It’s near-weekend time, dear Hatpeople, and I wanted, as your “SA-positive” blogger, to send you cruising into weekend mode with a song in your heart and a smile on your dial.
So I apologise in advance for my feeling the need to have a rant at a very English upper-middle class plonker. A well-known restaurant reviewer who has long been insufferable for his unrestrained pretentiousness but who has now topped that with a single act of such intolerable stupidity that he has had even his fiercest critics choking on their gin and tonics.
To set the most horrible of scenes, here are two photographs…
A homo sapien
A baboon (with baby)
Now you would be forgiven for believing that the sentient being in the first photograph might be appear to be more evolved than the sentient being in the second. For starters, he’s wearing clothes and spectacles and has exercised a humanoid option to be clean-shaven.
The baboon, on the other hand, is still walking on four legs, has stuck with the head-to-toe furry look and carries her child on her back instead of in a babyseat in the back of a Volvo.
Dear Hatpeople, I’ve been digging around on your behalf and have discovered why former Buffoona Buffoona coach Carlos Parreira has returned to South Africa to once more pick up the poison chalice, apart from the millions of rands he gets to take back to spend in Rio.
Is your boss currently in his office? No? Good. Because you’ll need a really comfortable chair in which to relax when I break this stunning news.
Are you in his/her chair yet? OK. Cool. Here it is: it’s because he now believes that Bafana Bafana CAN win the World Cup next year!
Crikeyness, I hear you exclaim? That was also my exclamation. Wait. Here are the reasons why he believes this…
Da-dah! He's been given a new bunch of players to coach. Note the Orlando Pirates players in the new squad (they be the ones making the "crossbones" gesture, yes)...
Da-dah (2)! Lekkerness, ne? We South Africans are good at making a plan, hey? I'm sure they'll get in some engineering boffin from the University of Kakamas to work out how to move the pitch around at half-time...
Nice. We’re all sorted then. You can now go to put all your rands on us winning the World Cup. Ja, even bet what you can find in your granny’s purse. Eishness, this makes me moerse proud to be a Souff Effrikan. And a truly SA-positive-like doff of the red hat to The Sowetan for the, er, tip-off.
I reckon Parreira shouldn’t think twice before making Victor Matfield the goalkeeper. And Ricky Januarie would sommer make a perfect Javier Mascherano-like snappy-fox-terrier midfielder, hey? And, if they can lower his sights by about 20 feet, Morne Steyn to take the penalties?
And I want to see that Portuguese ponce Cristiano Ronaldo get tackled by Bakkies. Yowzerness!
No, I don’t know where that headline came from either. So don’t ask. Just embrace it. I did. It’s like Grace Jones. I don’t know where she comes from. It doesn’t matter, does it? What’s important is that she came from somewhere – some distant planet where beings are programmed to make music for us earthlings to have sex to? – and sang Slave to the Rhythm, Pull Up to the Bumper, My Jamaican Guy, Love is The Drug (eat your tongue out, Mr Ferry), Warm Leatherette and, more recently and just as satisfyingly, Williams’ Blood, Libertango and Hurricane.
I don’t want to ask questions about Grace Jones. And that’s not because I very fondly remember her slugging some TV interviewer (it could have been David Frost but I don’t really care, what only matters to me is that she had the balls to do it) because he asked a question she didn’t like. I just want her to be. What she is. Wherever she’s from. Whatever she wants to be. As long as she does it for me.
And as long as she keeps making music that makes me want to have sex within seven seconds of hearing her sing. I’ve been playing her tunes in my car on the way to parties and clubs since time began. And I think time began when I first heard Grace Jones. Enough. I have something to show you. Now if you’re one of those sticklers who simply must have their videos beautifully shot and edited with the sound just right, best you hop over this one to the second bit of vid I’m throwing your way later on.
But if you’re happy to just feel the unmatchable mad sexualness of the vibe of Miss Jones, stick around…
How was that for you? I would be interested to know. OK. that was filmed by some over-excited fan sitting in the sixth row so Martin Scorsese’s not about to put his hand up and say “I did it”. But that’s not the point, is it? The point is that our girl, our stellar turbo-sexual galactico, felt like swirling a hula-hoop around her waist for at least seven minutes while giving Paris a collective hard-on. And while she was introducing her band to the audience too. I like the fact that she can multi-task while so effortlessly and felinely and so sexually giving Parisians yet another 41 reasons to think about definitely having sex when they get home, if not much sooner. Like right there in the sixth row.
Many Hatpeople will have been horrified by the reports of the terrible accident in which local surfing legend Heather “Fergie” Clark was seriously injured after a car driven by an allegedly drunk 20-year-old man collided with her vehicle.
The young man then apparently tried to get away from the scene of the accident before he was apprehended and arrested on suspicion of drunk driving before appearing in court and being released on bail pending an investigation. Disgusting.
The good news is that Heather is making encouraging progress at the Hibiscus Private Hospital in Port Shepstone on KwaZulu-Natal’s South Coast after being treated for her injuries.
But our seriously popular surfer found the strength to be propped up in bed and thank her family, friends and supporters for the help she has received over the past few harrowing days. A grateful tip of the old red hat to surfing publicist Olivia “OJ” Symcox for sending fredhatman.co.za this wonderfully reassuring pic…
Heather relays a thank-you message from her hospital bed to all of the people, both friends and strangers, who have rallied to help her
Doesn’t Fergie look amazingly well for somebody who has been through a dreadful accident such as the one she fortunately survived? Yes, she does. And what a lovely thank-you from our girl in this pic! I’m sure I speak on behalf of everybody who has admired Fergie’s accomplishments on the surfing circuit over the years when I thank her for giving South Africans, and especially us living here on the edge of the Indian Ocean, so much of pride. Thank you, Fergie!
OK. Cool. Now we need to look at the practicalities of the situation. This is what Heather’s sister Brenda Human has said: “Heather is still in a lot of pain but is doing OK and is hoping to be home soon. She won’t be allowed to surf until January next year and has to have four to six weeks complete bed rest.”
Dear Hatpeople, if you don’t yet love our Heartman, the amiable nutter who will unicycle (yes, that’s got one wheel) from Durban to Cape Town to raise awareness of landmines, you surely will now.
He leaves his surfboard on my verandah here at Hatman Mansions. So he pitches up here the other day, gets himself very excited about the latest sponsors to come onboard the Heart & Sole Tour… and then says he’s going for a surf.
“I’ll come with you. We’ll walk down, ja?” I say (Selection Beach is 40m from my gate). “Nah, Hatman, I’m unicycling,” he says. “Want me to carry your board?” I ask, as his back-up vehicle driver, publicist, personal blogger etc.
“Nah, it’s cool bru, I’ve got it,” is Heartie’s reply. And this is what it looked like…
Have surfboard, will unicycle... Heartman goes in search of a wave
How cool is this guy? Go on. Out of a possible 20 on the Like-Totally-Cool-o-Meter, where would you put your tick? 16? 17? Oh, come, come, let’s not fanny about here, Hatpeople… you’d want to give old Heartie a nice, round 20, wouldn’t you? Yes, you would! I know it. And I know that you know that I know that you would. Good. We’re sorted then.
Look. The Heartman is so cool that when he turns up here of a morning to help himself to my finest Colombian (coffee) and Ouma Marmalade rusks, I have to chip away with an icepick just to get near the oke. How cool is that? Yes. Ice-cold completely-frozen-over cool is the correct answer.
OK. So when I tell you that he had done a 15km unicycle training ride from Hatman Mansions, Umdloti on the N2 to Gateway and then to Umhlanga before heading off for that surf, you would definitely throw caution to the wind and award him that 20, wouldn’t you? Yes. Nice.
And, only because I know that you love pictures of your Heartman’s jolly japes on his AmaOnetyre, here’s the proof…
Only 1k to the turn-off to Gateway... and Heartman is shrouded in sweat after unicycling 9km in the Durban heat...
... and he makes it to Umhlanga to a warm welcome and triple espresso from Maro, owner of Zara's, a coffee shop with a very cyclist-friendly vibe!
I’m glad you enjoyed that. I didn’t. My truck had a blow-out just outside Umdloti and then I had to fork out for a pair of poncy cycling shorts at Gateway because Heartie was worrying about a decreasing capacity to produce children due to extreme scrotum-chafe!
I jest. Truth is that I am lost in admiration for The Heartman who is so determined to complete our 1,700km adventure across South Africa that “Unveiled Sweetheart” – his wife-to-be who remains anonymous so as to avoid the press and attendant paparazzi – reports that her man even goes to the loo on “AmaOneTyre”!
What a nutter! You love him, don’t you? Yes. I know you do. There is no other way.
This weekend, in the second of my series of interviews with interesting Umdlotians, I ask the Big Five Questions of art photographer Jacki Bruniquel…
Jacki Bruniquel draws on a spiritual connection with the natural environment for her artworks Pic: Hatman
FH:What sparked your interest in art/photography? And how did your work first manifest itself?
JB: I have always been interested in art, some of my first memories involve drawing Enid Blyton characters on the great big faraway fig tree at the bottom of our garden. Perhaps it was something i was born with … it was also something that was also always encouraged by my parents. My interest in photography started when I began my fine art degree at Michaelis (Cape Town). On our first day we were told to make a pinhole camera from a box, a tin, some photographic paper and a piece of Prestik. I began a love affair with the dark room right there and then and found it much more enjoyable then sketching the crusty naked hobo types they got in for life drawing classes. From a pinhole camera i went on to a Pentax and then a Hasselblad. These days I have gone digital (and really really really regret selling the Hasselblad so I could buy a ticket to London!)
As I have pointed out before, we at Hatman Mansions are very fond of extreme cooking. Recipes, like rules, should be ignored at all times.
In fact, we enjoy extreme sports of any kind. So when a video popped up on Facebook this morning offering “extreme shepherding” it instantly caught my eye. Well, what remains of them after “Phuza Thursday” at the Bush Tavern, an integral part of the stellar panoply of hostelries purveying the Umdloti Vibe. That was an interesting selection of words in that last sentence, wasn’t it?
I was just testing my brain to ascertain exactly how many synapses were indeed sparking after last night and, I am unsurprised to report, the Brain-o-meter is pointing steadily at the region marked “Very Few”.
But, you are right, I digress. As did these Welsh sheep farmers, who instead of sitting in front of their fires and sipping Ovaltine with their Gwyneths while watching repeats of The Vicar of Dibley, decided instead to watch their flocks by night… running around with a load of LED illuminations on their backs. I kid you not. This is clearly how they roll in Aberystwyth.
So, without even attempting to nudge in any weak jokes involving the words “wool”, “eyes”, “pullovers” and “Welshmen shagging sheep stories”, please allow me to introduce a right rollicking little, er, clip produced by the, um, “BaaaStuds”…
Tell me you didn’t enjoy that. No, you can’t, can you? I have filed this under “Inspirational Videos”. It shows what can be done if your ambition in life extends further than sitting in front of the fire, sipping Ovaltine etc.
All you need is a whole field full of sheep, a bunch of LED lights and live somewhere really boring like Aberystwyth or Cape Town.