For years the Post Office was the epitome of government incompetence; filled with jobsworths who would as soon spit in your eye as give you the time of day. But, since privatisation, everything has changed. No only did a Post Office official run down the road to give Oom Krisjan back his ID book the other day – he had left it on the counter after signing for a parcel – but the now-separate Telkom has learned to see into the future.
A bloke from the Democratic Alliance wandered into the Dorsbult this week (so dazed he obviously didn’t know where he was) and shoved a fax into Lemmer’s hands.
The fax (dated April 8 2002) is from Telkom’s Reminder Service, and is addressed to the Democratic Party. It states:”To whom it may concern.
”I hereby wish to inform you that our records, to date, do not reflect a payment for the account that was due on 26 APRIL 2002. A payment of R3 525,87 is required on or before 09 APRIL 2002 before 13H00.
”Thank you for your cooperation in this regard. Jirre, these people are good.
Spot the mistake
Lemmer was not that surprised a couple of years ago that McDonald’s got things all wrong when their movie tie-in promotional material for 102 Dalmatians spelled the breed’s name as ”Dalmation”. McDonald’s is a company from a country whose president would not have a clue where Dalmatia is.
Oom Krisjan will skip the geography/history lesson on the Balkans and the Crusades, but he was disappointed to learn that Woolworths, a chain trusted for quality, is joining in this dumbing-down of our children.
On offer in the Woolworths kiddies’ department is a tracksuit top going for R79,95 promoting the ”Dalmation 102 Team”. No one at Woolies seems to have noticed the error despite the fact that other items and their big tie-in display spell Dalmatians correctly. In future insist on a spellcheck before you shell out R80 for a top.
Lemmer is not sure he can trust Mrs Woolworths to cater for his dinner parties any more.
On yer knees
Sometimes the best intentions go a little awry. Oom Krisjan remembers the story of the Scandinavian youth group that went on a team hug to France. The youngsters were a little puzzled when they were shunned – even if it was by the notoriously stand-offish French – until someone explained that it was linked to the happy Sida, c’est moi! emblazoned on their T-shirts. The acronym for their group and its affirmation translated as ”Aids, that’s me!”.
Something similar is happening to Thabo Mbeki. Lemmer is all for the president’s New Economic Partnership for African Development, but he wonders a little about its acronym, Nepad. Some might try to pass it off as a sports accessory, but to most people ”kneepad” is what you use when you’re down there scrubbing the floor – not a great image for a new Africa.
A stiff upper lip
The TV in the Dorsbult was tuned to the news channels on Tuesday as we watched the Brits do what they’ve done best this year: bury the Royals. Ag, we mustn’t be nasty, the oumagroote was not that much older than Oom Krisjan.
That famous stiff upper lip (even if Prince Charles keeps his above a loose, flabby chin, as Kenneth Willams would say) was as much in evidence in the streets as in the cathedral.
Evlyn Carpmael, who waited many hours to see the body lying in state and the funeral procession, told the BBC: ”I’ve been to almost every royal occasion. I saw King George VI’s funeral and even King George V’s when I was a little girl. I would have camped out on the pavement – I usually do – but at 76 I’m getting a bit old for that sort of thing. I did bring my Wrens uniform though.”
Crypto-Catholic
Tannie Annie, who had had a couple to toast the Queen Mum, nearly choked on her G&T when she saw last week?s edition of this august newspaper. When she had almost recovered herself, she pointed to an item in the Verbatim column quoting Marthinus van Schalkwyk as saying, ”We must find one another’s rhythms,” when describing the New National Party’s cooperation with the African National Congress.
”Granted that Kortbroek has done for the NP what most boers do for their wives,” she sputtered, ”in my worst nagmerries I could not conceive of him as a proponent of the rhythm method.”
Driving him dizzy
Life has its own problems for the local royal family. Various critical reports have come out in the past few weeks about the size of the overdraft maintained by the (English) Queen Mother. King Goodwill Zwelithini can surely empathise with the Windsors. He’s been taking a little flak recently about the amount his royal household is costing the KwaZulu-Natal taxpayer.
But Lemmer believes you must keep up appearances. Every tickey of the R424 725 used for the schooling of 13 royal children and R2,9-million for the renovation of one of the king’s many homes is got back many times over, Oom Krisjan is convinced, by the crowds flocking to see our version of all that English pageantry.
Also, not so long ago the ANC caused a commotion about the king’s arrival at the official opening of the provincial legislature in a ”borrowed old jalopy”. To rectify this image, King Goodwill has recently taken delivery of a R1,8-million armoured Mercedes Benz S500.
Now, Oom Krisjan knows that when a man gets a new set of wheels, the wife is sure to start dropping hints that her car, too, needs an upgrade. This king has special problems as there is more than one royal wife. Those who query the R458 137 that provincial Premier Lionel Mtshali said was used to buy five vehicles for King Goodwill’s queens have forgotten the difficulties of keeping one woman happy, never mind five. It’s not that the dames all managed to crash their cars together – it’s just not worth having all royal privileges withdrawn by showing favouritism among the queens.
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