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Author Profile

Name:
Ndumiso Ngcobo


Biography

Former high school teacher turned satirist Ndumiso Ngcobo styles himself a Zulu Spear-chugger. He has written "Some of My Best Friends are White and "Is it Coz I'm Black. He was born in Mpumalanga in 1972. Follow him on Twitter @NdumisoNgcobo


Latest Columns

Walking the high wire

In my weekly musing I often refer to the odd assortment of philistines I loosely call my friends as "the riffraff I consort with" to the amusement of many readers.

No more bars, bar one

It's Cadbury, not Castle, for me and my liver

My top five infamous fables

I am a child of the '70s and '80s. It was a kinder, gentler time.

Out of the mouth of babes

For mules, the law is an ass

Sometimes the worst crime is getting caught. The international war against drugs is possibly the worst waste of resources on the planet next to the so-called war on terror.

The chin-wagging chills

Why small-talking strangers strike fear in my soul. I tragically found myself seated inside one of those torture chambers euphemistically referred to as doctors' waiting rooms the other day.

Irritable SA male syndrome

My veneer of composure is as thick as a layer of soap. I wonder how many people saw the footage of that spine-chilling road-rage incident in Bloemfontein a few weeks ago.

Those old drawers in my drawer

Or, does anybody know why we hoard totally useless stuff?

Hell is the smell of snobbery

I may not know much about art but I know what I like

Intimations of mortality

Or, why a hyena in the Kruger might need a toothpick

No hitchers in my galaxy, thanks

I do it every time - pick them up and then wish I hadn't

Hail the counter-fashionista

In the circles in which I move I am notorious for not possessing an iota of dress sense. I am often the butt of jokes and many a snide remark as a result. What most of them don't realise is that I actually have an acute appreciation of style.

My ageing body letting me down

I have reached that age where my body is starting to get Cosatu tendencies; belligerent and uncooperative.

Beware the new booze bill

If you're female they might mistake your boep for a bump

The point of pointless jobs

Without car guards, would we ever get out of the mall?

A bit too much truth hormone

If you prefer to avoid reality, don't talk to children

Headline Act: Doing the zombie double-take ...

If rising from the dead, just make sure your teeth match

Don't worry, but if you do...

During my birthday party a few weeks ago, my mother stood up and made an unscheduled and unscripted speech. I'm certain she did it just to embarrass me.

Headline Act: We are soccer's Sylvester Stallones

... always on the sidelines while the others are at the Oscars

Attack of the killer seagulls

I'm not what you would call an animal-rights activist by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, if the bushy-armed folk from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals knew I'd probably massacred millions of cockroaches, flies and mosquitoes in my life they'd toyi-toyi outside my house.

The secret lingo of politics

Never use a proper verb - it might raise expectations

I haven't fallen off my camel

THIS is always a mildly unsettling time of the year for me. If you're thinking, "Isn't it unsettling for everyone, though?", please stop it - it's too early in the year to be a smartass. The reason for my unique brand of disquiet is due to a particularly stubborn strain of natural contrarianism located deep inside my whiskey-soaked psyche.

Where did my brain go?

Help! Is it end-of-year-itis or the onset of senility?

The testosterone trap

I tried to succeed at sport. Any sport. I really did, but ...

Faking it for a steel phallus

It's that time of the year when the procrastinators among us are busy finalising holiday destinations. This is often cause for great consternation for my better half.

The ordure of odours

Sies. Phoo. My nose knows where you've been

Heavenly status, my foot

I wonder how many of you are aware that the Axe television - advert depicting angels falling from the sky to seek an unattractive geek wearing the deodorant - has been pulled off air.

She is ... not my girlfriend

When I was 10 years old, I falsely claimed that Nokuzola Ngubane had "crowned" me, i.e., agreed to be my girlfriend. Before you counter-revolutionaries judge me too harshly, consider the context. It was a high-pressure situation.

Gods with stethoscopes

If they also had personalities, dinner parties would improve

Why it's called high fever

Thanks to modern medicine, euphoria is just a sneeze away

Out, damned toothbrush

I made a casual remark to a friend this week, expressing my admiration for a couple who'd just celebrated 15 years of marriage.

Worse than Dante's inferno

I have never truly and fully appreciated the allure of the nightclub. Granted; when I was in my late teens and early 20s, I patronised nightclubs with incredible regularity. But that doesn't really count.

The hugging game

I have a confession to make. I'm not much of a rugby fan. When people ask me where I was on that June afternoon in 1995, I always look away sheepishly and mumble something inaudible, like Pitso, the Bafana coach.

Victory over that pesky 5c

And a loss to wallet-raider over R100 that deserved better

The people shall toyi-toyi

An injury to one, especially Juju, is no concern of mine

A case of brain in mouth

Or why I should never be invited to address Parliament

Is reality an illusion?

How to become really frightened in one easy thought

Scaling stupidity's summit

Please don't let people like me vote this country into ruin

Headline Act: High tea in snob heaven

All I need is a tweed jacket and a few polysyllabic words

A hairstyle only public works could have built

In the much talked-about stand-off between public protector Thuli Madonsela and national police commissioner Bheki Cele, there's a character who seems to be getting off scot-free, the Minister of Public Works, Gwen Mahlangu-Nkabinde, whose head should also roll.

Headline Act: Squeak, and I will growl

Ratty little rodent voices can provoke a bad reaction

Headline Act: I think I might be a Zulu

But I don't own a leopard-print vest-and-brief combo (yet)

Headline Act: Deep, dark, corny secrets

A friend of mine was recently moaning about just how bad and cheesy the daily television soapie Generations is.

Headline Act: Respecting Godfrey's rump

Certain types of business should not be exposed to the public

Headline Act: The most terrifying of species

MRS N and I attend the comedy night at The Underground inside Melville's Cool Runnings from time to time. No, don't be silly, cannabis is illegal in South Africa. We actually go there for the comedy.

How to sort out the nation

Contrary to popular belief, I harbour absolutely no ambitions to be president. Yes, president of the republic. I think it's pretty obvious that I lack all the basic criteria to ever be considered for the highest office in the land.