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.
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.
Stoning could also work, although Murray might have been stoned before
Super-sleuth's raunchy close-ups of hot, swollen parts offer me my first encounter with auto eroticism
No national honours for me despite thinking very hard about being brave
Trust the Chinese to come up with a preventative to cardiac arrest
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
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.
When a big HOWEVER blurs the information in the media
Lies and misery fill the void left by the murder of my trusty jalopy
BRENDA said she wants me to take her out on Valentine's Day.
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.
THE ANC says it is pleased with the appointment of its chairperson, Baleka Mbete, to the African Union's African Peer Review Mechanism panel.
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.
'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.
An Open Letter to the Independent Communications Authority of SA
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.
An Open Letter to 'Reverend' Kemo Waters
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.
My tequila tells me the interesting stuff is yet to come
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
An open letter to Jackie Selebi
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.
An open letter to Julius Malema
The people's republic might want to hold off until the ANC proves just how cheap it holds South Africa
Professional dipsomaniacs, whose driving skills improve with alcohol, should decide whether the limit stays or is scrapped
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.
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."
Now if only we could get rid of the referees
I have been intrigued by many things this week, one of which was the headline "JSC to grill Mogoeng".
I HAVE never seen such a shouty bunch as those Libyans. Always with the fists in the air and the nonstop chanting and yelling.
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.
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."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
WHEN I discovered that Brenda had taken out a subscription to Women's Health magazine, I knew it was the beginning of the end.
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.
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.
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.