Speaker’s corner
ISAW an interesting headline in one of The Independent on Saturday’s sister papers a little while ago: Death is another setback for Mugabe. The Sowetan also had a good one some time ago: Prisoners saw through bars. Peter Sullivan, an old friend and colleague, was speaking at the RAF Officers’ Club’s annual dinner in Sandton and told them of the most understated headline in history.
It was in the South Shields Gazette (Yorkshire) in April 1912 after the news had broken that the Titanic had sunk with the loss of 1 500 lives. The headline read: South Shields man dies at sea.
Among other memorable headlines I have received from readers of this column – readers who, as you might have noticed, practically write this column for me, are: March planned for next August LA voters approve urban renewal by landslide
Women’s movement called more broadbased 20-year friendship ends at altar Prosecutor releases probe into undersheriff Bank drive-in window blocked by board Sex education delayed, teachers request training. Blind bishop appointed to see Lingerie shipment hijacked – thief gives police the slip
Stadium air conditioning fails – fans protest Prostitutes appeal to pope Cars killing 110 a day – let’s resolve to do better
Survivor of Siamese twins joins parents WHEN IT’S OKAY TO SAY *&%# Hugh Cobb, the jolly doctor who I have known for years, sent me a list of times in history when one could be forgiven for using a bad word. I’ve expurgated the list slightly.
“What the *&%# was that?” Mayor of Hiroshima, August 1945
“Where did all these *&%# Indians come from?” General Custer, 1877
“You want what on the *&%# ceiling?” Michelangelo, 1566
“Scattered *&%# showers… my ass!” Noah, 4314 BC
“I need this parade like I need a *&%# hole in the head!” John F Kennedy in Dallas, 1963 MORONOXIES Talking of swearing…
You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive.
When everything’s coming your way, you’re on the wrong side of the motorway. I intend to live forever – so far, so good. A day without sunshine is like, night. On the other hand, you have different fingers. FLOGGING A DEAD HORSE Sepho Zwani, streetwise after years in Johannesburg, went home to Zululand to retire. First thing he did was buy a horse from his uncle for R400. His uncle agreed to deliver it the next day. But when his uncle arrived they found the horse had died in the back of the truck, so Sepho asked for his money back.
His uncle said: “I’m sorry, I’ve already used it to pay a debt.” So Sepho said, “OK, just unload it.” His uncle said, “Hau! What will do with a dead ihhashi? ”Sepho said: “I will raffle it.” The uncle said: “Who would want a dead horse?” Sepho said: “I won’t tell anybody it’s dead.” A month later, the uncle met up with Sepho in Mtubatuba and asked: “What happened with the ihhashi?”
Sepho said: “I sold 200 raffle tickets at R4 each and made a profit of R400.” Farmer: “Hau! Didn’t anyone complain?” Sepho: “Only the guy who won. So I gave him back his R4.”