ON MAR­GIN

Finweek English Edition - - Piker -

TABLOID TRUTHS

SOUTH AFRICA’S best-sell­ing tabloid re­cently ran the head­line “Evil eats my cash!” It was a re­port about R100 notes be­ing chewed up ev­ery night in a woman’s house near East Lon­don. Some may say it’s the work of rats, but the house­owner be­lieves it’s the work of a tokoloshe.

Given the eco­nomic sit­u­a­tion, “Evil eats my cash” wouldn’t seem so out of place on The Wall Street Jour­nal’s front page.

ROB­BER BARON

AC­CORD­ING TO A RE­PORT from Dig­i­talJour­nal.com, a home­less man named Roy Brown, 54, robbed the Cap­i­tal One bank in Shreve­port, Louisiana, in the United States and came away with just one US$100 bill (he only wanted enough for a stay at the nearby detox cen­tre). Af­ter feel­ing re­morse­ful, he sur­ren­dered to the po­lice the next day. Af­ter plead- ing guilty, the district judge sen­tenced him to 15 years in prison for first-de­gree rob­bery.

That’s not how it’s done – make bil­lions dis­ap­pear from a bank and re­ceive a bonus and a bailout.

THAT’S THE SPIRIT

PA­TRICK WALKS INTO A BAR in Dublin, or­ders three pints of Guin­ness and sits in a cor­ner, drink­ing a sip from each pint in turn. When he’s fin­ished all three he goes back to the bar and or­ders three more.

The bar­man says: “You know, a pint goes flat soon af­ter I pull it. Your pint would taste bet­ter if you bought one at a time.”

Pa­trick replies: “Well now, I have two brod­ders – one is in Amer­ica and de odder in Aus­tralia and here I am in Dublin. When we all left home we promised dat we’d drink dis way to re­mem­ber de days we all drank toged­der.”

The bar­man ad­mits it’s a nice custom and says no more.

Pa­trick be­comes a reg­u­lar cus­tomer and al­ways drinks the same way: or­der­ing three pints and drink­ing a sip out of each in turn un­til they’re fin­ished.

One day he comes in and or­ders just two pints. All the other regulars in the bar no­tice and fall si­lent.

When he goes back to the bar for the sec­ond round, the bar­man says: “I don’t want to in­trude on your grief but I wanted to of­fer my con­do­lences on your great loss.”

Pa­trick looks con­fused for a mo­ment, then the penny drops and he starts to laugh, “Oh no,” he says. “Every­one’s fine. Tis me... I’ve quit drinkin!”

WIN­NERS ALL

THE WASH­ING­TON POST has pub­lished the winning sub­mis­sions to its yearly ne­ol­o­gism con­test, in which read­ers are asked to sup­ply al­ter­na­tive mean­ings for com­mon words. The win­ners were: 1. Cof­fee (n) – the per­son upon whom one

coughs. 2. Flab­ber­gasted (adj) – ap­palled over how

much weight you’ve gained. 3. Ab­di­cate (v) – to give up all hope of ever

hav­ing a flat stom­ach. 4. Es­planade (v) – to at­tempt an ex­pla­na­tion

while drunk. 5. Willy-nilly (adj) – im­po­tent. 6. Neg­li­gent (adj) – de­scribes a con­di­tion in which you ab­sent­mind­edly an­swer the door in your night­gown. 7. Lymph (v) – to walk with a lisp. 8. Gar­goyle (n) – olive-flavoured mouth

wash. 9. Flat­u­lence (n) – emer­gency ve­hi­cle that picks you up af­ter you’re run over by a steam­roller. 10. Balder­dash (n) – a rapidly re­ced­ing hair

line. 11. Tes­ti­cle (n) – a hu­mor­ous ques­tion on an

exam. 12. Rec­ti­tude (n) – the for­mal, dig­ni­fied bear

ing adopted by proc­tol­o­gists. 13. Poke­mon (n) – a Rasta­far­ian proc­tol­o­gist. 14. Fris­bee­tar­i­an­ism (n) – the be­lief that, when you die, your soul flies up on to the roof and gets stuck there. 15. Cir­cum­vent (n) – an open­ing in the front of

boxer shorts worn by cir­cum­cised men.

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