Hero in a HalfShell


Zumatello hits the election campaign.

¼ of the world’s most awesome fighting team

Straight away, one can see the direct parallels:

Donatello (who wore the purple mask, of course) was the brilliant scientist, inventor, engineer, and technological genius. He was perhaps the least violent Turtle, preferring to use his intellect to solve conflicts.

Zumatello (who is wearing the red mask, above) is the brilliant ANC President, polygamist, alleged fraudster and political genius. He is perhaps the least trusted Turtle, preferring to use his friends as scapegoats to avoid prosecution.

6000 miles… does not condone the defacing of election campaign posters unless it’s really, really amusing and you send photographic evidence to us here chez 6000.

“I thought it was a lunatic ninja”

The words of Mr Beat Ettlin, 42 after he fought off a 40kg kangaroo which had broken into his house during the night.

The confused marsupial smashed its way into Beat Ettlin’s home in the Canberra suburb of Garran.
The 42-year-old told Sky News Online: “I just saw this black thing. I thought it was a lunatic ninja, an intruder. It just fell on top of us on the bed. A couple of seconds later I realised it was a kangaroo.”

As you would. The tail, the pouch, the bouncing motion and the lack of a sword. All dead giveaways.

ninja_crouch kangaroo
Kangaroo/Ninja: Tough to distinguish

Full marks to Mr Ettlin, however, for not only making a presumptive identification of his would-be assailant, but also performing a remarkably quick psychiatric assessment.
I know – when something lands on your bed in the middle of the night, it’s sometimes hard to work out exactly what it is. I regularly have the same issue. Only yesterday evening, a moth fluttered down onto my arm while I was watching the Spanish footy. My first thought was also “lunatic ninja”, before I settled on the more reasonable Plutella xylostella. But not before I had battered him to death with my nunchucks.

So anyway, having gathered that her husband was dealing with a mentally unstable martial arts expert, Mrs Ettlin took the appropriate action:

“I just pulled the covers over our heads and screamed. It jumped on my shoulder, bounced across the bed and onto the bedside table. Can you imagine how close it was to my head?”

I don’t know – can we? Are you some sort of mutant?
If not, and it bounced on your shoulder, I’m going for about 6 inches, tops. It’s not that hard to imagine™.

But the similarity between kangaroos, lunatic ninjas and moths doesn’t end there:

Mr Ettlin believes it was attracted by light on the bedroom window and cut itself on broken glass when it smashed its way through.

I have the same problem with moths and lunatic ninjas. They see that bedroom light on and they have to be near it – whether there’s a window in the way or not.
Leave a light on and go downstairs for 10 minutes to get your cocoa and when you return, there are a variety of 14th Century Japanese warriors and Lepidoptera circling the ceiling bulb.
And your window is invariably broken.

Happily, Mr Ettlin was able to protect his wife and kids by performing basic wrestling moves on the kangaroo before ejecting it from the house. He now probably faces animal cruelty charges, but it’s a small price to pay for the fun of beating the local wildlife up.
In fact, since moving to South Africa, few things please me more than sneaking up and practicing my karate moves on a quietly grazing springbok – certainly a vast improvement on the rather unsatisfying hedgehog boxing we used to get up to back in the UK.

Less prickly, too.

More on that expat vote thing

Thanks to Persona non grata, (who of course is always more than grata here on 6000 miles…) for his comment on the Trevor Mallach fake letter post, which – after some top class detective work*, I have discovered came from here.

LONDON. South African expatriates living in Britain and the US say that they are unlikely to vote in April 22’s general election as they are too busy queuing at soup kitchens and catching rats to bulk up their gruel. However some expats have demanded the right to vote, hoping to stuff their shoes with ballot papers and gather up enough pencils to burn for warmth.

The issue of whether or not expatriates should be allowed to vote in the forthcoming election has been a political hot potato in South Africa, with the ANC opposing the move as it fears a strong expatriate turnout on April 22 could see its majority slip from 76 percent to 75.9 percent.

However the Democratic Alliance and the Freedom Front Plus remain adamant that expatriates should be allowed to vote abroad, and are hoping for a major boost from this demographic.
4.4 million of South Africa’s 4.5 million whites currently live in four flats in Shepherd’s Bush in London, and both opposition parties are hoping to rouse at least a few dozen out of their traditional apathy come April 22.

But for expatriates, trapped in a crushing cycle of debt, joblessness and stale Jaffa Cakes, voting is not as easy as it sounds.

Worsie van Tonder, a 26-year-old electrical engineer currently working as a coffee-bean titillator at Costa, says he is unlikely to vote even if allowed to.
“If you’re out of the shop for more than twelve minutes a month they fire you,” he explained. “I just don’t know when I’d get the chance. And these beans need titillating.”

Elsa-Chante Smit, 23, is a classically trained pet therapist but is currently paying her heating bills by working as an exotic dancer at Little Caesar’s Skin Bar in Glasgow. She echoes Van Tonder’s sentiments, although she says she’s lucky just to have a job.
“A lot of South Africans in the UK, you see them roaming around in the streets like zombies. Slack jaws, moaning as they walk, Springbok jerseys all dirty and ragged, Springbok beanies all unraveling, Springbok scarves dragging in the slush behind them.

“The local kids throw them with rocks. Dogs rip off their jean-pants. It’s horrible.”

Brad Brad-Bradley, who decided to take a gap year in London with his friend and wrestling partner Chad Chadley-Chadford after they graduated from Michaelhouse with distinctions in suppressed masculine rage, said he would not be voting on April 22 as he would be at the South African embassy applying for economic refugee status.
“Bru, we’re so stoked about going home and that, but we sold our Bok puffer jackets and Bok jerseys so we’d totally freeze to death before we made it to Heathrow,” he explained.

He said getting on a South African Airways flight was easy as one only needed to offer the cabin crew some hard drugs.
“The problem is that me and Chad ate our drugs last night, with the last of the rat. It was so cold, and our teeth are starting to get loose in our gums, and he had this brick of skunk, so we fried it in diesel oil and shredded the last of the rat-leg into it.

“It tasted lank k*k but what can you do in these times?”

Of course, it’s obviously made up. The flats are in Putney, not Shepherd’s Bush.

* Cut & Paste a bit of it into google. Hit Enter key.