A royal pain

Like all great fairy tales, it started with a palace; a gigantic thing, all gold and gleaming. The young man at the nearby table used his hands to describe soaring columns and endless corridors. His friend shook her head, enchanted. The Palace of Versailles was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he said.

Demons?! Protect the President!

Demons. They’re every secret service agent’s worst nightmare. One minute you’re standing at the president’s side, listening to the football on your earpiece, checking out the maidens in the front row. And the next – boom. The gibbering, leather-winged horde. Beelzebub’s army, getting all up in Number One’s grill. Of course we train for moments

There are no others

Translation is a tricky thing. Meanings are missed. Words slip. It’s possible that King Goodwill Zwelithini said that foreign nationals are valued contributors to the economy, and the translation just came out a bit wonky. It’s even possible that you and I were asked if we wanted R148,000 of our taxes paid to Zwelithini every