Issues dude. Issues.
Womble White
This cheeky young thing is made in the age old tradition of displaced gypsies. Best served defrosted, the Womble White is revered for its chewy texture and almost diabolical resemblance to Cleopatra’s nose.
The other day I considered dog nipples.
I took the Nice Dog Lady out of quarantine, introduced her to my friends in good faith that she was ready and she decided that after dinner was the perfect time to mention that she had felt dog nipples. I’m wondering if it’s an English tradition that I’ve missed.
That being said, after the blank stares were replaced by nervous coughing and offers to make tea, I thought about some of the things that I’ve felt in my time. The list extended to the inside of an impala, a soggy bread-roll in my trouser pocket and a sheep aorta wrapped around my index finger as a kind of organic ringlet.
Pretty standard really.
There was also the snot streak from a six year Madagascan boy that flung itself in a wide arc across my forearm. That was special too. I’ve also stood barefoot in more poo than I can care to mention. Can you spell suppository? I am not proud.
So why should the thought of touching dog nipples arise a sedimentary response in different people. According to Python [1], wolf-nipple chips were a Roman delicacy. Dog-breeders alike often have to rub the milk clots out of canine-cans so that the puppies don’t choke.
You don’t have to like it but you do have to try it. At least once.
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[1] that bastion of historical accuracy
Possibly Pinotage
A modest yet unpretentious little wine, so much so that we don’t actually know what is in it. The vat was left open for a while but we’re almost positive the cat never went near it.
A strong silent type, it is best enjoyed with lumps of rock salt, loud whistling and a total lack of regard for all things Gaellic. Possibly Pinotage has been proudly banned in three provinces, one hotel parking-lot, being mentioned at Communion, by the French and by my parents.
Bottoms Up! Barolo
With a bouquet like barrel-fermented botulism, this bottle should be held away from open flames and kept out of direct sunlight.
Goes well with: dodgy prawns, German cuisine involving sausages, certain cheeses, stagnant pond water, most beans, really old fruit, lark’s vomit, milk that’s been left out, a carcass with vultures on it, stewed prunes, East Cape Polony or anything cooked by people with bones in their hair.
This wine is not for sissies.
Shit-Faced Shiraz
This flippant little number possesses an initial, almost corpulent level of chalky undertones, yet manages to finish with a witty bouquet of cardamom and tooth-paste. The syrupy aftertaste can be likened to any of the finest colas while the fleshy and flabby components form a tag team of gristled texture that will strip the snot from your uvula. Despite these lighter elements, the alcohol level is top-notch and we highly recommend you enjoy it plain or out of a paper bag.
Praise for Shit-Faced Shiraz:
“It’s like looking into the eye of a duck and sucking the fluids from its beak”
Modderdam Malbec
A chance union of two cultivars that we know can only improve with age. However, the subtle light-green radioactive glow should decay in 20 to 100 years making it less appealing to children.
Specially decaffeinated by the blistered hands of mine-workers by passing it through a hessian sack, Modderdam Malbec is the loving culmination of a protracted court battle to reintroduce the dop stelsel into our labour camps.
Sometimes in life you’re just not a winner.
Being that time of year again, every blog worth their salt in this fine, tasteful and highly remarkable corner of the internet is trying to get nominated for the 2009 Blog Awards.
I’ve just read the rules. The bit that frightens me most is the first prize:
Apart from the honour of being the best, the winner of the Best overall South African blog will win a purse of 2009 South African cents (R20.09).
Occasionally I am right.
Especially when it comes to the hard questions like butter vs margarine.
The one gives you cancer, the other clogs your arteries. The one tortures flowers, the other gives cows something to moo about. The one makes you fat, the other makes you dance on the beach with your family, your dog and the Heart Foundation.
Ultimately, though, the one is yellow and the other is only yellow because the marketing people wisely considered not selling margarine as a tub of black, soggy soot. This is only one of the benefits that a first-class education has bestowed on the world.
I’ve been giving some more thought to this quandary.
Zeno was very clearly an under-achiever, came left with girls and suffered from premature balding. This latter point is easily shown in his theory about the hair that never quite makes its destination.
None of this explains the tortoise though and how it fits in to the bigger picture. I can only assume he used one as some kind of hat.
That he was an under-achiever is easily understood. His paradox is riddle with the inability to reach the goal post, something he managed to justify metaphorically. This genius is lamentable and I can only wish that I had thought of using it for myself at school. It certainly applies quite well to:
Admittedly that is all the thought I’ve given the matter. It wasn’t really that interesting to begin with.
<Insert Name Here> has a name inserted.
It is quite a seemingly difficult task choosing a name for your first born child but the Parental Units have made a decision.
<Sienna>
Or, given modern spellings, the options could range from: Psienna, Seehenna, Psyena, Seyena, Ciena, Siennah, etc. They did not specify the spelling and I naturally assumed that there might be a silent P in there somewhere.
