Deep End Ability


This ad’ appeared in a 1960 motor­cy­cling magazine…

I’m really con­fused. I have not the faintest idea what they’re marketing.

Cooking with VWs

Old VWs have enriched every facet of my life. They’ve con­tributed mean­ing­fully as trans­port, as social con­nec­tors, as edu­ca­tional instru­ments, as travel enablers and as accom­mo­da­tion, both at events & at the drive-in, to say the least.

Now I have dis­cov­ered a new form in which their cul­ture has come to assist me; as a cook­ing utensil.

My pan is rather warped, you see, which means that it both resists sta­tic place­ment and cooks woe­fully. How­ever, with the nifty addi­tion of a Bee­tle, both of these prob­lems are over­come, styl­ishly & affordably.

This handy tip was brought to you by Extreme Bach­e­lor; your online bach­e­lor­ing guide.

Beetle panholder


Vrooom! Vroooooooom! Vroom! Vrrrroooom! Vvroommm! Vrooooom! Vrooom! Vrooooom! Vroom! Vrrrroooooom! Vvroooooommm! Vrooom! Vrooom! Vrooom! Vroom! Vrrrrooooom! Vvroom­mmm! Vroooomm! Vrooom! Vrooooooooom! Vroom! Vrrrroooom! Vvroommm! Vrrooomm! Vrooom! Vroooooooomm! Vroom! Vrrrroooom! Vvroommm! Vrooom! Vrooom! Vroooooom! Vroom! Vrrrroooom! Vvroommm! Vrooom! Vrooom! Vrooooooooom! Vroom! Vrrrroooom! Vvroommm! Vrooom! Vrooom! Vrooooom! Vroom! Vrrrroooom! Vvroommm! Vrooom! …

That is the min­i­mum num­ber of throt­tle blips needed to get in or out of a park­ing bay, by a Cape Town Hond­naai Tjooner with a kief cut-coil sus­pen­sie & groot poephol xzorst.

What’s cookin’ at Nic’s place, Part 1

Life at Nic’s… :)

May I present, my (mal)nourishment store.

The Cream Soda bot­tle is water bot­tle #3.

Not shown, due to default rea­sons: Mrs. Ball’s chut­ney, salt, sugar, tea & rusks, i.e.: ‘the sta­ple sta­ble’.

…and all of those mil­lions of women spend a for­tune on fancy diets, try­ing to stay thin. Pshaw.

At first, there was Sur­vivor. Then came Big Brother. Now, it’s time for… Extreme Bach­e­lor.

In speaking of manners…

Peo­ple with progeny…

To avoid your spawn suf­fer­ing the dis­plea­sure of being told, oft & repeat­edly, to for­ni­cate thi­ne­selves else­where, please ensure that the first word & phrase that they use, and under­stand, is:

1. Please.
2. Thank you.

To the rest, who have yet to com­pre­hend the mag­ni­tudi­nous impli­ca­tions of these fun­da­men­tal responses, sit and rotate, you rude halfwits.

Preposterous Proportions

SizesI used to think that I was fairly smart, until I walked into a motor­cy­cle store, look­ing for a helmet…

The Hel­met Guy’ pro­filed me from two aisles away, declar­ing, con­fi­dently, that I was def­i­nitely (only) a Medium. Per­haps I shouldn’t have been day­dream­ing so much in class in my time at school…

The par­al­lel conun­drum in this equa­tion was that I had recently bought a set of gloves, for which I’d been fit­ted with a pair labelled as ‘XL’.

It wor­ries me so, in a philo­soph­i­cal man­ner, that I am so dimensionally-irrationally equipped in the bod­ily com­po­nent spectrum.

My jacket is an XXXL, but the para­chutist man­ner in which it envelopes my per­son whilst upon my motorised steed, calms and soothens my upset, greatly.

Given some fur­ther thought, my unmen­tion­ables are a ‘L’, my trousers are always half a foot too short, my shirts are sail-like in their span, in order to fit my neck suit­ably and I seem to wear a shoe size that has escaped the range of seem­ingly all known cobblers.

By all accounts, I should look like The Ele­phant Man.

Hap­pily though, I can report that I look as ‘nor­mal’ as any­one I’ve come across and at least sev­eral peo­ple and two delight­ful canines love me no end.

The State of a Nation…

An unruly Std. 3. pupil has been reported as con­tra­ven­ing the laws of decency in parliament.

Image cour­tesy of

Fear not though, for whilst from the out­side, Nkandla, the nation of the state, and home to the harem, the pub­lic pri­vate pool, sev­eral goats, a num­ber of pigs, some farm ani­mals, illit­er­acy, abject poverty & a clearly back­wards men­tal­ity, may point to the state of the nation as a dire one, it, like its more notable ances­tor, the once-formidable Berghof — now a lovely for­est, reclaimed by forces greater than it; where many ani­mals romp freely, frolic gayly and piss know­ingly — shall return from whence it came; the ground. With time & patience, comes a full bladder.