Latest news with #Mzansi&Co
The Citizen
16-07-2025
- The Citizen
Neighbourhood secret agents are always watching
Tattletale neighbours may be nosy and dramatic, but deep down… they're still part of the neighbourhood family. Every neighbourhood has one. That one neighbour who could single-handedly bring down a mafia ring with the amount of spying and reporting they do. A regular tattletale with the surveillance skills of a retired detective and the subtlety of a foghorn. Meet the nosey tattletale neighbour. They see everything. Literally everything. These local intel agents don't sleep – they recharge while staring at their Ring doorbell footage. They know how many times you opened your garage last week and have already drafted a report on the suspicious length of your cousin's visit. Their hobbies include: Reporting your uncut lawn to the Homeowners Association (via e-mail, with attachments); Alerting the entire neighbourhood Facebook group if your dog barks more than once; and Filing anonymous complaints that aren't remotely anonymous. These neighbours love: Cc'ing everyone on a complaint e-mail; Filing official reports about unofficial happenings; and Calling the non-emergency police line like it's a podcast subscription. You parked half a centimetre onto the pavement? Expect a passive-aggressive note folded with origami-level precision on your windscreen. With a printed photo. Time-stamped. Tattletales don't just observe – they narrate. Loudly. ALSO READ: South African life hacks: A mix of genius, nostalgia and outright madness 'Oh I saw her come home with a different man last Tuesday.' It was your brother. Calm down, Brenda. They stir the pot so hard, it's a miracle they haven't opened their own gossip magazine. They live for drama and if there isn't any, they'll sprinkle some themselves. They say they care about the neighbourhood. But what they really care about… is being right. They want their property value high, their grass greener and your recycling sorted properly. The trick is not to fight them – it's to out-manoeuver them. Want to water your plants in peace? Wear a fake moustache. Confuse their facial recognition software. Hosting a BBQ? Invite them. A well-fed tattletale is a temporarily silent one. Want to drive them wild? Move a gnome two inches every day. Watch them implode. Tattletale neighbours may be nosy and dramatic, but deep down… they're still part of the neighbourhood family. So, give them a wave, smile sweetly and double-check your bins. The suburb's secret agents are always watching. NOW READ: Mzansi & Co: A sitcom South Africans are already living
The Citizen
18-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Citizen
Why looking good is now a full-time job
We hike for Instagram, smile through bad haircuts, and moisturise while mocking moisturising. Vanity's a circus—and every one of us is in it. We don't just live—we pose, filter, and obsess. In today's world, vanity is more than a vice. It's an art form. Picture: iStock 'Humans are nature's most self-obsessed creation,' my neighbour grunts. 'If aliens ever show up, they'll probably be baffled by how much time we spend staring at our own reflections, posing for selfies and arguing over hair products,' he adds while moisturising his face with a sunblock-cream to avoid getting more wrinkles. He is over 60, by the way. He has a valid point. Once upon a time, but not so long ago, people took photos to capture beautiful memories. ALSO READ: How to survive the cold winter in Jozi Now, we take 347 selfies just to find the one where our left eyebrow looks slightly better. And don't even get me started on the 'candid' shots – there's nothing candid about posing like you just happened to be laughing in perfect golden-hour lighting. Nobody lifts weights in a gym any more – they lift for the mirror. You'll see someone staring at their reflection, flexing biceps they swear wasn't there yesterday. 'Is that … a new vein? Yes! 'Gains!' Few things in life are as traumatic as getting a bad haircut. One wrong snip and suddenly it's hat season for the next six months. And let's not forget the dramatic salon moment when the stylist holds up the mirror behind your head and asks: 'Do you like it?' ALSO READ: Mzansi & Co: A sitcom South Africans are already living Of course, you nod and smile – while mentally screaming: 'What have you done to me?' People will hike a whole mountain just to take a single glamorous photo, pretending they're one with nature – then immediately climb back down to find Wi-Fi and upload it. Bonus points if they caption it: 'Just out here, living my best life.' Humans will do anything to avoid looking old. Anti-ageing creams? Tick. Botox? Tick. 'Face yoga' that makes you look like you're chewing invisible gum? Tick. ALSO READ: Embracing the humour in life's chaos Meanwhile, turtles live to be 150 years old and don't stress over a single wrinkle. And those who take selfies and caption it: 'I just woke up like this.' No, you didn't. Nobody wakes up looking like a perfectly filtered influencer. We wake up looking like escaped cave creatures – hair in chaos, pillow lines tattooed on our faces and a vague sense of confusion about where we are. I have to agree with my neighbour. Vanity makes us do ridiculous things, but hey – maybe it's what keeps life entertaining. ALSO READ: Sibling rivalry is the gift that keeps on giving After all, if we didn't care about looking good, how would the beauty industry make its multibillions each year?
The Citizen
04-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Citizen
Mzansi & Co: A sitcom South Africans are already living
Picture a local sitcom with load shedding, braai fails, neighbourhood WhatsApp wars and dodgy plumbers. Sound familiar? Imagine flipping on your TV every evening to watch Mzansi & Co, my daughter said one evening. Set in a typical South African suburb, sporting a group of mismatched neighbours – like us – navigating life, load shedding and the occasional braai disaster, she carried on. I could picture it, actually. Birds are chirping, the smell of boerewors drifts through the air, and then – poof! The power cuts out. The mechanic to the left of us starts swearing and the word Eskom features somewhere. Mama Joyce who lives across the road follows suit. Raj – who lives next to her – doesn't swear but I could picture him dragging his very expensive generator from his garage before switching it on. And, of course, the rich guy next to Raj casually switches to solar. Show-off. I start braaing everything in my freezer before it melts. By the time power returns, half the street is sitting outside, telling ghost stories and roasting marshmallows. Turns out, load shedding might just be the secret to neighbourhood bonding. ALSO READ: Embracing the humour in life's chaos No matter the episode, there's always that one person knocking on doors. They either want to borrow sugar, complain about your barking dog, or ask for your Wi-Fi password. Not to forget the street WhatsApp group chaos. Every episode will feature at least one group message meltdown. Questions like: Is anyone else without electricity? Who keeps parking in front of my driveway? Or instructions like: The municipal truck is here – take out your bins now. And, of course, an early riser sending a 'Good morning' message at 4.30am. Then there's Oom Piet. Doesn't matter if it's a birthday, a baby shower, or just a Tuesday – he will find an excuse to light the fire. His usual retort: the meat was on special. And our sitcom will have a dodgy plumber, a would-be politician sucking up for votes and a conspiracy theorist, all who will remain anonymous, of course. Then, in the dramatic season finale, the whole neighbourhood wakes up to no water. People start filling buckets from swimming pools, showering at the local gym and bribing the security guard for an extra JoJo tank refill. After much struggle and desperate WhatsApp messages, the water finally returns – except now, it's brown. Classic. Cue to the closing credits, set to the sound of someone yelling: 'Where's the fricken municipality when you need them?' Mzansi & Co. Your new favourite show… NOW READ: Sibling rivalry is the gift that keeps on giving
