
Boogeyman
The boogeyman is sure he heard something under the bed. He looks, and finds Rassie down there with a clipboard, checking the setup.

The boogeyman is sure he heard something under the bed. He looks, and finds Rassie down there with a clipboard, checking the setup.

Rassie goes to feed the lions at sunset. By the end of the evening it is the lions who have laid the table.

Nobody can count to infinity. Rassie is asked how far he can count, and the analysts find out he has already done it — twice.

The fire is dead, the chops are not moving and nobody can save the braai. Rassie opens the coals, gives it air, and the evening starts again.

Rome has the plans, the meetings and the delays. Then a specialist arrives who would rather move the blocks than price the job.

Rassie drives the N1 and never pays a cent. SANRAL writes to him every month to thank him for blessing it.

Mission control runs out of options, so they phone a man on a stoep in South Africa. Move the one oke there, then use the space properly.


Rassie is born before the hospital is finished. He points out the flaws on day one, and comes back years later to finish the job.

Armstrong steps onto the moon and finds the footprints already there, and someone waiting with a flag.

An oom hands Rassie a ball of steel wool and asks what he plans to do with it. Rassie asks for five minutes.


Rassie needs to settle one thing with the bulldog before bed. The bulldog has opinions.

A three-hour Home Affairs queue, until the clerk looks up and the appointment is suddenly ready.


A lawn mowed in pitch stripes, a flowerbed with a defensive structure and a yellow card for the dog.

Pass-the-parcel as a set piece, musical chairs with a TMO and a cake delivered with perfect timing.

Joburg to the coast on a strict driver rotation, with the biltong bench coming on at the hour mark.

Every robot in the suburb stuck on green in all four directions, and one man in the middle of the intersection calling a scrum.

Fourteen reports, two years and one reference number. So the street stopped waiting for the ref.

A tight parking bay, a car guard with the clearest calls Rassie has heard all season and one very unusual job offer.

Team selection at 06:00, cones in the bakkie and a lunchbox thrown in from touch.

A Saturday supermarket run, planned like a Test match. Seven trolleys. One loaf of bread.
Rassie skink nie n bier nie. Die bier skink vir hom.
Submitted by Llewellyn Abdoll
Rassie doesn't gooi his own Branna.The Branna runs into Rassie hand.
Submitted by Alanda Dieroff
Rassie doesn’t carry water.He walks on it.
Submitted by Judy Taylor Phillips
Rassie doesn’t need Google Maps.South African roads know where he’s going.
Rassie once complained about a pothole.The municipality apologised to his tyre.
Rassie doesn’t look for parking at the V&A Waterfront.A bay gets nervous and opens up.
Rassie doesn’t stand in the Home Affairs queue.The queue stands for Rassie.
Rassie doesn’t wait for the kettle to boil.The kettle waits for the call from the coaches’ box.
Rassie doesn’t do small talk.He does set-piece talk.
Rassie doesn’t set an alarm.Sunrise waits for the team talk.
Rassie’s shopping list has a seven–one split.