LONG LIVE THE INSULT
Ndumiso Ngcobo on his love of well-placed scorn
DURING the first 40 minutes of last weekend’s Manchester derby at Old Trafford, United were running around like headless chickens trying to get at least two seconds on the ball.
I’m not a Manchester United supporter but I was rooting for them on account of my fanatical admiration for José Mourinho’s football acumen. It was therefore a painful 40 minutes for me. But when one of the commentators observed nonchalantly: “Right now Manchester United are hosting a Manchester City training session,” I couldn’t help but spurt out through my nostrils the amber-coloured liquid I was imbibing.
There are few things I enjoy more than hearing a wellplaced insult. I know many educated, intelligent people who believe that employing an insult during a good ole intellectual scrap is a sign that one has run out of arguments. I could not disagree more violently. Let me give you a moronic example.
Me: “I believe UKZN students are waging a noble struggle”.
Clueless individual: “A-ha! So you are in support of the burning of libraries!”
Me: “I suspect that your mom and dad are siblings.”
Don’t be daft now. This is just a hypothetical exchange. I would never call anyone an inbred specimen.
I insist there is no better way to register one’s disdain for another individual’s thought processes than the good ole insult. One of the sharpest proponents of insulting perceived weaker thinkers must be one Sir Winston Churchill. After observing his successor as prime minister of Great Britain, Clement Attlee, Churchill quipped, “He is a modest man who has a lot to be modest about.” Ouch!
Churchill is the same fellow who, while stumbling home from the House of Commons in 1946, was accosted by MP Bessie Braddock, who remarked: “Winston, you are drunk, and what’s more you are disgustingly drunk,” to which he retorted, “Bessie, my dear, you are ugly, and what’s more, you are disgustingly ugly. But tomorrow I shall be sober and you will still be ugly.”
Fresh, coming from a man who looked like a cross between an overfed bullfrog and Shrek, but hilarious nonetheless. And I think he is lucky that he didn’t make those remarks on Twitter because the “woke” people would have called him out for misogyny.
One of the greatest connoisseurs in the art of ribbing political opponents in our parliamentary system had to be one Dr Lionel Mtshali (RIP Mantshinga). He once famously unleashed this gem in the KwaZulu-Natal legislature (not a direct quote): “UKhongolose akabositshela uma efuna ukusichatha ukuze siquluse ngoba uphondo kalungeni kahle nxa simile.” [The ANC needs to forewarn us when they want to give us an enema so that we can bend over.]
Regular listeners to the Ukhozi FM current affairs programme Abasiki Bebunda will remember a promo they ran for a long time featuring the same Dr Mtshali leading the IFP out of that legislative chamber in protest, with the words, “Somlomo, sengiyalikhipha ke iqembu lami kulelihlathi elimnyama!” [Honourable Speaker, I’m withdrawing my party from this dark forest!]
Judging by the sharpness of tongue of those IFP geezers, I am convinced that where the ANC has political education classes, they have insult education classes.
And it starts from the head. I could write a book on Dr Mangosuthu Buthelezi’s acerbic utterances over the years.
One of his trusted lieutenants, Dr Ziba Jiyane, who had left the IFP to form his own party, Nadesco, made remarks about him being affected by sugar diabetes. Buthelezi apparently retorted: “Lesisinqukuza esiwuJiyane sithi nginoshukela nje, sake sangikhotha yini?” [This bighead, Jiyane, says I have sugar diabetes. Did he ever lick me?]
Someone recently sent me a clip of an interview he had on Ukhozi FM ahead of the recent local government elections, when a journalist insisted on asking a question that he had already answered. His response: “I wasn’t aware that you are deaf. Your question is absolutely silent.” I almost stood up and gave him a standing ovation.
Speaking of politicians with a flair for the art of roasting, I believe that we have a rising star in the EFF’s Mbuyiseni Ndlozi. After Minister Lindiwe Zulu coloured her hair red, he stood up in parliament and with a deadpan expression went: “Honourable Speaker, Comrade Ginger over there . . . ” — bringing the house down.
And recently, when Minister Maite Nkoana-Mashabane decided to take a little nap, Ndlozi was at it again. He rose on a “point of order”, citing, “I’m worried that this minister that we pay so much money, Minister Maite Nkoana-Mashabane, is sleeping. And with that position, she’s going to fall. And then the minister will have fallen.” All delivered with mock concern.
I like this sort of thing. Subtle insults. I think it’s because I come from a culture that is big on using mock politeness to insult someone. For instance, you will hear things such as, “Cha, angisho ukuthi uSbusiso mubi, ngithi cishe wakhiwa sekuxhanyazelwa” [I’m not saying Sbusiso is ugly, but I think he was built in a hurry].
We should all embrace the little insults that come our way. I don’t have the smallest cranium in the world. So when an old man looked at me at the Pinetown taxi rank and remarked, “Your neck seems to be taking a little bit of strain there, son,” I understood. LS
‘He says I have sugar diabetes. Did he ever lick me?’ We should all embrace the little insults that come our way