In South Africa we live in HEAVEN...

We HEAVEN got petrol, we HEAVEN got wek, we HEAVEN got a cure for eds, we HEAVEN got honest polteeshuns, we HEAVEN got honest pleesmen, we HEAVEN got lektriek and we HEAVEN got brite fewcha, And we HEAVEN got an ansa to de problems eida... Eish!!

Ok, so now that I sort of have some time...

I'm going to bore you with what I've been up to for the last week or so. I'll start on Friday last week, which turned out to be a long, hard, day. It was Steph's birthday (45 years young in man-speak, or 21 in woman-speak) and she'd told me (on numerous occasions previously) that all she wanted as a gift was for me to paint the bedroom (something I'd been threatening to do for a while as it's one of my renovation projects anyway). I had also started a week prior to that, organising a surprise party for her, inviting the "usual suspects" as well as a few other good friends (Max and Princess, Paulo and Teresa). All was set for it, I had planned my day almost down to the last minute, as I usually do. On the Wednesday, I'd gone to our local Pick'n'Pay (Tesco's in the UK) and ordered three large platters of snacks (fucked if I was going to stand and make up loads of snacky sandwichy things myself) and made a list of everything else I needed to buy like crisps, dips, peanuts, desserts, that sort of stuff. I was expecting about 14 or 15 adults and a few rugrats. Anyway, come Friday morning, I'm up reasonably early (7am) and dressed without showering as I usually do (alarm bell number 1 for Steph). I have a cup of coffee, a slice of toast (alarm bell number 2 as I don't usually have breakfast) and I hover around between feeding the dogs, watching Sky News and wandering in and out of the kitchen where Steph is preparing her lunch for work (alarm bell number 3 as I usually fire up the laptop around 8am if I'm working from home). I had anticipated starting the bedroom at around 8am, or 8h15 at the latest, but Steph was slower in getting out of the house than usual and I finally got going just short of 9h30. A quick recalculation of the schedule in my mind and I got into the garage for some tools. Talk about "Extreme Makeover - Bedroom"...which is exactly what it was. When I finished at 15h30, I had: - Removed the curtains from the rails and packed them onto the study floor - Packed all the bedding onto the study floor in a knotted bundle - Packed all the crap from under the bed into the cupboards where it should have been in the first place - Moved the chest of drawers into the passage outside the room - Shouted at Duke, barking at the passing people, to "shut the fuck up while you can still do so voluntarily" - Moved the two large bedside tables into the main-en-suite bathroom - Dismantled the bed and stacked it against the bedroom cupboard - Removed the artwork from the walls - Filled the holes in the walls - Filled the gaps between the cornice and walls with acrylic cement - Found the tins of paint (that we'd bought about a year earlier) in the garage cupboard - Mixed the paint with the new whisk that I'd bought on Wednesday (just attach it to a variable speed drill and it's like working in a paint shop) - Found a substitute colour for the ceiling as one of the smaller tins we had bought had disappeared - Painted a thick coat on the cornice so that I would only have to do it once - Rolled two coats on the ceiling - Painted, with a brush, around the window and door frames - Rolled on two coats of paint on the walls (without any noticeable splashes on the carpet) - Got rid of all the paint materials and tools - Vaccuumed the carpet - Reverse-engineered the bedroom furniture and reassembled the whole lot I then got in the car, unwashed except for my hands, and went and picked up the snacks and bought the other goodies and some coldrink, beer and scotch. With a bit of difficulty in getting the snack platters back to the house in the Ranger (trying to drive with one hand while stopping them from sliding all over the place in the back), I eventually got home and unpacked the lot at which time Steph comes home and says "Ok, what's going on? Where's the dinner you're supposed to be cooking for me?" She then sees the platters on the table, which I'd moved against the wall to open up the floor and says "Oh fuck, you've arranged a party." "Yes dear, I say" and she immediately goes into catering mode as I "hadn't thought about the kids" that were coming. Actually I had, and if they weren't allowed to drink beer or scotch, too bad. There was plenty of coldrink and I'd asked everyone to only bring their alcoholic drinks along. Everyone was under strict orders not to bring a gift as Steph didn't want any. Into the kitchen went Steph, preparing a large pot of homemade soup, especially for the kids and whomever hadn't had time to have dinner and wouldn't be sated by the snacks. I set about tidying up the place, shoving more junk into cupboards and behind couches, bringing in some firewood for when I would be told to show off the new fireplace. Once I was satisfied that everything was ready, around 18h30, I went for the S,S,S,S,S treatment (shit, shower, shampoo, shave, shumshing to eat - only S that was missing from that lot was Shag, but then there wasn't much time before people were supposed to arrive. It would have to wait.) About ten minutes after I get dressed and my first drink poured, Paulo and Teresa arrive...early for a change. Then it was like a floodgate opening with everyone else arriving within a space of 10 minutes...brilliant, cos then I didn't have to keep running in and out of the house to open the gate. As is usual with our group of friends, everyone brought Steph a gift and she appreciates every one of them. We had a great time, great music in the background, a load of drinks floating around (judging by the floor the following morning) and a load of catching-up conversation as we had pretty much ignored our friends since starting the building of the lounge. Everyone was holed up inside the house, except for the smokers who ventured outside on occasion, as it is still winter here and pretty chilly at night. The fireplace was a huge hit, with a few friends stating that they either wish they had one, or were going to install one. Steph took a few of the ladies in to look at the newly-painted room, and all were suitably impressed at how quickly it had all gone. I had to apologise to a few of the guys who told me that they would now be expected to perform the same miracle in their own homes. By around 23h00, the die-hards were the only ones left and we were all huddled around the fireplace, onto the single malt scotch for a few of us, the rest sticking to their red wine or beer. I brought out the absynthe for a couple of the ladies who professed to it being quite nice (no, Cuzzin, I didn't tell them the alcohol content) and who were interested when it turned white after pouring a little water into it. Steph apparently told everyone, at odd occasions through the night, that she had never seen me so tired. Little fuckin' wonder, considering what I'd been through that day. In all honesty, I can't say that I'd felt that physically tired in a long time...mentally tired, yes, as my job consists of sitting behind a laptop or in meetings, but not physically. Just short of midnight, the last of the guests leave and we start tidying up. Only clearing away the bigger stuff, I tell Steph to leave the floor for morning. At around 10am, I finally decide to clamber out of bed as I was alone anyway. Staggering through to the kitchen for coffee, I find a note that Steph had left for me. She'd taken the dogs to the vet for booster injections and a joyride in the Ranger. No mention of the floor, but I see that it hasn't been mopped. Ah fuckit, I think to myself and find the mop and bucket outside the back door. Halfway through the clean, Steph and the dogs arrive home and she makes some French Toast for breakfast, my favourite. Another cup of coffee, and I feel totally useless for the day. Steph's off to meet up with some friends, so she leaves me to vegetate on the couch watching the Springboks get an absolute fuckin' hiding (49 - 0) from the Aussies. I end up dozing off on the couch trying to get rid of a mild headache (not sure what that was from :-) Saturday evening passed uneventfully, and we had a nice quiet evening. On Sunday morning, we were up reasonably early (8am) having breakfast on the patio, watching and listening to the birds on the feeders. We then had to go off to the airport to meet some other friends (ex-pats) who had arrived the week before from Switzerland and had been spending the last week with family in Port Elizabeth. They were en route to Mauritius for a week and, when we'd met them the Friday they'd arrived, we'd brought some of their unneeded luggage back to the house to keep for them. Today, we had to exchange cases so that they could take their "warm weather holiday" gear with them and leave the "cold weather holiday" suitcases with us at the house. They arrive back this coming Saturday, will stay with us for the night and we'll have a lunch for some of their old friends on Sunday before dropping them back at the airport on Sunday evening for their flight home. Back to the boring story...At about 12h30, Scott and Trevor arrive at the house as we'd arranged to go to the Glasgow Rangers / Mamelodi Sundowns football match. The 'Gers were on a short pre-season tour and, little known to me, had also played the previous day in Bloemfontein, about 350km from Johannesburg. They'd won that game, against Cosmos, two goals to one, and we were expecting the same result for the Joburg game. Ha fuckin' ha...'Downs were all over Rangers, who were playing in an unusual change strip of white shirts and red shorts, obviously not having had the time to wash the blue strip from the night before. In the end, Rangers lost two nil, and a deserved beating it was too. We hadn't a fuckin' clue, giving away a blatant penalty in the 20th minute right in front of the referee, and a second goal about 5mins into the second half. Sundowns could have scored a few more, as they were catching us with the long cross from the right wing to the centre, every time. It almost looked like Rangers had fielded a team of kids, judging by the size of the players and the youthful look on their faces. What made the game worse was the fact that the organisers had decided not to sell beer in the stadium, or even on the premises. We were gobsmacked. Personally, yet another reason not to have the World Cup here in 2010. Can you imagine getting tens of thousands of thirsty football fans here and telling them "sorry, no beer"?? There'll be a fuckin' riot to pale the Sharpeville riots of the 70's into insignificance and we'll have to declare another public holiday because of it. And that's just because of the riots from the Scots and Irish supporters, never mind the rest. So, three 500ml Cokes later, bladder bursting, and with Aberdeen (also on tour with Rangers) also getting a 2 - 0 beating from Cosmos, we get back in the car and head home. A good, though alcohol-free, day at the ballgame. What's left of the weekend passes seated in front of the telly and Monday rolls around too soon again. Quite a weekend, huh?? The only thing interesting thats happened through the week, so far (and aside from the sadness of Pandora's passing), is that yesterday I told my boss (one of them anyway, I actually have three) that I'm fed up doing what I'm doing for the pissy little salary that I get every month. I'm doing the job of a Principal Consultant (basically developing the consulting business in a sales role) which is a grade higher than I am at the moment and a higher salary level. I also found out my salary is toward the bottom of my grade's range, and the 3% increase I got this year (again) for the amount of effort I'm putting in (as a "2 performer", which is only beaten by a "1 performer"), doesn't help my morale. I also had an internal interview with the manager of our Systems and Technology Group for a position he has open, and by the sounds of things, he wants me to start tomorrow. Good news for me, cos I can now tell my manager (the one I had the discussion with) that I could be outta there before he can say "revenue", which is all he fuckin' thinks about. The STG manager is someone I would far rather work with, having worked for him before. Essentially, the new job will be starting up a new training section for the STG division, getting in some skills to perform technical education for clients and IBMers, and maybe even doing some lecturing myself. Not something I can do at present, as my technical skills need refreshing, but I have a strong technical background and can do some quick catch-up. It'll be quite a challenge, but I'm up to it after 5yrs of consulting. So...now that you all know what I've been up to, don't you wish I would write more often and not have to write these novels? Hope everyone is well...

Not much to smile about...

in the Douglas family today... Mum's faithful little Fox Terrier, Pandora, was "put to sleep" this morning. In a joint decision taken by mum and dad, it was decided to put her out of her misery. Pandora was almost 17 human years old, had a form of canine Alzheimer's Disease, and just wasn't as mobile and alert as she will be remembered as being. Naturally, the folks are cut up about it and Steph and I feel their sadness too, as we currently have four of our own animals, and have buried a few in our short number of years together. It's always a sad occasion, and this is no different, even if it is justified as being humane. Pandora now has her own private place under the big tree in the front garden where she can continue to chase the monkeys away from the birdseed. RIP, old girl...

On the lighter side of SA...

Barry Hilton is one of SA's best comedians. I saw him in a show a few years ago and can still remember being stitched up in my seat with laughter. Here's one of his skits... Dof people should have to wear signs that just say, "I'M DOF." (SA slang for stupid) That way you wouldn't rely on them, would you? You wouldn't ask them anything. It would be like, "Excuse me... oops, never mind. Didn't see your sign." It's like before my boeta and I moved. Our house was full of boxes and there was a Pickfords truck in our driveway. My neighbor comes over and choons, "Hey, you moving?" "Noooit bru. We just pack our stuff up once or twice a week to see how many boxes it takes. Here's your sign!" A couple of months ago I went fishing with a mate of mine, we pulled his boat into the ramp, I lifted up this big whiting and this idiot on the ramp goes, "Hey, you catch all those fish?" "Nooit cuzzi. Talked 'em into giving up. Here's your sign." I was watching one of those animal shows on the Discovery Channel. There was a guy inventing a shark bite suit. And there's only one way to test it. "Alright Jimmy, you got that shark suit on, it looks good... They want you to jump into this pool of sharks, and you tell us if it hurts when they bite you." "Well, all right, but hold my sign. I don't wanna lose it". Last time I had a flat tyre, I pulled my car into a petrol station. The 'pomp jockey' walks out, looks at my car, looks at me, and I SWEAR he choons, "Tyre go flat?" I couldn't resist. I said, "Nooit Baba. I was driving around and those other three just swelled up on me. Here's your sign." I was trying to sell my 'jammie' about a year ago. A guy came over to the house and drove the car around for about 45 minutes. We get back to the house, he gets out of the car, reaches down and grabs the exhaust pipe, then says, "Jislaaik, that's hot!" See? If he'd been wearing his sign, I could have stopped him! I learned to drive an 18 wheeler in my days in the 'mag'. Wouldn't you know I misjudged the height of a bridge. The truck got stuck and I couldn't get it out no matter how I tried. I radioed in for help and eventually a local cop shows up to take the report. He went through his basic questioning... ok.. no problem. I thought sure he was clear of needing a sign...until he asked "So..is your truck stuck?" I couldn't help myself. I looked at him, looked back at the rig and then back to him took my sign off and chooned, "No. I'm delivering a bridge. Here's your sign." I stayed late at work one night and a co-worker looked at me and chooned, "Are you still here?" I replied, "No. I left about 10 minutes ago. Here's your sign." Anybody you know in need of a sign today? Send this to all your chinas! The next time someone says something dof, you can ask them: "Where's your sign?"

An Enemy of the State? Me? Possibly...

or at least I might just be, once any South African football fans read this posting. I don't actually have the time to write this, but it all has to do with an article in the local newspaper, The Sun, and other reports this morning. I've wanted to write a piece debating the issue of whether or not the 2010 World Cup should be held in SA. The tabloids pre-empted my posting, so I thought I'd better give it an airing. As you can read from my rantings below, I think not....read on... The reports are that FIFA was supposedly considering (which they have denied in other reports) pulling the plug on the 2010 World Cup due to be held in SA, citing lack of infrastructure (particularly around public transport), lack of accommodation, crime levels, and the HIV pandemic. It is also reported that the festival should be given to Australia as the next choice of hosts. Ask any green-and-gold-blooded South African (not me, I'm blue-blooded Scots) and it all smacks of a smear-campaign by Australia (typical of the rivalry between the two countries at rugby level), I know, but I believe there is a strong case in supporting giving it to the Aussies. Let's start with the list of reasons given by the reports, listed in reverse order for emphasis: 4. Accommodation - This, I believe, is one of the lesser points of concern around the whole WC. SA successfully hosted the 1995 Rugby World Cup and had thousands of overseas visitors for the event. Some were lucky enough to get hotel rooms and tour packages, but other more adventurous fans actually took to the web in search of rooms to rent in private houses. The SA public in the cities that hosted games made an absolute fortune in renting out their sparerooms and homes for the event. Therefore, I say, accommodation will not be an issue (hhmmmm...wonder if we can get a couple of those scantily-clad Brazillian ladies upstairs?) 3. The HIV Pandemic - Undoubtedly, a huge concern for the world, never mind only SA. The country has a very high infection rate (I forget the actual statistics, but it's somewhere around 50% of the population, I believe. Not the highest in Africa, but getting there). And in four years time, when the WC is due to be held, who knows what the infection rate will be. A means for keeping the infection rate down a bit over the duration of the tournament would be for the Pomms, some of whom I believe like "a little dark meat now and then" (it's in quotes, Stuart, as I've heard it being used by an Englishman before) is to keep their fuckin' dicks in their shorts!! Somehow, not a compelling reason to take the WC away on its own, but definately a reason for concern. 2. Third World Transport System - In my opinion, this is a top reason and shold be joint number one of this list, but to avoid confusion and using decimal points, it gets second place. The public transport system here is not only a joke, it is also almost non-existent. The newspaper reports called it "third world" and that's the funny part of it. I've been to other parts of Africa, considered third world by the rest of the planet, that had better transport systems than we have here. Public transport in SA consists of fiercely inadequately bussed routes, some of which go nowhere near the main business centres (or the stadiums, for that matter) and that run on timetables that make Edinburgh's busses seem as though there's five running each second to your very destination. The other "formal" mode of transport is the minibus taxi. Find just one of these that is not a deathtrap and I'll guarantee you it's just been stolen from some executive transport company guy who hasn't yet had a chance to report it stolen. Reports in the past have said that some of these things run on "cardboard for brakes", have "vice grips in place of steering wheels" and have more cracks in their windows than a busload of butt-flashing Glaswegian teenagers (that's my observation). These things have a daily occurrence of deaths and injury, mostly to the passengers and not the drivers, as well as innocent drivers and passengers in other vehicles. A recent report stated that there was a taxi stopped for speeding on a highway, which was registered to carry 12 people, but had 24 crammed into it. (The Queen song "Death on Two Legs" comes to mind...). The picture above shows 13 adults, 1 child and 1 billy-goat standing outside the taxi (probably waiting for another to come along as this one had broken down next to the road). In another recent case, 13 teachers were killed when their bus went off the road. The condition of the roads are not to blame for the deaths as we have some of the best tar I've ever driven on...it's the fuckwit drivers, as can be seen by the cartoon attached below (from the Business Day, without their permission). Minibus taxi drivers in SA are the worst drivers in the world. They have an absolute and total disregard for any other road user except another minibus driver. They speed on all roads, bobbing and weaving in between peak-hour traffic, cutting other road users off at any and all times they can. They drive in lines in the emergency lanes of motorways (I once counted 26 of them in convoy in the emergency lane on the M1, at full speed, with not a cop in sight). They jump red traffic lights at any and all occasion, regardless of whether there is oncoming traffic in the opposite direction, especially when said traffic is queueing up on the exit from the intersection as it's then easier to squeeze into the jam. In the event of a traffic jam going in the same direction as they are, they will move into the oncoming traffic lane and scream along at full speed until an oncoming car forces them to consider getting back onto their own side, not even bothering to ask the offended driver, not even bothering to look into the said driver's eyes to see the hate he has for the fucker. At a T-junction, they will make it look like they are turning off to the left at the intersection only to take the intersection, make an illegal turn into the traffic coming out of the incoming flow around the islands and back into their original flow, thereby bypassing having to wait in the queue to get through the traffic lights. In a two-lane right turn at an intersection, they will make a third, sometimes fourth lane to push into the stream trying to take the right-turn, often taking the turn before or after the light has turned red for their normal lane. They stop wherever and whenever they like, either to pick up or drop off, their passengers (who must be nervous wrecks by the time they've endured a trip) often stopping just metres from a bus/taxi stopping zone, specially removed from the traffic flow for that exact purpose. On roads where there is a dirt shoulder, they will take to the sand, bumping along through the potholes that there inevitably are, not a care in the world for their passengers or their belongings. I once witnessed a taxi that had obviously not been serviced in a while, which, while travelling along the M1 north, had lost the back axle and wheel. Yes, the entire axle had come out of its shaft and, still attached to the wheel, had gone bouncing along the peak-hour highway. How it didn't cause another accident, is beyond me. Anyway, the taxi had been pushed into the middle emergency lane and its axle was left standing, as proud as a good hard-on, next to the damaged minibus. Forty minutes later, I passed by in the same direction as the taxi had been travelling, only to see that the taxi had disappeared. I can only surmise that the axle had been refitted to its shaft and the taxi had been driven away. These guys don't use the tow truck system which "normal" road users use in emergencies. They just fit the pieces back together and take it to some kangaroo mechanic at the side of the road, of which there are quite a few, who "fixes" it. Enough on the taxi's...you get my point, I'm sure... Now the rail system. It is an absolute nightmare, with the timetables even worse than the busses' and the recent three month-long security guard strike, where at least a dozen non-striking security guards were thrown from moving trains to their deaths, did nothing for their image. The carriages are in an appaling state, seats torn and slashed, piss, spit and booze splashed all over, and graffiti inside and out reminding one of the images of the New York "El" carriages seen in movies. There is also a project underway at the moment, called the "Gautrain" (an abbreviation of the province name "Gauteng" and "Speed Train"). This high-speed railway is supposed to join Pretoria CBD to Joburg International Airport and Sandton (an affluent area of Johannesburg). Initially, it's reputed to cost about R4.6 BILLION to build, but knowing the corruption and escalating foreign exchange rates, it's likely to cost double that...that's going to be over USD$1 BILLION!!! According to the fact sheets, there will be seventy thousand jobs created, but someone should tell these idiots that that is a short-term view. Rather tell the people how many long-term jobs will be created (probably about a tenth, if we're lucky). The fact that there's not been much construction to date (aside from a few holes drilled to determine rock quality, some of which have punctured public water supply pipes) leads me to believe that there's not a snowball's chance in hell of this new fuckin' white elephant being finished by 2010, let alone 2009 by which it is supposed to be tested and commissioned for use by an estimated "104,000 commuters per day" between Joburg and Pretoria. Even to now, there's still debate going on as to the final route the rail is supposed to follow. Enough on that subject though, you can read about it yourself at this link (if you have the time to waste, that is). As you can see, I believe transport is a compelling reason to give it to the Aussies. 1. Escalating Crime Rate - "Escalating"??? Well, actually, it's not escalating...IT'S ALWAYS BEEN THIS FUCKIN' HIGH, MORON REPORTER!!! You've obviously been believing the government statistics again, haven't you, ya twat!?! Every day we hear, read, and a great deal of us see, the crime going on in what could otherwise be a fantastic country to live. Every day we turn on our tellys and radios to see and hear about murder, rape, theft, corruption, injury and mayhem in and around the country's borders. As I mentioned earlier, about a dozen non-striking security guards were thrown from moving trains by, allegedly, striking security guards. We have all either experienced, or heard of, policemen and public officials taking bribes. We even have an ex-Deputy President who was up on a rape charge (acquitted, but not convincingly) and is now up on corruption charges in a seperate case. We have cash-in-transit heists just about every other day, the latest of which though thwarted by police resulted in the death of four policemen to automatic gunfire, as well as the death of eight of the wannabe heisters (in total, 19 cops have been gunned down in the first six months of 2006, 91 were killed in 2005, and 107 in 2004 - The Mail & Guardian). Yesterday's Sunday Times reported that it was Zimbabwean forces responsible for a series of violent crimes (does this mean that our police force is inadequate? Yes, but it also means they are incompetent). We hear about kids that are robbed of their cellphones and bicycles, sometimes violent enough to end in the death of the child. We read, some of us know or have experienced ourselves, of the hijacking of cars from our very driveways by armed thieves patrolling peaceful neighbourhoods. On occasion, we hear gunshots going off in the middle of the night as some poor bastard tries to scare off robbers trying to steal from his home where his family are sleeping. Today, we have a self-confessed drug addict who killed her grandfather and aunt, claiming she was "chosen by God" to be a "living example of the Bible's Book of Revelations" (Independent Online - IOL). News24 reports that "Violent crime worries Nqakula" (our so-called Minister of Safety and Security - it better do, fuckwit!!). A farmer is accused of killing an 11 year old boy (News24). Three travellers complained to the SA Airways that their baggage had been tampered with and were told that the "SAA are not responsible for valuable articles" (does that mean that all luggage is valuable?) - The Beeld. "Lovers quarrel ends in tragedy" - Sunday Times (a man was arrested after shooting his girlfriend following a domestic tiff). "90 nabbed in Hillbrow raid" - Sunday Times (Police have arrested 90 people, 28 of them illegal immigrants, during a weekend operation in Hillbrow). Enough on the "escalating" crime rate...again, I'm sure you get my point. Here's another couple of personal reasons: 1. The 2010 World Cup Bid Management Team - It's reported this morning that the CEO of the team has "laughed off" reports that the WC will be taken away from SA. If only the ignorant bastard would read this posting, maybe he'd be laughing out his arse. There's an absolute bunch of arseholes running the bid team, all of whom I believe are only in it for the personal financial reward and nothing to do with bringing the largest sporting spectacle to the country. Read the article here... 2. The Police Force - useless, incompetent, undertrained bunch of aresholes, not fit enough to look after my house let alone the fuckin' country. Yes, they may be undermanned, but that is not the chief cause of their incompetence. For one, they just don't give a shit! Cops are expected to lay their lives on the line in defence of the public in times of jeopardy. Not our fuckin' lot...they take a bribe, then fuckoff and buy the wife/girlfriend/both a nice little present in exchange for a shag. There's more corrupt policemen in SA than, I believe, the entire European police forces combined. Get stopped at a roadblock, perhaps pissed out of your brains (a common occurence in SA is drinking and driving), plead poverty/stupidity/ignorance and you'll be asked "Well, what can you do for me then?" That's your cue to slide a R100 note out of your wallet along the window ledge of your car towards the cop and watch it disappear faster than Bill Clinton's cigar. You will be waved on your way, with a stern warning something along the lines of "Straight home, now". Talking of incompetence, cops and taxis...cops are more likely to stop a Mercedes or BMW driver for not wearing their seatbelt or talking on their mobile phone while driving, than stop an overloaded, unroadworthy, taxi from possibly hurting or killing innocent passengers...go figure. Enough about the cops...you get my point, I know... 3. Lawlessness of citizens - Undoubtedly a contributing reason to the corruption of the police force, but here there are also many things the public do but are not supposed to. You name the law and some arsehole, somewhere, will be breaking it. Why? Cos he knows he is not going to get caught by the incompetent police force. And on the off-chance that he is caught, he could probably smooth talk and bribe his way out of his mess. Even the only southern African member of FIFA, from Botswana (African nonetheless), was recently fired from FIFA for selling his personal WC tickets on the black market to fans at more than three times the official proice. People, in general, just don't give a fuck. Not about other people, the laws they're breaking, the hurt, embarassment, anger and irritation they cause other people...nothing. Life is cheap in Africa, and always will be. And there's a price on everything, even life. 4. Service ethic in SA - In most places, you actually can't complain about service as there just isn't any. And it doesn't matter where you go, government offices, restaurants, police stations...you name it. In a restaurant, complain about service and you will get treated with the contempt the fly in your soup deserved. You are not allowed to complain and, if you do, your waiter will take the plate away, fish the fly out of the soup, spit in it and stir it in, then bring back the same plate to your table (perhaps with a fresh breadroll so that it looks different)...and he will smile at you all the while. Go into a government office and you will stand in a queue for hours on end, with people pushing in front of you to be served, regardless of the number on your or his ticket (if the ticket system even works). Heaven help you if you have to go into a police station for help...as in the recent case of a young girl who had, allegedly, been raped and crawled into a police station. They didn't believe her and left her sitting on a cold bench for hours. Even some hospitals couldn't give a shit about the very people they are supposed to be serving. Another rape victim was left on a gurney in a passage for hours before she was seen by a "doctor" (a large number of whom were imported by the government - at great expense to the taxpayer - from places like Cuba where they couldn't make a living in their own countries. My head hurts after all this ranting and raving, so I'm going to stop as I'm also getting pissed off just thinking of it all... In summary... If you want to see our crime rate increase ten-fold, or the first WC in history be an absolute fuckup, then just hold the tournament in SA. Incidents of assault (armed or not) and theft, incompetence, bad service, lawlessness, road deaths and injuries, corruption and general bad-feeling toward the entire African continent (not just SA) will sharply increase as the tourists flock into the country. And with the world media focused on the country due to the tournament, imagine the number of reports that will come out. Each and every incident will be scrutinised to the n-th degree and embellished by zealous reporters looking to cash in. And the entire world will see the reports. And the entire world will laugh at the image of SA being ripped apart. And the entire world will look on in horror as the first WC on African soil is exposed as a farce. And the entire world will blame FIFA for having not given the tournament to the Aussies. I say give it to them now, FIFA, before you make the biggest mistake of your useless fuckin' lives...