He has the remarkably admirable ability to summarise, in a few hundred words, what you already read every day on the front page of the newspaper and hear on the few talk shows on TV. But not in any grander terms. Admirably better phrased, using a few expressions you didn’t even know existed. And preferably without adding any new ideas – that’s just a distraction. And I’m not even talking about Peter Pannekoek, who appeared on the latest series of *Zomergasten* at the end of July kicked off with an evening of television featuring some truly admirable people.
Peter Pannekoek was cabaret. Small-time stuff. Last night it was the turn of the most eloquent author of our time, the man who has always read one more book than you and who has travelled to at least ten countries your neighbour hasn’t: Tommy Wieringa. It turned out to be a special evening.
The only woman
It was already well known that Tommy Wieringa is never one to be in any doubt. Anyone who, after the previous Anyone who felt a bit queasy during the *Zomergasten* evening due to all of Merel Pauw’s sincere doubts and wonder was in for a real treat. On 16 August 2026, Tommy Wieringa explained everything to Janine Abbring and answered all the questions she was allowed to ask, given the programme’s interview format.
Janine Abbring was the only woman there that evening. She held her own for an admirably long time. She must have been thinking all sorts of things, but managed to choose her words carefully during those rare moments when the man opposite her allowed her a brief interjection. She found herself in the company of Wieringa’s teenage daughters, who, after a phase of childish foul-mouthed banter, had been told that whilst they were allowed – no, were required – to think whatever they liked, they had to choose their words carefully. Very. Carefully.
Open-ended spanners
Cabaret artist Peter Pannekoek didn’t want to hear the word ‘admiration’ when, in the closing stages of his evening, Abbring sought to sum up his programme with it. The great writer Wieringa had put together a programme consisting entirely of admiration – from the master of the short story, A.L. Snijders, to the Ukrainian man whose limbs we saw being torn off just before bedtime: Tommy Wieringa admires these men who do what men are meant to do, just like the much-admired Joost Conijn, who built his own aeroplane.
Men discuss spanners and Baco tools, kicking things that are billowing smoke and making a racket. Or those straw brushes that look like eyebrows. Wieringa admires them. Boundlessly. He also takes things from them, such as A.L. Snijders’s tone and Conijn’s idea of a flying machine, which played a part in *Joe Speedboat*, his admirable novel about an admirable hero. Men also fight monsters, and in *De Rus* we have found the ideal, terrifying monster. There is no time for doubt in the trenches. Nor for reflection.
Zeitgeist
Could it be a sign of the times that we’ve already had two men on *Zomergasten* who derive their self-respect from admiring other men? The idea must be that if you can admire others, you’ll surely be admired yourself, and if no one else does, then the admiration that your company commands will surely rub off on you a little too. Something like that?
Is it the cold-hearted psychologist in me who hoped to see something very small and vulnerable in van Wieringa’s body language – as he spent the evening either leaning back triumphantly with his arms crossed, or leaning forward with a fatherly air of concern? Ultimately, it was something in Janine Abbring’s gaze that particularly struck me and made me feel sorry for her: total, absolute bewilderment.
Here, we identified most strongly with Janine Abbring’s dog, to whom Wieringa made a rather unkind reference at the start of the programme. The admirably calm little bitch didn’t bat an eyelid.
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