Are they kidding?

This is a photograph of the menu for the Brass Bell in Kalk Bay, Cape Town. It’s a place I always insist on going to for a drink whenever I’m in Cape Town, despite my Capetonian friends throwing their hands up in horror because only (mainly) tourists go there. And there is no worse fate for a Capetonian than being mistaken for a tourist. Particularly a Joburg tourist. No, death is infinitely more attractive.

But I always insist on going and always do, sometimes on my own. Because I like it, particularly on a nice day when the Southeaster isn’t howling through, and the waves are gently breaking on the shore and you can watch the fishing boats returning from a hard day’s … um … fishing. It’s a postcard scene and it really makes me feel like I’m on holiday.

But sometimes you have to wonder at the ingenuity – and utter cheek – of the ways some businesses take advantage of the tourist trade. You probably can’t read the type at the bottom right of the menu being held by my mate Seamus so I’ll spell it out for you.

It reads, “Copies of our menu for sale at R50.” I’m not kidding. Check it for yourself next time you’re down there. R50! I realise that for Wolfgang from Munich that only equates to about five euros, but still. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or applaud.

Instead I took a picture of it, and if any South Africans want a copy of it I’ll send you one for R2. Europeans, though, will have to pay two euros.

After all, we need the foreign exchange, apparently.

Sorry

I couldn't help myself.

Just got back from a few days in Kruger Park which, by the way, was fantastic. In spite of some people saying it's the wrong time of year, the bush is too thick after the rains, it's more like a zoo, etc.

It's not. It's brilliant. I can strongly recommend it. We saw tons of animals - including having two different herds of elephants sandwich us, and coming across two old male lions wandering down the middle of the road - and the weather was perfect. Cool and overcast. So the Kruger Park is fab. Go see for yourself.

But then we saw this. And I couldn't help myself. Had to snap the shot and post the blog. A bit like a sportswriter who, after our ginger-haired opening bowler has a brilliant game, has to write, "Polly has a cracker!!!".

And I've always thought that, in another life, I'd like to have been a sportswriter. Because in that profession, puns are deemed a badge of honour. As opposed to an invitation to have people sneer at you condescendingly.

So, yes. It's a pic of striped animals moving from one side of the road to the other.

Come on, you don't think I'm actually going to type it out for you, do you? I mean, the reader has to do some work, right?

Right.

Incandescence doesn't cut it.

I'm incandescent with rage. At least, I was until I realised that incandescence was really that paltry glow you get inside light bulbs. So now I'm 50 megaton thermo-nuclear explosion with rage.

Last Wednesday night I donated my old cellphone to the pixies that live under the counters of dimly lit, massively packed bars. It was the right thing to do.

On Thursday I dutifully blocked the SIM card and reported the phone donated. On Friday I arrived at the cellphone help shop - at noon - to get a new phone. Happily I was due for an upgrade anyway. I got a nice shiny new feature-packed wonder of technology that, as well as being able to separate hydrogen and oxygen from water and finding a cure for the common cold, can be used as a cellphone.

I also got a shiny new SIM card that allowed me to use the same phone number as before. How long before the SIM card was operational? Between four and five hours, the salesman/assistant/service provider told me, with the confidence of Japanese whaler fifty feet from his prey.

Cool, I answered. Naively, as it turns out.

Six hours later, still no activation. Called customer service and after a mere fifteen minutes got hold of a perky, helpful human being. Obviously an oversight, said the human, it'll be back on in an hour. At midnight I gave up and went to bed.

Saturday midday still no joy. Paid the help shop - in a different shopping centre - a visit at 4pm and explained the situation.

"Ah," said the guy. "They were supposed to activate it on two systems but only activated on one. It'll be back on in an hour and a half."

Said thanks through gritted teeth and went home. By 8pm still no joy (and how, pray, do you phone customer care when your SIM isn't working?), gave up and bought a starter pack.

Sunday, at noon, tried the SIM again and it was finally working. Which begs the question: Are cellphone companies chronologically challenged? Or just liars?

By the way, the cellphone company's name starts with a V and ends in an M. And has "odaco" in the middle.

South Africa's biggest supporter my arse.

What's it all about? Alfie, apparently.

Happy Valentine's Day. Yes, I know Valentine's Day is just a commercial invention aided and abetted by the greeting card, restaurant, flower growing and chocolate industries to squeeze that extra bit of cash out of us at a time of year when we're still gazing blankly at our credit card statements wondering how the hell we managed to spend the GDP of a small American country on booze, dinners and by-now-forgotten knick-knacks over December, but it could be worse. At least it's celebrating something good. Something warm and fuzzy, something that makes you feel like life's worth living even on the crappest days.

I mean, we can thank our lucky stars that the haemorrhoid treatment industry hasn't cottoned on to this concept. "Pile on the happiness this Haemorroids Day! Proudly brought to you by Preparation H!"

But I digress.

The other reason for writing this blog today is that I have been stung into action by my friend Goatville Girl. While I have been consumed by wading through the sludge of getting back into work mode during January, Goatville Girl has been a veritable Terry Pratchett of blogging. By which I mean prolific, as opposed to being obsessed with turtles and wizards. Which reinforces by earlier belief that she is clever and funny and hard working. And not just bored with trying to come up ideas for breath mints. But don't believe me; see for yourself at www.middlegoat.blogspot.com.

So I now resolve to try harder. Which is a good resolution to have on Valentine's Day.

And that's what it's all about. In a Michael Caine way, rather than a Jude Law way.