Times Square fracas
SPIDER-MAN is generally known as a goodie. Possessed of amazing strength and agility, having been bitten by a radioactive spider, he has seen off all kinds of villains – The Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, The Chameleon, The Scorpion, The Lizard, The Sandman, and Kraven the Hunter among them
But in Times Square in New York the other night he was arrested for punching a cop.
A man called Junior Bishop was dressed in a Spider-Man outfit and posing for photographs with tourists. A woman gave him one dollar. Bishop told her the price was five.
A cop intervened to say the superhero was allowed to accept tips, not name prices.
At which Bishop gave the cop one on the schnozz.
Onlookers, including other street entertainers Elmo and Mickey and Minnie Mouse, watched as a scuffle ensued. But not even the amazing Spider-Man can best the New York cops.
Bishop was arrested and charged with assaulting an officer, resisting arrest and criminal mischief.
The tourists got their money’s worth, I’d say.
Cards, cards
WHEN will the IRB get to grips with this yellow card/red card system that is so distorting the game of rugby?
Professional fouls and filthy fouls certainly need to be effectively punished. But should the match be crippled as a result?
Watching South Africa versus Samoa in the Sevens at the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow the other night, the anomaly of the card system simply leapt out.
Samoa are a people for whom seven-a-side rugby might have been designed. It fits perfectly with their quicksilver running and handling game. The Boks are no slouches either.
Samoa were ahead 7-0 when two of their players were yellow-carded. This meant they had only five on the field of play for four minutes – a significant stretch of time in Sevens rugby. That is the equivalent roughly, in 15-man rugby, of having four or five players off the field at the same time. It’s an impossible situation to be in.
The Boks won 35-7. What should have been an exhilarating game ended up as a non-contest, a nonevent.
Can the IRB not smell the coffee? Punish transgressors by all means. Give them red and yellow cards. Let them be suspended for lengthy periods, fined large sums of money. Make the punishment so painful nobody in his right mind would risk it.
But, on the day, allow somebody to come on off the bench.
Why cripple the contest? Why punish the rest of the players and the millions of spectators?
Smell the coffee, gents!
Desert storm
A HABOOB – an immense dust storm – brought traffic to a standstill in Phoenix, Arizona, in the US. Police ordered motorists to pull over and keep their windows shut as the giant cloud of dust and sand blotted out sunlight in Maricopa County.
Impressive shots of this phenomenon have appeared on the internet, a massive rolling cloud of dust.
But I do feel we’re being hoodwinked again, like with those so-called shots of the Nasa Discovery vehicle on Mars.
The haboob wasn’t at Phoenix, Arizona, at all, it was on the Griquas rugby field at Kimberley, where haboobs (a word originating in the Sudan) are frequent occurrences.
Ads with bite
SOME classified ads placed in British newspapers:
Free Yorkshire Terrier. Eight years old. Hateful little bastard. Bites!
Free Puppies. ½ Cocker Spaniel, ½ sneaky neighbour’s dog.
Free Puppies. Mother is a Kennel Club registered German Shepherd. Father is a Super Dog, able to leap fences in a single bound.
Cows, Calves: Never Bred. Also 1 gay bull for sale.
Joining Nudist Colony! Must sell washer and dryer £100.
Tailpiece
A FEMINIST gets on a bus and is outraged when a little old man gets up to offer her his seat.
“Patronising old fool!” she hisses and pushes him down again in his seat.
The bus comes to another stop and the little old man tries to stand again as a woman climbs on board.
“Male chauvinist pig!” says the feminist and forces him down.
He tries again at the next stop as several women climb on board.
“You’re living in the stone age!” the feminist declares as she pushes him back into his seat.
“For pity’s sake, woman! That’s three stops I’ve missed now! I want to get off !”
Last word