Life is such a bitch these days, one hardly finds time to break bread and quaff a few beers with friends.
Life is such a bitch these days, one hardly finds time to break bread and quaff a few beers with friends.
So a few weeks ago, during the funeral of that doyen of journalism, Doc "Ol' Carcass" Bikitsha, I had the occasion to meet with some old buddies I haven't seen in ages.
I have never seen so many people with ink-stained fingers in one place and the excitement of meeting fellow journos was overwhelming.
Among these, was Sunday Times columnist and senior staffer, Fred Khumalo. After exchanging pleasantries, I sucked up to him and told him that his column is the first thing I read on Sundays.
Sorry old bud, I lied. I've repeated this lie so many times it has become my opening gambit when I meet fellow members of the Fourth Estate.
I do it every second week when colleague, Themba Molefe, produces his bi-weekly Slice of Life.
On a weekly basis, I repeat the lie to Charles Mogale who writes Flipside for Sowetanon Wednesdays.
During an after theatre dinner outside the Drury Lane Theatre in West End, London, after watching Miss Saigon, I grovelled before Barry Ronge and, with admiration in my eyes, told him his weekly column is the first thing I read in the Sunday Times. I'll probably say the same to David Bullard if I ever happen to meet him.
The thing is, all these people are beautiful writers whose work often gives me goosebumps. They are journos I greatly admire.
But they come second to my all-time favourite feature of the print media - the comic strips.
Before I read any Khumalo or Bullard, I go to the comic section where I'm indulged by the likes of Andy Capp, who is a caricature of yours truly.
Andy Capp and I are kindred spirits. Like him, I can't change a light bulb or connect a VCR.
Technophobia?
All these mundane things are left to the woman who wakes up next to me every morning.
Then of course there's that all-conquering buccaneer called Hagar the Horrible.
Whenever he is full of piss and vinegar he wages wars against foreign countries.
But check this classic by Lucky the other day: "Education is ridiculous.
"They should just embed a microchip and upload what you need to know in seconds. I mean, the technology exists."
Now that's a brainwave from a teenage terror.
Someone bring me my slippers and mug of beer!
There's a game of soccer on the small screen.
Forgive me Gents, I read the funnies first
Life is such a bitch these days, one hardly finds time to break bread and quaff a few beers with friends.
Life is such a bitch these days, one hardly finds time to break bread and quaff a few beers with friends.
So a few weeks ago, during the funeral of that doyen of journalism, Doc "Ol' Carcass" Bikitsha, I had the occasion to meet with some old buddies I haven't seen in ages.
I have never seen so many people with ink-stained fingers in one place and the excitement of meeting fellow journos was overwhelming.
Among these, was Sunday Times columnist and senior staffer, Fred Khumalo. After exchanging pleasantries, I sucked up to him and told him that his column is the first thing I read on Sundays.
Sorry old bud, I lied. I've repeated this lie so many times it has become my opening gambit when I meet fellow members of the Fourth Estate.
I do it every second week when colleague, Themba Molefe, produces his bi-weekly Slice of Life.
On a weekly basis, I repeat the lie to Charles Mogale who writes Flipside for Sowetanon Wednesdays.
During an after theatre dinner outside the Drury Lane Theatre in West End, London, after watching Miss Saigon, I grovelled before Barry Ronge and, with admiration in my eyes, told him his weekly column is the first thing I read in the Sunday Times. I'll probably say the same to David Bullard if I ever happen to meet him.
The thing is, all these people are beautiful writers whose work often gives me goosebumps. They are journos I greatly admire.
But they come second to my all-time favourite feature of the print media - the comic strips.
Before I read any Khumalo or Bullard, I go to the comic section where I'm indulged by the likes of Andy Capp, who is a caricature of yours truly.
Andy Capp and I are kindred spirits. Like him, I can't change a light bulb or connect a VCR.
Technophobia?
All these mundane things are left to the woman who wakes up next to me every morning.
Then of course there's that all-conquering buccaneer called Hagar the Horrible.
Whenever he is full of piss and vinegar he wages wars against foreign countries.
But check this classic by Lucky the other day: "Education is ridiculous.
"They should just embed a microchip and upload what you need to know in seconds. I mean, the technology exists."
Now that's a brainwave from a teenage terror.
Someone bring me my slippers and mug of beer!
There's a game of soccer on the small screen.