Throw Me A Frickin’ Teaspoon


About three petrol-price-hikes back I experienced a premature mid-life crisis. I flicked my hair the other way, became a Buddhist for 12 minutes, and deleted MXit because I love jackfruit. In the inconsequential rage session that followed I may have said something insensitive:

“Friend”: Nobody likes you!
Naven: No! Everybody doesn’t like you! They all wish you were a blonde model, locked in a bathroom, with your paranoid paralympian boyfriend waiting outside, holding a gun, on Valentine’s Day.

Yes yes, I know. That’s a very sore topic. Some of us want Oscar to be innocent, some want him to burn at the stake. Some want to be interrogated by Barry Roux in a damp cellar just because he’s so damn good at it. If you totally click on his name in the last sentence there, you can learn all about him in song.

It’s disheartening to see one of the most inspirational things to come out of this third world gem, be tarnished by homicide. So you’d have to be rather cynical to hope he’s convicted. On the other hand/claw, would you condone murder as justifiable to protect yourself from burglary? Yes? Chances are you play Grand Theft Auto and like the feeling of hot wax on your bare feet. Shame, prison’s no place for pretty white boys.

I know you’ve been waiting months for “pretty white boy” to be used in a sentence. You’re welcome. There used to be this warm feeling not dissimilar to heartburn every time you saw the Bladerunner embarrass able-bodied athletes with his peg legs. Most of us stopped running at all after that. Os ran for us all. For you, Fat Man. For you, Rhino Poacher. For you, Hipster. For Mazibuko, the Pipe Wrench Salesman. For Emile, the Bacon Evangelist. For Awari, the Nigerian Student Drug Dealer. For Mirriam, Tumi and Venesh from the Post Office. For everyone from the fresh produce aisle at Checkers. Show some support, will you?

Unfortunately not everyone is gifted with superior athletic prowess and great hair. I, for example, have embraced a more entrepreneurial outlook and turned to small business for security. Yes, if you’re a party animal looking for a good time, look no further than me to provide you with all the substances you need to abuse. Shout for the following:


While stocks last, of course. Call me. We’ll meet under the stairs. I’ll be the nervous looking one.

As you can gather from the products available, the target market is mainly witty, creative, politically-progressive young people burdened with many emotions and feelings and struggling to be understood in the modern context. Please be a hipster with money, please be a hipster with money.


I have no idea what I’m saying. To be honest, I got distracted by a cobweb six minutes ago and that was a self-induced hallucination thing that the doctor said happens sometimes. Also, often recently I’ve been systematically stealing teaspoons from work. Unlike when I used to be into lighters, I’ve refrained from calling it petty theft or even kleptomania. I’d like to think that it’s my subconscious preparing for a global resource scramble. Teaspoons will have hundreds of uses in a post-apocalyptic world. They can be used to make telescopes, Windmill spanners, tank valves and diabetic shoes. A humble teaspoon can be fashioned into a Jaws of Life or another spoon with greater purpose even. Don’t even get me started on it’s military applications.

Okay. I’m sorry I bored you and drew your attention away from that scar running down your back. Coincidently, if you’re a girl and you fell asleep, don’t be surprised. I have put more girls to sleep than the Sugar Cane Killer.

As the French say, “Go away”

Look, a thing

Remember the horse meat saga? It blew over quite quick. I would eat a horse. Why not? If tiny men can ride a horse with other tiny men riding horses, surrounded by over-dressed adulteresses, in a stadium that smells like dead pigeons, then why can’t we eat a horse? There’s worse ways horses go. If one lost the aforementioned race, even though it was odds on (whatever that means), then everybody knows the jockey throws a fit, mocks the horse’s ancestry and then shoots it so it’s hooves can be used to make glue for the homeless to become addicted to. Fast fact: I was asked to go for jockey training once but then I got fat.

So it plagued Europe primarily that people where unknowingly eating the car-before-the-car-was-invented. But there’s worse things that have swept over Europe – like BBM, STDs and Catholicism. Just because you can ride a horse doesn’t mean you can’t eat it. You could ride a sheep if you wanted to. It’s on my bucket list.

It's just more horse to love
It’s just more horse to love

I think people generally have an incessant desire to make a fuss. Maybe you’re entitled to. If there was nothing to complain about we’d be very bored. You would hear some guy say, “Sunshine?! Oh no! We had that yesterday! Where’s the variety?” Then a tsunami hits Southeast Asia and his new issue becomes the inconsistency of Premier League refereeing. That maybe is the essence of it. It serves as a distraction from more relevant issues.

Take the Vatican for example. Generally nobody cares who the Pope is. Catholics account for about 1.2 billion people on Earth and we all know most of them favor binge drinking instead of fawning over the Pope. Yet there was much drama and anxiety over his successor. As if there is significant change as result of his appointment. Note: If the new guy does go mad with power, we’ll have to take the punk down. I have read all Dan Brown’s books and spent a whole mid-morning making a foolproof contingency plan (Operation: A New Pope).

The (really) old guy decided to retire being an icon of religious benefit, and pass the 9 billion carat gold ring on to some other guy who, from what I’ve seen, and for lack of a better word, seems very “protestant” (and you thought they all died out in that classified meteor strike incident two winters ago). Really, all this doesn’t affect you there on the atomic level. Nonetheless you fret as if you ran out of washing powder mid-month.

This job offered better benefits, and subordinates were more loyal
This job offered better benefits, and the staff were more loyal

So while our eyes sparkle at all the hollywood-esque glamor happening at the induction gala for the new Pope, we get to forget about all the death threats and marriage proposals we haven’t had time to deal with. The athlete’s foot outbreak, corrugated-iron fetishes and vivid, vulgar sexual innuendos in music all take a back seat. The next day at work you’ll spend the entire morning relating the ceremony details to your colleague instead of working. All the conspiracy theories, detailed review of Rihanna and Bon Jovi’s tribute to the man, what was Taylor Swift seen doing in the Pope’s car, who designed his robe to color-block so well, and everything else you know. And you’ll take the entire afternoon off to forward the pictures of the event to everyone in your email address book.

I wonder if the beggar at the traffic light knows our President let his friends, the Guptas, land their private jets at a military base. Does he care? I will ask him the next time. I didn’t have time this morning because the lights changed quick. He only had time to ask, “Two rand for bread?”, and I just gave him 4 rand and told him to get me a loaf too. I don’t know where he finds such bargains.

If I was President and my homies had a jet then sure, they can land wherever they want
If I was President and my homies had a jet then sure, they can land wherever they want

Justin Bieber came to South Africa to perform whatever the hell he performs – live calligraphy or something. I hear punks stole ticket money from the Cape Town stadium office. About 3.5 million was reportedly taken. How will JB manage without his weekly allowance? He’ll know better than to be handsome in South Africa again. However, he did approve of the high quality of our street marijuana. Good on the lad.

Can you blame them? He's got swag
Can you blame them? He’s got swag

Ah, but the theory looms that his presence in the country was only to distract the masses from the passing of the National Secrecy Bill, which entitles Government to respond with a swift “Your mother” whenever anyone inquires about national affairs. My strategically placed underpaid sources confirm that Zuma is a big fan of Justin and his ability to induce epilepsy in teenage girls. Fortunately, I couldn’t afford tickets to see JB so I noticed the Bill and can inform you now when it’s too late. Not like you or me knowing can have any impact on anything.

There’s an argument in here somewhere. A lot of what concerns us is not our concern. A large bulk of it is distraction. Distraction from your issues; Where is your daughter? Why is she pouting on a motorcycle in her profile picture? Why does my son smell like butter milk? Is it a symptom of a medical condition that his jeans hang around his knees? Why is my husband getting fatter? Why do I have a husband -I’m straight?

You should never be bored. You have plenty to complain to your pastor about already. If you leave it to go and see what’s going on everywhere else, it’s only going to accumulate and someday when you come home from spending the entire day researching whether or not Nicki Minaj is a man on the internet, it’s going to manifest in some Gob Monster that greets you at the front door and says, “Hello! I’m Problems and you’re my dad!”

Hi Pa
Hi Pa

Okay bye.