How to humblebrag like a pro

One of my favourite parents at my sons' school is this woman I have dubbed "The Boksburg Lip", a corruption of Muhammad Ali's nickname back when he was Cassius Clay, "The Louisville Lip".

Like Ali before her, The Boksburg Lip seems not to have heard of Miranda rights - the one about remaining silent.

But like I said, I like her. A lot. In fact, I like her so much that when I see her walking in my direction, I walk in the opposite direction. I'm not a selfish man, and I think her company should be enjoyed by as many as possible, like a sprinkler set off in the middle of a playground filled with children in the middle of July.

The Lip's whinges follow a pattern: "I hate my job so much! My boss is an absolute slave driver. Can you believe I haven't even packed for tomorrow's trip to St Barts?"

She's clearly an accomplished practitioner of the routine referred to as humblebragging or combragging - complain + brag.

Some folks seem to leap out of the womb with advanced combragging skills. Until I was seven I had only ever played street football with plastic balls. Leather balls were too expensive.

One day Makhekhe's dad took him shopping in Pietermaritzburg. We knew something big had happened when he casually remarked, "My big toe is really sore. I've been kicking the leather ball that my dad got from Game." And we all went, "Aah!"

Later in life, in the mid-'80s, I went to high school with a chap whose dad was a minister in the KwaZulu bantustan. I remember him emitting a deep sigh and lamenting, "Daddy is so unfair. When we went on vacation in December, he booked us into the Maharani Hotel but he knows we prefer the Elangeni."

The rest of us closed our eyes and tried to imagine what a suite at the Elangeni smelled like. Sbu reckoned it smelled like popcorn, but everything smelled like popcorn to him.

If you're reading this and you're thinking, "Well, I have a life as fabulous as The Boksburg Lip's but I don't know where to start on my journey as an accomplished humblebraggart", fear not. I have compiled a guide:

The first tip to combragging effectively is to choose your victims carefully. So many would-be humblebraggarts get the target audience totally wrong.

For instance, there's a radio jock who peppers every sentence with references to minor mishaps that occurred to him "when I was out in LA". Heck, the number of South Africans (including us natives), who have been to the US must be in the six-figure region.

But I'll tell you who chose the victims of her combragging beautifully: Felicia Mabuza-Suttle in the early '90s. She pulled it off so well that my friend Molefe started referring to her as Felicia "When I was in America" Mabuza-Suttle.

The second tip is to set a trap. You can't just blurt out: "I was so disappointed by the quality of the blue cheese-and-caviar croissants at the Michelangelo the other day." Folks will see through your ruse. No. You have to set it up. Remark casually, "How is the cheese in that sandwich?" Only when they say, "Ag, it's just your garden-variety cheddar" do you crinkle your nose in disgust: "I bet it's a lot better than the rubbish blue cheese they serve at the Michelangelo."

Lastly, be careful that the complaint part does not dwarf the brag part. Do not say, "Because of the closeness of the pedals on my new Ferrari, I accidentally pressed the accelerator and cluttered into another car." That will lead to "Oh dear! Are you OK? Did you break any bones?" and everyone will forget about the Ferrari. Rather complain about the serial foot cramps you've experienced since getting your Italian stallion.

If you follow these tips, you will soon discover that everyone gives you a wide berth at cocktail parties, choosing to rather admire you from a distance. Folks will be so much in awe of you they'll start ignoring your calls completely. And then, my friend, it's only a matter of time before Jeannie D and co showcase your fabulous life on Top Billing.

• Follow the author of this article, Ndumiso Ngcobo, on Twitter: @NdumisoNgcobo