, they will bite your face off and then kick you to death. They don't care if there are witnesses either. I have never seen such arrogance.

Squirrel uses his McNut to cash in

Most people, when they say they are popping out to get McDonald's, come home with a couple of cheeseburgers. But not Shanduka chairman Squirrel Ramaphosa. Oh, no. He comes home with the entire chain. Good grief. How badly does he want free burgers that he has to become commander-in-chief of all 153 outlets?

Doing it for me

WHEN I discovered that Brenda had taken out a subscription to Women's Health magazine, I knew it was the beginning of the end.

Suckered by online bargains

AS I prepare for total seclusion from the rest of humanity, I thought it a good idea to practice buying stuff over the internet. After all, when I do finally cut myself off from the world, I will still need access to beer, drugs and explosives, all of which can be ordered easily through one's computer.

Touch tomorrow. Suffer today

AROUND the world, communications help to keep social and economic engines running. Not here, though. In fact, I think it's fair to say that the tower of Babel had a more effective communications network than we do.

HEIL JULIUS!

My deviant loinfruit, Clive, came to me this week and asked for a pair of sunglasses. I smacked him affectionately across the side of the head and asked what he needed them for.

Hang on men, it's cracking ...

Ted dropped by with three cases of draught beer, a bottle of Jose Cuervo and a half-jack of brandy. "I can't stay long," he said, opening his throat valve and tossing back 500ml of lager in 3.8 seconds. He's like a Porsche with a drinking problem.