Capitec Bank, South Africa
1378565477
O Tichmann
+27 833970723
Tuesday 16 June 2020
Sunday 14 June 2020
Mouthful
Dear ANC
I have just been reading about the Free State mayor with foot firmly lodged in mouth.
I see that you have temporarily suspended him for ‘racist utterances’. I think that’s unfair. There seems to be a serious disconnect between brain and mouth functions. The man is clearly in need of help. Suspension will not help at all. It is cruel to keep the man in a job which is clearly so at variance with his natural gifts and talents. Please find something more suitable for him. There is a fellow at our taxi rank who shouts out “Kouse, fyf rand” into a megaphone for hours on end. This may well be an eminently suitable career for one who enjoys using his mouth and can bypass the inconvenience of engaging brain first. Call it compassionate redeployment. One does feel for people so cruelly disabled.
The question does spring to mind as to where and how you find these chaps. You do seem to have a ready supply, if the news is anything to go by. By ‘these chaps’ I mean the large number of ‘leaders’ who couldn’t lead a one-man scout troop. I’m sure there are lots of competent people available (else we’d be in even worse shape than we are). Please let us know if you need some assistance with selection.
As for the DA, if the allegations about your eloquent Swartland mayor are true, does your inaction mean consent? Asking for a friend.
Yours in the struggle to find competent, thoughtful leaders.
Richard
Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted
Capitec Bank, South Africa
1378565477
O Tichmann
+27 833970723
A Time To Remember
A Time To Remember
Dear Medical Fraternity
I hate to say I told you so (actually, it’s a rather nice, smug, feeling of self-righteousness).
Mr Martins’s memory banks have been cleaned out, looted, liposucked by ATGA. Where there was a memory of a meeting with the Guptas is now only dark night or white space. I warned you, dear medical fraternity, of the dangers of atypical, transient, global amnesia. Making the black plague look a bout of hay fever, this pandemic has scythed through the ranks of politicians, movers, shakers and kingmakers. Now, Mr Martins joins Messrs Koko, Zwane, Jayzed and a host of the fallen. Even more alarming is that the entire security detail seems to have been similarly afflicted, if my reading is correct. All at one fell swoop. One is reminded of the carnage in Hamlet:
‘What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, That thou so many princes at a shot
So bloodily hast struck?’
Dear clinicians, even those of us with no medical training can tell that the common factor in most of these tragic cases is the presence of the Saxonworld family. Surely they must be quarantined immediately. Isn’t Robben Island available? One imagines that they would be comfortable in the cells. surrounded by so much history. Some therapy would have to be provided. There must surely be enough rocks on the island to keep them happy, entertained and healthy. This could also add some spice to the island tours.
The Saxonworld shebeen will have to be burnt to the ground and the whole area disinfected. I’d also suggest the Mugabe cure for the most seriously affected - confinement to their homes or some other, suitable environment. We must act decisively, after lunch.
Clinicians, the eyes of the nation are upon you.
Yours in the struggle for national health.
Richard
Saturday 13 June 2020
The Scuffle Continues 2
The Scuffle Continues 2
June 3rd, 2020 by richardjmann
‘The Scuffle Continues’ is available from Kindle and Amazon at 4 dollars (special Black Monday to Sunday price)
Here’s an excerpt:
A Hole In The Head
Saturday, January 20th, 2018
Dear Mr Trump
A friend said that it takes an a..hole to recognise a sh..hole. That was crude but he says that you started it. Also that we bow to your superior wisdom and experience in matters lavatorial. You are clearly full of it - wisdom, that is. From ‘Yes, we can!’ straight to the can. How you Americans have moved on.
With our own wisecracking president rather subdued, we do appreciate your efforts to keep global, political comedy alive. Maybe some work on the quality of the shtick? You made such a great comic duo, with our Jayzed working the dark continent (Eskom’s contribution) and you doubling up the rest of the globe with uncontrollable mirth….
Here’s an excerpt:
A Hole In The Head
Saturday, January 20th, 2018
Dear Mr Trump
A friend said that it takes an a..hole to recognise a sh..hole. That was crude but he says that you started it. Also that we bow to your superior wisdom and experience in matters lavatorial. You are clearly full of it - wisdom, that is. From ‘Yes, we can!’ straight to the can. How you Americans have moved on.
With our own wisecracking president rather subdued, we do appreciate your efforts to keep global, political comedy alive. Maybe some work on the quality of the shtick? You made such a great comic duo, with our Jayzed working the dark continent (Eskom’s contribution) and you doubling up the rest of the globe with uncontrollable mirth….
The Long Goodbye
The Long Goodbye
Dear Uncle Bob
I was deeply moved at the sight of those large crowds rejoicing at your long awaited shuffle into peaceful retirement. A newspaper headline very rudely blurted ‘Voertsek’. Gratuitous vulgarity. I wish journalists would not stoop to using gutter language. ‘Sod Off!’ would have been far more acceptable.
Time and chance, the Good Book says, comes to all. You certainly had your chance and it seems your time is up, not so? One of your great achievements has been the clever way in which you encouraged the spreading of Zimbabwean skills to all corners of the earth. Inevitably, many may want to now return to be near you in your time of retirement. The affection and esteem in which you are held has surely grown with each unique leadership intervention. I particularly like your cows for cash initiative. Still struggling to picture how the bank queues worked but you certainly put the stock back into stock markets. There is no question that you transformed Zimbabwe. Whenever I think of you, Great Zimbabwe comes to mind - called the Zimbabwe Ruins by ignorant colonialists.
It’s a pity that Grace won’t get to ascend the podium. With her skills with the power cable, no-one could doubt her ability to wield power. And your (former?) party would have had no need of a chief whip. It does seem you will have to settle for games of monopoly and DVD evenings. Game Of Thrones might be right up your alley. Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister will never grow old. But then again, the humour is quintessentially British. Sorry, perhaps a bad idea.
Understandably, you are reluctant to retire as there is still so much to plunde…, sorry, achieve. When you retire to our country, as so many interesting people do, I hope to discuss your unusual perspective on leadership and transformation over some coffee (and perhaps a pipe of good Zimbabwean tobacco - do you still grow it?). As our own leadership seem to have taken their cue from you, it would be educational to hear from the maestro himself.
I look forward to seeing you in Sandton (just a cable length away).
Yours in the long shuffle to retirement.
Richard
Friday 12 June 2020
They Shoot Horses, Don't They?
They Shoot Horses, Don’t They
Sunday, November 26th, 2017
Dear Mr President
Lines from Toto’s ‘Africa’ come to mind whenever I think of you (which is far more often than any man should be thinking of another man).
‘Gonna take a lot to drive me away from you
There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do'
I suppose you could add:
‘I bless my reign down in Africa’
Being concerned for your health and welfare, I wondered whether you might be feeling a little draught from the door left ajar after Uncle Bob’s departure. One would hate for you to be indisposed. After all, when you sneeze, or giggle, the whole country catches a cold. Incidentally, a language practitioner (I assume this is someone who speaks a human language), pointed out to me that the great one’s name is Rob, not Bob. I could not call him rob; that’s getting personal, isn’t it? Besides, the expression, ‘Bob’s your uncle’ was affectionately coined for him.
Mr President, surely you have achieved all that is on your bucket list? Castle, largeish family, friends in high and low places, hordes of adoring admirers of your fresh comedy routines - the list goes on. Is it not time for you also to fade ‘far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife’?
You see Mr President, as much as we delight in your wonderfully inventive routines with numbers, and new words, your revolving cabinets, cop rotation, headline - making surprises and every other squirming rabbit that you pull out of your cavernous. bottomless hat, we are in serious danger of circuit overload. We are living the ‘thousand (un) natural shocks that flesh is heir to’ in too short a time. You need to slow down so that we can at least catch up to last week’s scand… , er, story.
Wouldn’t it be nice to cast off the cares of state and swap transformation stories with Uncle Bob over tea, while Princess Grace does her cable knitting?
Mr President, unkind folk may want to quote Cromwell to you,: ‘For all the good that you have done here…… In the name of God, go.Seeing as you love music and dance, I prefer to quote you some fragments of another song that comes to mind: They Shoot Horses, Don’t They.
Here we go
Round and round the floor
It’s making no sense
But we’ll stay here till the end
It seems so long
Just like a marathon
Couldn’t we just stop now?
Yours in the brisk walk to retirement.
Richard
Silliest Of Seasons
Dear Fellow South Africans
We’ve had silly season for the past eight or nine years. Perhaps the difference at this time of year is the rash of traditional armed robberies. Who would have thought that villains are sentimental about Christmas?
My neighbour was in the shop at the local garage last night. She placed her order with a fellow who was emptying the till contents into a bag. Perhaps preoccupied with the gathering storm outside, she assumed that he was a member of the management. She asked him to ’shesha’, as the rain was on its way. He laughed and replied that he was ’shesharing’ as much as he could. My neighbour did wonder briefly why one of the other staff members was fixing her with an unblinking stare. The management member exited with his bag and a cheery farewell. Only then, horses departed, did the shop alarms let loose a futile cacophony. My neighbour did have a vague sense, during the spring cleaning of the till that something was out of kilter. This was simply because no-one ever works so fast or enthusiastically in that particular shop. That includes the ATM, which is our of order about three days in every week and on monthends. I doubt whether the robbers had a great haul in that Primrose garage. Perhaps just practice for bigger things. That is, unless our own magnificent Sweeney tracks them down, determined bloodhounds that they are. My neighbour was a little shaken, but having been through four similar episodes this year, recovered quite quickly.
Elsewhere the silliness continues. One of our politicians claimed that attempts had been made to poison, first his mind, then his body. My advice to him is: get a food taster (for a small retainer and handsome danger allowance, I am available). Also, walk softly and carry a. big stick. I have several intricately carved and decorated sticks at Black Friday prices for just such a time.
To you the same advice and offer, fellow South Africans, during this silliest of seasons. Joburg drivers, please remember that rain is a natural phenomenon and won’t harm you if you ease off on the accelerator.
Yours in the struggle against extreme silliness and the love of traditional Christmases.
Richard
We’ve had silly season for the past eight or nine years. Perhaps the difference at this time of year is the rash of traditional armed robberies. Who would have thought that villains are sentimental about Christmas?
My neighbour was in the shop at the local garage last night. She placed her order with a fellow who was emptying the till contents into a bag. Perhaps preoccupied with the gathering storm outside, she assumed that he was a member of the management. She asked him to ’shesha’, as the rain was on its way. He laughed and replied that he was ’shesharing’ as much as he could. My neighbour did wonder briefly why one of the other staff members was fixing her with an unblinking stare. The management member exited with his bag and a cheery farewell. Only then, horses departed, did the shop alarms let loose a futile cacophony. My neighbour did have a vague sense, during the spring cleaning of the till that something was out of kilter. This was simply because no-one ever works so fast or enthusiastically in that particular shop. That includes the ATM, which is our of order about three days in every week and on monthends. I doubt whether the robbers had a great haul in that Primrose garage. Perhaps just practice for bigger things. That is, unless our own magnificent Sweeney tracks them down, determined bloodhounds that they are. My neighbour was a little shaken, but having been through four similar episodes this year, recovered quite quickly.
Elsewhere the silliness continues. One of our politicians claimed that attempts had been made to poison, first his mind, then his body. My advice to him is: get a food taster (for a small retainer and handsome danger allowance, I am available). Also, walk softly and carry a. big stick. I have several intricately carved and decorated sticks at Black Friday prices for just such a time.
To you the same advice and offer, fellow South Africans, during this silliest of seasons. Joburg drivers, please remember that rain is a natural phenomenon and won’t harm you if you ease off on the accelerator.
Yours in the struggle against extreme silliness and the love of traditional Christmases.
Richard
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