Funny Stuff – Page 92 – Splendid Isolation

Abnormal

July 16, 2021 Kim du Toit Funny Stuff, Men & Women

This is very unusual for me, but I fell over laughing when I saw it.

Other Priorities

July 16, 2021 Kim du Toit Crime, Gypsies Tramps & Thieves, Mocking Furriners

I spoke of Victoria Coren a little while back, and now it’s time to call on her brother Giles, albeit for different reasons:

Giles Coren exploded with rage on social media this morning as he revealed thieves pinched his £65,000 eco-Jaguar for the second time in just three months.
The TV presenter, 51, turned detective back in April after his beloved car was stolen but police told him they didn’t have the ‘manpower to investigate’.

Of course they don’t. Perhaps it’s because if you go on Twatter and call a footballer a nigger, the response will be dramatic, and immediate. But to continue:

In an incredible thread, [Coren] posted pictures of his journey in tracking down the Jaguar I-Pace, which he eventually found in Highgate, north London, telling followers he ‘got his electric kitty cat back’.

Didn’t help much. After spending a small fortune to re-key his car and change all its “anti-theft” doodads, the car was stolen again, leaving Coren in an incandescent rage.

In a furious tweet, Mr Coren wrote: ‘They’ve stolen my fucking car AGAIN!!!! Cost me three grand to reset the keys and put in a new tracking system after last time and what good does it do? FUCK ALL.
‘If you see a black Jaguar iPace reg ending JVN could you tell me? I’ll give you a million pounds.’

Giles, ol’ buddy: if you’re going to drop a million bucks, you should rather move out of London, to a more law-abiding place like say, Reading.

I’ll give him the last word, though:

The food critic began: ‘Last night the cunts stole my new Jaguar I-Pace. So Fuck them, fuck the environment and fuck any sort of giving a shit about cars.
‘I’m buying a six year old diesel fucking Skoda and everyone can just fuck off.’

Note to the Greens: when you’ve lost the food critics… after all, this electric car thing will soon lose its allure for other reasons.

Gapping It

July 13, 2021 Kim du Toit Gratuitous Chick Pics, Mocking Furriners

Back in the late 1960s and early 70s, it became apparent that Rhodesia was going to fall and become just the latest African shithole (now known as Zimbabwe). As a result, there was a veritable flood of White Rhodesians over the Limpopo River into what was still a prosperous South Africa. With their typical mordant wit, Rhodesians called this exodus “taking the gap”, and abbreviated it into the simpler verb “gapping”.

Of course, this was only a short-term solution, because as one wag of my acquaintance put it: “Where are you Whities going to go next? The Atlantic Ocean’s deep, you know?”

One of those who foresaw the inevitable Zimbabwe-fication of South Africa was Your Humble Narrator, who had inherited his longtime family tradition of cowardice (see: fleeing France for the Dutch Cape to escape the persecution of the Huguenots), and thus took his own gap to these United States in the Great Wetback Episode of 1986, deep Atlantic Ocean notwithstanding. And so did quite a few others, Longtime Friend Trevor actually beating me here by a few months.

Since the Mandela Honeymoon, South Africa has of course continued its own steep plummet into Darkest Africa, and the flood of Gappers has increased, not just to the U.S. but also to Canuckistan, Oz and even to Britishland (for those fortunate enough to have British passports).

I told you all that simply so that I could show you the latest Gappers, who happen to be the twin nieces of the late Princess Diana, and who grew up in Cape Town. Ladies Amelia and Eliza have landed in London for good (Brit citizens, natch), and I’m fairly sure they’re going to do well, having been blessed with good looks, excellent dentistry, breeding and no small amount of Spencer cash.

Of course, if they follow what seems to be the new norm in upper Brit society, they’ll no doubt soon be enamored of the usual crowd of tattooed rappers and malcontent European footballers of questionable descent.

Call me cynical, or realistic.