"What happened?" he asked
"Well," the Cow began as she slumped into her chair. "I went along to the Fokofpolisiekarconcert at Kirstenbosch."
The Cow shook her head sadly. "Nope. I had a migraine, so head banging wasn't quite going to feature. Mind you, the bass guitarist managed to keep it up a good while - everyone else parked off on chairs, but he strutted around with the kind of energy even Mick Jagger would envy!"
"OK..." Gramsci shrugged. "So then...?"
"Well, at one point the vocalist leapt up and did a handstand, and crashed down into the drum kit. The drummer never missed a beat, so to speak. But I think that was what caused it."
Gramsci was now truly confused. "How could that have caused your physical discomfort?" he asked.
"Ah. Yes. There were lots of school kids. They were doing school kid kind of things, like hiding their cigarettes in Appletiser cans so that they could smoke under the security guards' noses. But this one girl - eish! She was hammered! I've never seen anyone so out of it. Anyway, just walking proved too much for her, and she crashed down on me twice. And when she eventually realised that the world looked a little different because she was flat on the ground, she crashed down on other people too, until her babysitter came to fetch her. Sadly, though, she was the 'before' ad for weightwatchers, so the experience was a bit painful for those of us on the receiving end."
"You were flattened by a large, stoned schoolkid? Twice?"
"Sadly."
Gramsci thought for a while. "Perhaps that's why UCT Management gave in to the strike so quickly," he suggested. "If Cape Town really does have the fattest people, all that marching and toyi-toying can't have been good for the foundations of Bremner!"