No one in the world bothered much when, during a half forgotten court case, Nelson Mandela was condemned to jail for life in the sixties. South Africa, where the hell is that? but the name helped a little.

Now, we have two court cases and they appear to attract worldwide attention although you would think that the banality of these cases would not stimulate all this interest. But, the telly will wake up the dead even if it’s just a question of blokes killing their girlfriends or their wives, a daily occurrence.

One lady who is supposed to be Swedish but appears to me Indian has apparently been murdered by African blacks in Cape Town on contract by her recent husband who also seems to be an Indian but is a British millionaire, I’m told. A total enigma for me, why marry a woman, travel to Africa and then pay some blokes to shoot her?

Who am I to understand Indians, Africans, Aboriginals, Turks, Arabs, what have you? My origins are different but similar to the bloke who is accused of murder in the second trial and therefore I think I know what happened in that case.

Oscar Pretorius is an amazing fellow who must have a phenomenal will power to have trained his ill-born legs to adapt to plastic blades to become a universally admired athlete. Celebrity and money accentuated his arrogance, which had been a major characteristic to build his athletic success.

Two people in his locked up house, both in bed. She, sumptuous; he with ill-born legs. “What a pity,” she whispers smilingly, “that you can’t have a prosthesis for your prick also.”

She had no time to be sorry, the blow arrived too fast. The house was locked, she tried to save herself from his fury in the bathroom but dum dum bullets beat any wooden door.