Jani Allan Quotes
1952–2023 South Africa
Jani Allan (11 September 1952 – 25 July 2023) was a South African columnist and radio personality who became the subject of media coverage.
- South Africa
- Authors
- Autobiographers
- Journalists
- Memoirists
Random Jani Allan quote
19 quotes
I disapproved of the number of men she had traipsing into her bedroom and suggested she should have a turnstile on her bedroom door.
Whatever award is given for libel, being cross-examined by you would not make it enough money.
I'm impaled on the blue flames of his blowtorch eyes, you see.
A pervasive moral turpitude underlies South African society.
You'd have to be dead not to be impressed by his sincerity. But then didn't Oscar Wilde say say "The worst vice of the fanatic is his sincerity".
But despite the fact that everyone thinks that I'm an IFP member, I do not have any political affiliations. I support Buthelezi the man because he makes me believe that heroes still exist.
It is her total professionalism and perennial striving for perfection that elevated Moira from the merely blonde to the maxi-talented.
His voice, like a malted milkshake marinated for more than seventy years, has a slightly monotonous lilt - rather like a Hindu chanting Bagavad Gita.
Most of the time our discussions are political, because it's hard not to be political in this country (not like in Britain, where you can ignore the rather sedate way everything's going downhill).
Dressing with style is akin to issuing a manifesto; dressing fashionably is like signing a petition.
And I think that my whole life, looking back at it, I was so rooted in worldly things, in worldly values, fame, fashion and fortune and all the things that are just transient.
to miik the citizens to the extent that they start mooing, is contrary to improving living standards.
That night I made copies of all the documents with shaking hands and gave them to a friend with contacts in the British secret services. I had a bitter taste in my mouth.
Description of Carman in 1992 article she published in The Spectator.
the little roly-poly Russian-born rebel of the canvas.
The voice (sometimes an ominous rumble that sounds as though he's been gargling with pebbles, sometimes the bliss of Bailey's Irish Cream swirling lazily about a fine crystal goblet) crescendos almost imperceptibly.
The original of the yellow rose is clad (you've guessed it) in canary yellow. The lemon-meringue confection has been poured into yellow slacks and yellow shirt, an immaculate yellow-blonde barbie-doll with 'EFG- Follies-Girl' written all over her.
The happy-go-lucky barefoot kid who loved rugby, ice-cream-and-hot-chocolate sauce, staying at home for a braai and the flieks grew up into an international rugby player, idol of millions and South African cult figure...
As remote as the rings of Saturn... A man with his stubby million-rand finger perennially prodding the public's pulse, his eyes constantly roving the horizons of the future, Kerzner has the power of a Prometheus unbound.