Beastly business of the Bees

Ben Trovato: His nickname is Cow and his fists are the size of my head. When he's not using them to carry a rugby ball, he uses them to beat people to death. Okay, maybe not people. Just one person, Tshwane metro police officer Johannes Mogale.

Speaking at a press conference a few days after the bludgeoning, Springbok coach Peter de Villiers said: "Nothing must stand in our way between now and the World Cup, and the players have to be strong enough to deal with all kinds of psychological issues and domestic circumstances."

Getting between the Springboks and the World Cup is more dangerous than getting between a hippo and water. Try it and you will be crushed. And while I agree with De Villiers that the World Cup is way more sacred than human life, I'm not sure where beating a man to death with your bare hands falls. It's probably more of a psychological issue. Cutting your husband in half with a chainsaw would be a domestic circumstance.

The always erudite De Villiers rabbited on: "For instance, how will the Bees Roux tragedy affect those who know him well?"

I beg your pardon? Don't you mean the Johannes Mogale tragedy? He is the dead one, right? As for how it will affect those who know Bees, it's hard for me to say, since I have never met the man and hope to God I never do. I expect, though, that some of his friends may quietly remove him from their list of dinner-party guests. You do not want to be the one to tell Bees that he is too drunk to drive and, as a friend, feel compelled to wrestle his car keys from him. Not unless the rest of the Blue Bulls squad is standing behind you. Along with two doctors. And maybe an attorney. And a priest.

Divot-Kop said the Springboks supported Bees "not on the deed, but on the circumstances that led to the situation developing". Absholutely. The shituation would never have developed if one or other evildoer hadn't kept spiking Bees's drinks with alcohol that night.

"It is an unfortunate reality that these things can happen to anybody," squeaked the insufferable Snor. He has a point. I went to a bar one night and was asked to leave after trying to dance on the table. On my way out, I stabbed 14 people with a broken bottle. The bouncer said I shouldn't worry about it. "Happens all the time," he said.

I was in the Spar the other day and saw a little old lady using a panga to hack a paraplegic's arms off right there in his wheelchair just because he bumped into her in the toiletries aisle. Just goes to show it can happen to anybody.

Even me myself, some days I can't walk down the street without wanting to punch, bite and kick complete strangers to death. The only thing that stops me is the fear that they might retaliate. I am afraid of pain. Bees is not. "Pain" should be his nickname, although Bees does him more justice.

Speaking of justice, if Bees's lawyer calls De Villiers to speak in mitigation of sentence, I expect the judge will put him away for life.

Bees, on the other hand, will probably be acquitted.