Fakes en Feite

Kyk, een ding is nou maar wors: daar is ‘n helse klomp fakes daar buite!

/\/””””””””””\/\ Jo-Ann stuur toe mos vir my ‘n e-mail met ‘n rubriek wat die mense claim Bakkies geskryf het. Ek het myself sommer onmiddellik vervies. Vir Bakkies.

“Gabba, ek dag ons het ‘n deal dat al ons comments oor die Wêreldbeker op ONS blog geplaas sal word. Hoekom het jy nou weer soos ‘n oorlamse kaller uitgebreek en oor die draad gespring?” Bakkies het een van daai uitdrukkings gekry wat hy altyd kry as hy op die privaat sit en klein All Blackies paseer. Jy weet, so stroewe, veraf blik… Soos ‘n hond wat skyt, maar moeite ondervind…

“Sorry, tjomma, kom weer,” antwoord hy, “ek is nie nou lekker op dieselfde golflengte nie.” Ek het die artikel onder sy neus gedruk (en dit in die proses vol broodkrummels, Marmite en kaas gemors) en gewag vir ‘n verduideliking. Bakkies het vrot van die irritasie daarna gekyk, sy neus met ‘n snork opgetrek, en die mooiste Bakkies-glimlag gegee wat ek nog ooit gesien het. “Tjomma, jy kan mos sien dis ‘n fake die! Waar in jou lewe het jy my al ooit sulke hogere Ingels hoor praat, wat nog van skryf! Ha! En Frans ook nog!” Hy het sy kop laggend geskud, en nog ‘n hotdog-erige ding in sy mond ingedruk.

Ek het vinnig weer daarna geloer, en besef dis nie ‘n plumber se werk dié nie… Nie eens ‘n Springbok-plumber nie! Dis ‘n imposter! ‘n Fake!! Daarom wil ek vandag ‘n dringende waarskuwing aan julle almal rig. Wees op die uitkyk, en wees paraat: iemand is besig om vir Bakkies te na-aap. Volgende kan dalk ek wees. Ek dink darem nie iemand sal vir ou splinterboude-ek’s-nou-weer-kamstig-fiks-en-reg blêddie Nataller na-aap nie, so julle kan alles glo wat in sy naam gepubliseer word. Maar moenie soos Bakkies maak, en al die soetkoek opeet nie. O ja, ek plaas die gewraakte artikel hieronder, dan kan jy dit ook lees.

* * * * * * * * *

Een ding wat nie fake is nie, is ons RUGBYRAAI! Ons het great nuus vir julle! Daar wag ‘n moewiese prys! Ons behoort vanaand die detail af te handel, so kom loer more in om te sien wat jy kan wen in ons rugbyraai. Intussen moet jy laat waai met jou voorspellings. Onthou – jy kan soveel keer deelneem as wat jy wil, maar jy moet net sorg dat jy elke keer ‘n unieke telling voorspel. Go for gold!

Kliek net HIER en pos dan telling-voorspelling (hi oe… dit rym…) en ‘n geldige e-mail, en jy is ingeskryf.  Jy mag soveel keer inskryf as wat jy wil!  Verseker net jou telling is uniek…

With the Rugby World Cup on the horizon, iafrica.com‘s Dan Nicholl exclusively presents Bakkies Botha’s Guide To Paris, the definitive guide for players and fans heading to France next month.
The cafés, the galleries, the sheer sense of history – l’esprit de Paris is something unique, an extraordinary palate of cultural experience that only Welkom and Brakpan come close to matching in my book (the practice of marrying your cousin, however, isn’t quite so widespread in Paris). The rugby is my main focus, certainly, but spending time in Paris will be magnifique

…and top of my list will be food. French cuisine is a rather rustic affair, granted – there’s no Gallic answer to boerewors, the French simply don’t have a word for braai (I checked my Afrikaans/French dictionary, a text I finally found on Amazon after months of searching), and you just don’t find biltong in Paris, which lends the city a somewhat medieval air. But for a nation still to discover the magic of the pooijtie, they make a decent fist of eating.

The pain au chocolat is a personal favourite of mine, although it does go straight to the hips (just ask Ricky J), and Parisian croissants are up there with Klein Jannie’s in De Villier’s Laan, up the road from me. France is still recovering from the war, which means they still eat things like snails, frogs and horses (having eaten after an away game against the Griffons, I have a sneaking suspicion I’ve eaten horse before), but French lamb is outstanding, and a basic croquet monsieur or baguette has a simple elegance redolent of a good Durban bunny chow.

Enough food (although try Le Petit Canard in the ninth, a veritable temple, as the name suggests, to quacking gastronomy; avoid it if you’re not a fan of duck, though); France abounds in culture as well. We’re very blessed in South Africa in terms of culture – we have the tractor museum in Villiersdorp, modern day Beethovens in the form of Die Campbells and Thys die Bosveld Klong, the art house cinema of Leon Schuster, and in the sokkie, ballet taken to an ethereal high. But again, the French make an enthusiastic go of their limited resources.

The Louvre was made famous by the Da Vinci Code, the brilliant research work that proved conclusively that Tom Hanks is a direct descendant of Ray McCauley; however, it’s also an art gallery, that’s got some cool paintings. The most viewed work is of the Moaning Lisa, a picture of a rather plump, grumpy looking woman with no eyebrows, who I’m almost certain Gurthro used to go out with (he denies it). The place is a bit rundown – there’s a statue of Venus (which looks nothing like the planet, to be honest) with both arms broken off, and they still hadn’t chucked it out last time I was there – but there are awesome mummies in the Egypt section worth checking out. (Egyptians have certain gender issues I’m not entirely comfortable with.)

The Eiffel Tower, Paris’s answer to the Vodacom Tower in Jo’burg, has great views, the Palace of Versailles is dripping in history, and the Arc de Triomphe makes for great photos – although the circle surrounding it is full of people who think they’re minibus taxi drivers. Not that they have proper taxis in Paris – and can you believe that in four visits, I haven’t seen a single Toyota bakkie? Not a single one; you have to feel sorry for a people deprived of basic necessities.

Shopping in Paris is a bit of a mixed bag. Monty always raves about Gallerie Lafayette , where he gets all his clothes, but you try and find a decent two-toned shirt or long socks in there; and Wynand gets his matchday foundation and eyeliner at Sephora on the Champs Elysées, but that’s not really my scene. I do like to pick up some French wine when I’m in Paris, though, and a good vintage French cognac goes almost as well with Coke as ten-year-old Klipdrift.

All in all, then, Paris is a great city, worthy of being named after Parys. Always say bonjour to people you meet, and make it clear you’re not English, or they won’t speak to you (and understandably so). Eat well, drink plenty of wine, and enjoy what is essentially a step back in time. No, it’s not South Africa, but you can catch up on 7de Laan and Casper de Vries on your PVR when you’re back – while you’re there, make the most of it. Bon voyage, mes amis – et allez les Boks!

Ye right…!

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2 Responses to Fakes en Feite

  1. Maak nie saak wie hier rond fake is nie, die blog is ‘n jol!

    Die koors het my. Vat gou die skakel, as jy nog nie het nie, en gaan kies jou dream team. Maak gou – tyd is min. Moenie bekommer oor pryse nie, doen dit omdat dit lekker is en omdat jy kan!

    http://www.5fmdreamteams.co.za/rugby

    Geniet ‘n moerawiese jolige wêreldbeker!

  2. wees meer as net die bal. wees…

    …t3h 0wnage.

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