Spring Has Sprung

So it's basically summer time again. Winter has passed and the sun in all her glory and wisdom, has decided to rear her beautiful warm face over us once more. Jeepers I love global warming. This time of the year seems like the perfect time to reflect on the season passed, and look forward to the heat wave ahead.

So here we go. Winter was bang average and wet. Good, that takes care of reflection. Now for the uncontrollable excitement of summer time.

I'm struggling to type right now, and my heart is literally thumping through my chest. I love summer. There is nothing better than sitting on Cliffies 1 - also know as 'Cougar Island' - on a steamy hot day, feeling the crunching sand between your toes. I mean, walk along the beach, or stretch to make that vital save in a game of 'bat and ball'. Just live it I say. Once you've built up a solid sweat, hit the waves. Feel the cold water pound against your head. There is nothing more refreshing. After cooling down rock a few killer body surfs. I'm not the surfing type, so body surfing is as far as I go.

Hiking up Lion's Head is another favourite pass time of mine. It only works in summer though. Hiking in the winter cold is ridiculous. Why would I want to get layered up like an onion, and then go sweat on a mountain in crispy cold air? I need to wear a wife beater and shorts when I work out, that's the only way. The water at the top tastes just that much sweeter in summer too.

Cricket also gets played during summer. Thinking about sitting on the grass banks at Newlands, draught in hand, and cooking under the sweltering sun, makes me very happy. Watch the game, or don’t, I doesn’t really matter, just enjoy the electric vibe. Being a stone’s throw away from Claremont is another tick in this box. I think everybody should enjoy a day at Newlands, it is impossible to be disappointed afterwards.

So there we have it. Probably the three greatest things to do in summer. Hit the beach, climb a mountain and watch a cricket game. By accomplishing those three feats you will have inadvertently have enjoyed a summer of peace and love. And at the end of the day, nothing else matters.

Welcome To Crazy Town

Here's to the crazy people out there. Without the nutjobs, kooks and other uncerimoniously named 'crazy people', the world would be dreary. I have always agreed with the theory that it is better to have an awkward morning than a night of loneliness. I need excitement in my life, and I find it extremely difficult to interact with a dull 'dialtone' of a human. People who refuse to broaden their horizons and stick to daily reutines have a special place on earth, just not alongside me.

That said, I'm not a crazy person by any stretch of the imagination. And by that I mean you aren't going to find me ashing cigars in friends eyes, or watching five minutes of a Lions Currie Cup match. It does interest me though, as to how far some willing and able kooks will go to stand out. It entertains me to read the news and discover someone has been jailed for faking a seisure after devouring an expensive meal to escape the bill. Just how many attention seeking individuals are there are amogst us?

Take Paris Hilton. She, for all accounts is an attractive woman. So it would'nt be unusual to see her parading through the streets of Hollywood with the worlds most influential men. Again, it's not strange to see snap shots of Paris tanning her nibbly bits on a yacht, is it? What if the owner of said yacht resembles the retard child of an Asian and an overweight pig? Oh yes, it's a steamy visual. He does, however, have more moolah than Botswana's GDP. Surely that should justify her new tanning salon? I think not. It is helluva funny though.

Speaking of attention junkies, just when you thought Donald Trump had run out of things to lend his name to, something new rose to the surface. Trump Tea. Yes, Trump has launched an exciting new chapter in his illustrius career, in the form of four leaf tea blends - que thumbs down. My word, Trump Tea, I mean, is he joking? Aside from the catchy name, everything else about it screams boredom. Coffee would've been awesome. Or some kind of protein shake. But this is getting off topic because everyone knows Donald Trump isn't crazy, he's just a balding American, sporting a ginger hairpiece. Priceless.

Now for the main course.

A fair maiden from a small part of London Town has to unfortunately be crowned queen bonkers. Her tale is not a pretty or herioc one, but she did out-do herself to grab the headlines.
A regular British family was returning home, after enjoying a peaceful weekend away. Unbeknown to them, their domestic worker had relished her time alone in the house. Lets just say she had a fun time. Fun has never killed anyone, has it? Turns out fun turned a corner and landed squarely on our fair maidens shouders. Upon entering the master bedroom, this small town family witnessed something only fit for a series called CSI-Emmanuel. Picture this; domestic worker lying spread eagle on your master bed, skirt down to her ankles, laptop open on porn, dildo in hand, and the cat on her chest. Take a second for it to sink in. Wow.

What a way to go. Creative, raunchy and pleasurable. That scene was fit for a mental asylum, but it was indeed a thouroughly enjoyable story. That is why the world needs crazy, dillusional people. Without them, we would have nothing to laugh at on Monday mornings.

Blown out the water.

'Blow' made me finally realise that drugs really are bad for you. I mean really bad. I’m not saying that the human race should never have invented narcotics, or that no one should strive to be a rock superstar, but the fact that the irrepressible lure of temptation is too much for us. We think that we can deal with anything that's throw in our direction, but, in truth we can't. Ozzy Osborne take a slow, steady bow.

'Blow' is based on the life of George Jung (Johnny Depp), who goes from rags to riches, and back to rags, in one lifetime. The film depicts the dramatic way in which George begins a topsy turvy relationship with the infamous drug lord Pablo Escobar. George’s fortunes exceed even his own expectations as he becomes the premier cocaine dealer on earth. Impressive. The only problem is, George cannot resist the temptation of the 'white powder', and instead of only dealing cocaine, he starts using, himself.

As humans, our drive and ambition is so evident in our everyday lives. Nobody - I don't care what they say - likes to lose. Everybody wants to be successful. Even tree-hugging hippies want to be good at not doing anything. The problem arises when our ambition exceeds our ability. This is evident in 'Blow', as George’s ambition is far greater than his ability to convert his vision into reality. In the end, George ultimately loses everything - including his mind. I guess the ideal plan for life would be to find your limitations, and do your best to stretch them.

Blow did get me thinking how easy it is to make a living for yourself, using narcotics. I'm not condoning the sale of narcotics, but the idea behind it. People want to be different. Nobody is the same. People have problems, issues and conditions that they need to escape from. Enter narcotics. Cocaine makes you feel like superman. Why wouldn't you want that feeling all the time? Addiction is quick and easy, and once you've hit the tip of the iceberg, there's a lot more waiting for you underneath.

So the idea of dealing does become appealing, in some weird way. The only problem is that feeling doesn't last, and is completely fabricated. Therefore business is likely to go pear-shaped sometime in the future. I guess that's the thrill of it.

As far as the dealing goes, I think I’ll save it for another lifetime.

HOST A FIFA WORLD CUP - Check.

The world has come and gone like the wind. It ripped through our country with ease, as if it were the South Easter, tearing through Cape Town on a regular occurrence. Make no mistake, the world left its mark on our nation. It came, it saw, it concurred. Simple as that. The world left us with an experience that no South African, who was lucky enough to be involved, will ever forget.

Thank you world, I salute you.


During the recent Fifa World Cup many questions were answered regarding our nations capability to host an event of such enormity. Many of our answers were positive, and only a miniscule, negative. Yes, we were ready, and we hosted an incredible showpiece. Maybe even the best yet. The world could only sit back and marvel at our achievement. Our stadiums were immaculate, some even the best the world has to offer. They lit up our cities day and night for a month, not once failing to impress. The Moses Mabhida Stadium in Durban, and Cape Town’s brand-spanking new Green Point Stadium were the most popular, but who could forget 94 000 screaming voices from inside Soccer City. All foreigners were welcomed with open arms, and made to feel at home in whichever city they found themselves in. Countless stories were shared over many liters of beer. Friendships were created that will last a lifetime.

The only disappointment was Bafana Bafana fading to an early exit in the first round. But even then, they did not disgrace us and as a country we did not disgrace ourselves. Beating France, a country that is ranked a million miles ahead of Bafana Bafana was a success alone. Scoring the first goal of the tournament was another. The only image I can muster up from that moment was one of pure elation. Beer rained down like water, everybody was embraced in joy and emotion. What a feeling.
I managed to watch all of Bafana Bafana’s fixtures at the Hyundai Fan Park, located just outside the V&A Waterfront. Celebrating with over 1000 other South Africans was something to behold, and made my heart pound with pride.

No Fifa World Cup concludes without any controversy, and South Africa 2010 was no different. The constant criticism of the buzzing vuvuzela, as well as the Jabulani Ball had the media’s tongues wagging throughout the competition. And what would a major global event be without an appearance from the self proclaimed ‘Hotel Heiress’ herself, Paris Hilton? And she did not disappoint, grabbing the headlines away from the football for a very comical morning, as she and her chum thought it would be a good idea to toke up a joint outside the Nelson Mandela Stadium. Apparently even celebrities can’t escape the long arm of the law.

The quality of football was, at some stages breathtaking, with the top teams such as Spain, Holland and Germany showcasing how the beautiful game should be played at the finest level. Spain deserved to lift the trophy as they played the most complete football throughout the tournament, leaving Germany and Holland close behind in their wake.

To be part of South Africa during the 2010 World Cup was a privilege that people who were involved shouldn’t take for granted. It was special, in so many ways. Now, we as South Africans lie in wait for the next opportunity to confirm our status as world beaters. The world cup hangover will pass, and then it’s time to build for our encore. One thing is for sure, we believe in ourselves, and the rest of the world knows it.

Official World Cup Song

Hells Yeah!

SUPER TIGER

He might be better than superman to be frank. I don’t think superman could play golf half as well as Tiger, or sleep with as many women. Mega Tiger, then?



It has recently come to my undivided attention that Mr. Woods has slept with over 120 women (during a five year period). Whether you love or loathe the man, that’s some impressive affair. You’d think the average cheating Joe Soap would be happy with sleeping with one or two women, walk away and be happy with their conquest. Even the serial sex addict would probably delve into the teens and call it a day. But no, not Tiger. He’s super. He does everything with the intention of achieving the best of his supernatural ability. No half mast. So kudos to you dear Tiger, you’ve played out of your socks once again. Literally.

The most impressive part about little Tiger’s charade, is the fact that he was able to conceal his shady behavior for five years. During this period we have got to know Tiger as the gentleman of the game. The peoples champion. A true legend of golf. He was always friendly to the media, and the only ‘pics’ the celebrity-starved paparazzi were able to snap of him, were the wrinkled expressions induced by happiness, after winning tournament after tournament at will, or the agonising look of disappointment when he lost. No one doubted him. He was a family man through and through, had two kids, and lived his life out of the public eye. So what sparked Tiger’s healthy appetite for unavailable women? Beats me. I mean, let’s be real here, he married a Swedish supermodel. That probably would’ve been good enough for superman to settle down, and keep his hands well and truly out the cookie jar. But then again so would being the World’s number one golfer for a million years in a row.

Tiger would still have been plugging away behind his unsuspecting gorgeous wife’s back, had he not gone and crashed his car in a frantic dash to escape his ballistic significant others rage. Idiot. To this day that is definitely Tigers biggest regret. That god dam tree, why’d it have to be there? If Tiger hadn’t crashed, he could’ve settled things with the wife - probably whilst inducing many body and head shots with his prized driver golf club - got divorced, moved on and had a normal life. Right? Think again, he’s Super Tiger remember. Nothing is normal in the wild and wacky world of Tiger Woods.

Amidst all his debauchery I still find myself reveling in his conquests. I feel slightly like a male chauvinistic pig, as I’m not a big fan of Tiger in general; it just astounds me as to how a man of his stature was able to parade around bonking everything in sight. Does he only see walking vaginas? Possibly? He has admitted to being a sex addict. Which are lies of course, he’s a supersex addict. Imagine the dangers of a supersex addict like Tiger roaming the streets? It’s no wonder he’s lapped up everything from his next door neighbour – which was the one girl that cost him his marriage - to the ladies plying their trade in the porn industry.

Apparently Tiger wasn’t certain of the kind of reception he would receive on his return to professional golf last month. He competed in the Masters and apparently didn’t know what to expect from the eagerly anticipating audience. What he didn’t realise though, was how he had immortalized himself over the past five years. By snooping and sneaking, pretty much banging everything in his path and retaining the title of the World’s No.1 Golfer, he became super. Everyone loves superman, right? Well guess what, Tiger's better than him, you do the math.
With that in hindsight, it should’ve come as no surprise when he received a warm, fuzzy-feeling-in-your-stomach kind of applause during the entire Masters.

So, after a stint in sex addiction jail (wonder how that worked out?), a lengthy yet monotonous apology to the world, a looming divorce, and a return to the golfing world, where does this leave Tiger Woods?

Here’s a thought. Mothers lock up your daughters, daughters lock up your mothers. Super Tiger is on the prowl. He’s single, and not losing Wood (s) any time soon.

Adult Lego?

Hell yes, this is exactly the kind of ad I’ve been scouring the depths of the world for. It’s so awesome; it should probably be traded for oil by some wealthy Middle Eastern Sheik, or some such drastic action. It’s every teenager’s naughty little secret. ‘Let’s buy some Adult Lego this weekend and recreate that Emmanuel episode we saw last night.’ I mean, going over to a mate’s house would never be the same again. One small problem though, it’s not real.

That’s right friends; it’s a fake, a hoax, a sham, a meaningless charade. To express my disappointment would be like Usain Bolt having a serious car crash, and instead of coming out the alive with cuts on his feet, emerging a short, slow white guy. Lego have basically ripped my recreated teenage years away from me and buried them deep, deep under ground – bastards.

Okay, let’s pretend Lego did not mind–fuck us into believing that we could create our very own naked lady mantle piece, and that Adult Lego really existed for every mans (and women’s) pleasure and enjoyment. This would be great. Think about it, you could come home after work, put down your coat and briefcase, and grab a snack and a coolie, before high fiving Lego Angelina Jolie on your way to the couch. You could ask her opinion on issues that need resolving, like poverty and world peace. Children wouldn’t be a concern, and you could take her silence on every topic as an instant acknowledgement that you are correct.
Coming home to the ‘wife’ would never be the same again. Really? Not so sure about that. Maybe to a monk, or Tom Cruise.

You see, although receiving a fully stripped woman, lying in bed prepped and ready in the doggy–style position, is something that makes me want to jump on couches, she’s not real. For the ready and able sexual being it poses more of a problem than a solution. This idea belongs in Adult World along with the product. Probably at the back somewhere. Customers should have to sign a written document declaring insanity, or to having no friends. Shame.

On the upside by running this fake campaign Lego have indeed generated some chit – chat. The self – loathing and desperation must have been deep though, because this crass attempt to get adult tongues wagging is nothing short of a loony trip. A campaign gone wrong.

Don’t touch me on my Lego.

California turns Happy Meals smile upside down

The obesity epidemic sweeping California, as well as the rest of America, has forced the Lawmakers in California to flex their muscles.



Soon children all over the US are going to be greeted with a sad surprise in their Happy Meals. Officials in California claim that the free toys/gifts accompanied in the Happy Meal are luring children into eating foods with high sugar, sodium and fat. Really? Not in my day. Usually if you decide to purchase a Happy Meal as a six – year – old, it would require your parents consent. Can you say bad parenting? Seems like another case of the Government acting like mommy and daddy. As far as I can remember, as a child if you’re successful in your attempt to strong arm ‘the parents’ into forking out for a Happy Meal, you’re doing it for the toys – definitely not for the food. Raw deal for ‘the parents’ then, having to deal with an entirely ear shattering fog - horn like scream of a six – year – old on a mission, and left with the haunting meal when the tirade is over.

That meal will more than likely end up in the trash, or in the rear end of mommy or daddy.

The ‘suits’ in Government are claiming that banning toys from the Happy Meal will, ‘break the link between unhealthy food and prizes.’ Okay that’s all good and fine, try telling that to Burger King and KFC. On that matter try telling that to everyone else in the fast food chain. Will they give two shits? No. They might give two burgers though.

It’s a business, plain and simple. McDonalds do advertise their Happy Meals, along with the toys/gifts inside. But all things considered they aren’t the voice inside your head.

Childhood obesity in the US has tripled in the last thirty years. Two – thirds of Americans – roughly 190 million people - are now said to be medically overweight. Scary. That’s some example the US in setting for their children. So what’s the problem? Is the American lifestyle too lazy and this in turn is affecting their children? Maybe fast – food is too easily accessible? Push up the price and drop the weight. That could be a credible solution.
Kids growing up in today’s generation need toys. They need to have fun. Removing toys from children won’t stop them from accessing fast – food, it will make them miserable. So well done California, now your kids are fat and depressed.

Two – thirds of America desperately needs to get active, exercise some self control and monitor their child’s weight. Simple as that. The Government shouldn’t have to step in as foster parents, because if the figures add up correctly, then two – thirds of the Government are ‘officially’ overweight.

When was the last time you thought about McDonalds?

KNOXVILLE BAR - ‘Another larney posi to have a dop.’

Cape Towns’ nightlife can sometimes become quite dull. We tend to end up entertaining ourselves exactly where we were the previous week, and that’s okay- we always have a vibe.
Every now and then, though, somewhere different wouldn’t be such a bad idea. There’s a lot of action out there, so why not play a little?



Knoxville Bar is a vibe, make no mistake. It's vivacious, and harbours some of Cape Town’s finest range of cougars. Sadly though, it’s not the largest place in the world. If I were to estimate, I’d say round about the same size as a large shoe closet for Posh Spice. If you’re expecting anything besides a bar you’ll also be sadly mistaken. It’s so small that even when you’re not at the bar buying your next beverage, you're in the line anyway. The music and general vibe is upbeat and funky, it’s well furnished and there are lots of good looking people to hang out with. Maybe I’m being stereotypical, but nevertheless, this is still a place that could grow on me.

The fantastic thing about Knoxville Bar is that you are actually able to hold a reasonable conversation. Not a conversation that involves one person screaming “What is your name?”, and the other replying “That’s awesome!” but a real conversation, with actual words. This in turn opens up a few pleasant avenues for Knoxville Bar, as many different events can be held there, as opposed to other ‘louder’ clubs. Bachelors’ parties, birthday celebrations, speeches, business meetings, just to name a few, and they even have a ‘lekker’ flat screen TV. to watch your favourite sports games.

What I am trying to get at here is basically if you can enjoy yourself whilst rubbing shoulders with almost everyone else in the place (usually the likes of Percy Montgomery), and are prepared to wait at least ten minutes in the line to reach the bar, then go bonkers. If not, go outside and have a breath of fresh air. And not just any air, your own air. Relish it, as this will be the last non- recycled breath of air you’ll be enjoying for the rest of the night.

At Knoxville Bar you basically get everything that you would from the likes of Forries or Peddlers, with an added bonus of the party atmosphere (even if it’s so thick you can taste it, like sweat). Let’s be honest for a second though, put yourself in any place where the music, people and drinks are ‘friendly’ and you're bound to have a good time.

LOOK I'M A TOURIST

The official tourist T- shirts being produced in the U.K. for the World Cup.



Sick..

Rooi-els- A small town with a big vibe

When one first hears the name Rooi-els, one tends to be a little reserved in judgment. At least I was. I mean, where the hell is this place? It’s not Bettys Bay or Hermanus- Its Rooi-els.
That being said I had the privilege of a ‘Rooi-els experience’ during the Easter weekend and shit, was I right, it’s nothing like Hermanus or Bettys- it’s better.

The first thing you notice upon your arrival to the relatively unknown holiday destination, is the Pub. This little ‘drinking hole’ is the part of town where all the exciting activities transpire. It was jam-packed the entire weekend. Next you will notice the copious amounts of luscious looking bush and shrub along the gravel road. These bushes might look spongy, but trust me, there are many underlying dangers. Next to catch the eye are the beautiful houses. They are all stunning, old architecture- classics. Moving along through this colourful town and you’ll find the ocean, accompanied by a golden – white beach (sounds good, doesn’t it?).

Okay, it’s no use driving all the way down to Rooi-els for the weekend if you aren’t going to take advantage of all the benefits that the gorgeous ‘dorpie’ has to offer (mentioned above). So get yourself some alcoholic beverages, some good music and get psyched. After that, take a trip to the pub and buy yourself the much vaunted ‘Painters Pallet’. This drink is not for the faint at heart and if you even think you’re not up to it, don’t kid yourself, get out of there- Speedy Gonzalez style! Following your trip to the pub, the walk home should involve, wait for it…bush- jumping! This is where you can experience the true beauty of Rooi-els. So in the words of the great Muhammad Ali “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” You see, you’ll soon find out that those juicy looking bushes aren’t actually that soft, so make sure the alcohol and adrenalin levels are pumping before attempting this.

You now have two choices: either go home and call it a night- a sensible choice- or push on to the beach. Personally, I chose the beach option, but that’s just me. With that choice behind you, get moving to the beach. If you have portable music, make sure it’s blaring (mostly to annoy the neighbours) to create a vibe for everyone involved. Once you reach the beach, be brave and swim- or don’t. Either way, just enjoy yourself. Take a load off.

A couple of surprises that you may encounter in this beautiful town include the likes of an extrememly vibrant (when drunk), in- love German lass. It's very rare to spend time with this one as she doesn't speak much- if at all. So interact as much as possible, and remember to have several bottles of Vodka handy for fear of boredom. Always keep a look out for a brunette, narcotics- induced woman, she is scarce but once you find her, she will never want to leave your side. She may even try sneak a cosy night indoors- as opposed to the comfort of a bush.

Personally, the inner beauty about Rooi-els are the lessons learnt. Having good times with good friends is one of the most valuable experiences in life. Rooi-els has a special way of galvanising that experience, and creates memories for life.

E.T. hacked to death

Last Saturday night, Eugene Terreblanche (known as E.T.), the leader of the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (AWB) was murdered on his farm in Ventersdorp. The alleged motive for the attack was a pay dispute between him and his workers- two African 'gentlemen', aged 28 and 15 years, who hacked and bludgeoned him to death, using your average 'gardening tools', a knobkerrie and a panga.

Now I’m not the biggest political devotee (because it bores me) but when the leader of South Africa's most notorious white supremacist movement is murdered by two young blacks, I found myself turning my attention toward the news more often than usual. Of course this just happened to occur at a time when his logical racial opponent, the equally loud- mouthed ANC Youth League president, Julius Malema, is running around roaring songs to the tune of “Kill the boer”. Now this does make for an interesting topic to converse about around the dinner table.

So the police are calling for calm and emphasising that the killing was over pay, and not at all politically motivated. Well that’s great; I really don’t think the AWB give a rat’s ass though. In fact they definitely don’t. They finally have something, some piece of leverage that they can use against their nemesis. They have something huge. A sacrifice, if you will.

While we may never know the truth, one thing’s for sure, the murderers (who at the time of writing confessed the murder to the police) are pretty much exactly what Julius Malema is shooting for. Let’s be real, they have definitely heard the “Kill the boer” song. And if I’m not mistaken, Eugene Terreblanche always described himself as a “boer”. That’s more than enough fuel for the AWB to spark something unseemly.

Honestly though, who phones the police when you’ve just killed someone on a farm and no- one has seen you do it? Maybe someone who believed it was right? Perhaps someone looking for acknowledgement for their ‘accomplishment’? I mean, hacking a body up into tiny pieces. What the fuck? Something is definitely up here. For one, there seems like there is a lot of anger being expressed. If you had a dispute about pay and felt like you needed to kill because of it, surely you would kill and get done with it? Unless, possibly, you’re trying to make a statement? Trying to be a hero?

Controversial doesn’t even begin to describe the impending disaster going down here. If Malema gets snuffed out, are all fingers going to be pointed at the AWB? Surely- although I wouldn’t be that quick to pounce, as I’m sure there are many others out there baying for blood.

Transkei – BE THERE OR BE SQUARE

The hidden wilderness. The magic island. Whatever you choose to call it, Transkei is just jaw dropping beauty, and an experience I have to recommend to everyone. I visited Coffee Bay over New Years last year, as most of the ‘tourist’ activities, parties and general good times happen there over the festive season.

Coffee Bay itself is freakishly easy on the eye. The valleys of fresh vegetation go on for miles, and you get to experience the full magnificence of your surroundings as soon as you peel yourself off your sticky car seat, and set foot onto some genuine Transkei mud (it's a long trip, trust me). Wow! It takes a few seconds to come to terms with just how incredible this rural wilderness is. Everyone knows accommodation is vital, and luckily Coffee Bay offers a few gnarly camp sites to choose from. There’s Bomvu and Coffee Shack. And if you’re feeling lavish there’s always the Coffee Bay Hotel- what a pleasure.

Warning: Approach the Coffee Bay experience with an open mind. It’s not everywhere you get offered shrooms every five minutes by ten year old children. Either embrace it, or block it out, your choice. The beaches are stunning, the water is warm, and the crayfish are delicious. A winning combination. A place such as this wouldn’t be the same without its festival atmosphere, and it doesn’t disappoint. The party kicks in as the sun sets, and the vibe doesn’t stop. Believe me, it’s crazy.

Here’s a couple of do’s and don’ts in Coffee Bay.

Do take shrooms on a remote beach with mates and enjoy yourself.
But don't get in your car and pretend it’s a space shuttle- you will drive off a cliff and hurt yourself, severely!

Do dance and party in a river. It’s fun, I know.
Don’t decide to dance and party in a river with massive blisters and cuts on your feet, the water is probably infected and your foot will have to be amputated. Just kidding. However you may very well contract a nasty infection, resulting in an uncomfortable situation involving a man from Umtata, a Tetanus shot and your arse. Avoid!

Do sleep in a tent. It's safe and the weather is perfect for camping.
Don’t think you'll be safe if it’s pitched in the middle of nowhere- this isn't Switzerland- so be wary.

Apart from those ‘minor potential mishaps’ Coffee Bay is a wonderful place to enjoy a vacation. Good food, pleasant accommodation and activities that will keep you constantly busy throughout your stay. Enjoy.

Tintin Smashes The Sevens

The annual Nadoes Sevens cricket tournament rolled around again this past weekend, and it was nothing short of an extravaganza. Hosted, of course by the immaculate Pinelands Cricket Club, I decided this would be the ideal opportunity to get the old willow out, and smash a few balls around the park. The morning started especially early ( 9:00am) and I wasn’t completely up to it as the night before ended in a trip to my namesake, Tinners- what a treat was had by all. Anyway I dusted off the booz that was reeking out of me, and headed to the field.

After a glorious exhibition of power hitting throughout the day, the eight teams that entered the tournament, along with the awe- inspiring supporters, retired to the clubhouse for some post match festivities. The clubhouse was packed as the dollies were rife, a real delight on the eyes I must add. Wow, they were pushing it! Bottles of Ramazotti were thrown around during prize giving, beers were downed at a scary rate, and the ladies were creaming. All in all it was a very festive atmosphere out there. What followed can only be described as DISCO HEAT.

By this stage my eyes resembled something of piss holes in the snow, and my vision was blurred to a point of no return. Fuck it, let’s line up another twenty Ramazotti’s and smoke two more beers. At this point it was becoming extremely difficult to talk to Captain Hadders, as he was also past the point of no return, and his speech was noticeably impaired. Basically we were fucked- along with everyone else. Good times.

Nadoes to me is something special, it’s completely nuts, but in the best kind of way. I think the vibe can be summed up by a female who attended the- ‘highlight of her life’ and dug every second of it. “ I wish I was a boy and played for the Nadoes”- true statement released on Facebook the following morning. Enough said!

Manchester United v Liverpool- The Atmosphere.

One word- hate. It separates every British football supporter from one another. And to add fuel to the fire, they have to share the same stadium, week in and week out. Just the thought of it is scary. No stadium in the world is big enough to house two different sets of supporters, that when it comes down to the nitty gritty, will kill for their heroes. Yes, you heard me- murder. Put that pride, passion and sheer stupidity in a stadium together and you’ve got yourself an earth-shattering atmosphere.

I recently had the privilege of catching the football spectacle that is Manchester United versus Liverpool. There is nothing bigger. This is it, the ultimate showdown on the football calendar. These players are absolutely the best on show, they are the best of their trade, and they are on display for all to see.

Because of the occasion, Supersport decided to leave out the pre-match in-studio analysis, and instead cut straight to live scenes from Old Trafford in Manchester. The atmosphere was electric. Constant screaming from the Liverpool supporters was drowned out unceremoniously by the United supporters again and again. The hatred was boiling over, and the air was filled with excitement. United’s fans proudly waving their favourite scarves in the air, letting all the traveling Liverpudlians know exactly where they were. The profanities were flaring and the gestures flying, as the build-up reached boiling point before the players stepped out. It’s not often you see a child throwing a middle finger across the stadium directed to the Liverpool fans, promptly followed by a high five from his father. The deafening noise continued throughout the game, and if anyone there thought that their voice would not be damaged after the ninety minutes, they were sadly mistaken.

The element that sets this contest- with its atmosphere, players and supporters- apart from anything else, is the history. So deep and rich, the history of the Manchester-Liverpool rivalry can not be matched. These players have grown up throughout their lives with one thing that is very clear: to detest the opposition and all they stand for. These athletes have been competing since their childhood years. And they know, on the professional arena, they will do battle once again for everyone to enjoy.

Something that can sum up exactly what this derby stands for are the captain's of the respective teams. Steven Gerrard (Liverpool), and Gary Neville (United). The camera’s cut to the tunnel where the two teams lined up before they took to the field. Captains up front, leading their respective sides into battle. There was a small hold-up so the teams stood side by side for at least five minutes. Gerrard and Neville did not even acknowledge that the other man was there. For the entire duration of the time they stared straight ahead, focused on the inevitable battle that was about to ensue. Superhuman concentration, chest- bursting pride, undeniable hatred and talent to burn. This was something special.

Regrettably I have not experienced this main event live, but I’d like to think that one day I’ll have the honour.




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Wat van die STOORRMERS!!

Wow I hope the boys can pull off a massive win this weekend. Lets’ keep the momentum steaming through the Super 14. Camaaaan!!

I mean, I hate the Cheetahs, the best thing they have accomplished since rugby started is transferring big Duane Vermeulen to the Stormers. Thanks Bloem, go ride another Harley. I mean what kind of self respecting rugby team runs out to the sound of 20 Harley Davidsons revving there engines. Are we common, or are we Cheetahs?

Speaking of Duane, I think he's standing up and deserves a little chat from P Divvy. He is colossal week in and week out and when he's not knocking three people backwards in the tackle he's crashing over for a try. Legend. Hope he gets the call up.

Knocking people out sounds familiar though, oh yes, Sereli! Sorry Cory Jane, next time mate, you just got rolled by a massive Fijian splif. I'm guessing no Tiger for you last week either.

Hope Tim Whitehead does well on his debut, there isn't a more deserving player in my mind, and I can't wait to see him step up to the Super Rugby level.

Fuck what an epic encounter. We smoked the Canes now lets show these Bloemfontein poppies how to play rugga. STOOORRMERS!! (Can't wait to see these brandy-loving Harley romantics shed a tear after the game)

New Zealand Beer Festival

New Zealand Beer Festival: Keg

Fall in love again. Well on first impression im going to have to say that seeing a fat guy hugging a keg does not get my love juices flowing, and doesn’t make me feel like I want to fall in love. I mean, I love beer don’t get me wrong, but with a fat guy attached, not so much. I feel like I need to steal that keg away from him, maybe that’s a bit aggressive, but still, at least it makes me want to drink beer, and if I was in New Zealand I would probably visit this festival.




I think it’s a stylish visual, but on a whole for me the entire campaign hinges on the graphics, which completely outperform the idea by far. The idea could be a little more clever and inventive, I mean come on, I don’t think this visual going to attract any women to this festival either. Funnily enough to me the people in the campaign don’t look like they are in love, they look like they’re tripping out, and mostly like hallucinating about the idea of getting drunk, or high, not sure. Either way its gets me thinking how desperate these characters look to be with their keg, beer bottle and jug- a little to desperate in my books.

It’s a beer festival though, and I would go there to drink copious amounts beer and alcohol, enjoy myself thoroughly, and probably fall in love. So, maybe it works? I can see the influence of the ‘Ghost’ touch in the ad, which has something to it, but not enough. Again I think the art work is amazing, but idea? Fat guy = fall in love, not in my day! Not even the day before Valentines Day.

If the objective was to achieve humour I’m not sold either, it might be funny to some, but not at all to me. Probably the best thing about the visual is the keg, which I actually do love! I think lots of beer drinkers will love the campaign, which is enough I suppose. A great ad, no. Pretty average actually.

Tintin heads to the Tens

The hype about the Cape Town Tens rugby festival was well marketed all throughout Cape Town since the beginning of the year so I was excited to get stuck in. Everyone wanted a piece of the action packed weekend as last year defied all expectations and was a resounding success. I think the way the Tens was marketed is testament to the skills of organisers Bob Skinstad (a good mate who I know is fully behind his brand) and Robbie Fleck. The team enlisted the help of Howard Kahn of Sports Network to head up the all important media and communications, who worked closely with Kreate, to continue to be the favoured portal of the world Tens community.

The vibe was hectic, and the Nadoes even more so. The Cape Town Tens girls looked steamy, but then again most of the girls did. Myself and Captain Haddock had a couple of ales before we arrived on Friday for the opening ceremony, so, naturally we arrived in the trusty hands of Snowy behind the wheel. Fortunately for us, our first fixture was cancelled due to the fact that Botswana Uni couldn't make there flight, or some such bullshit. So naturally, the okes got on the on beer train and after an eventful fines session with the Nadoes, myself and Hadders (Captain Haddock) were well smashed. Snowy, ofcourse, was the designated driver. What a champ! So we decided to hit the beer tent and get involved in the action.

There was a winning formula during the weekend, which satisfied everyones taste. The weekend promised many international superstars, a fun-filled weekend for the whole family, a good vibe and lots of beer and entertainment for the teams and independent visitors to the tournament.
If the organiser’s objective was to get people down to the Tens, throwing around international celebrities names and performers was definitely the right way to go about it. The beer was cheap, the entertainment awesome and the atmosphere electric! The beer tent was full of cheerful peeps the entire weekend, especially after nightfall where the usual suspects decided to push the boundaries and functions of the average liver...well mostly us!

Saturday rolled around as myself and Hadders rolled out of our respective beds!! Shit, Still drunk, but what can you do, theres a game at 1 and we got to be there! Nadoes played, won, and boozed hard after!! Stardard!! We watched the Stormers chuck a ball around against Boland at the new stadium, and promptly afterward decided to push it again. Saturday night was carnage, and well documented by Hadders! We were like blind retards walking thru the beer tent, having the time of our lives. When Hadders and me decide to get smoked theres no fucking around, shit gets hectic, that’s what we do!! Fuck me, Sunday morning- HELP!

I could'nt make our first fixture on Sunday because I was drunk, but its fine, the okes weren't bleak, they realised 9am was a pushing it time and we made it thru to the semi's anyway. Hadders decided to pack it in on Sunday so I was ace high, without the captain for Sundays’ adventure. After our quarter-final, which we lost unfortunately (we were definitely the better side) our main beer co-ordinater Uncle Hugh, decided it was time for one last fines session. Wow, did we relish it, the boys pushed through and Sunday at the Tens will never be the same. One word, Carnage. I ended up at Caprice with the legendary Tim Horan, Bob Skinstad and two very good mates. Chundering outside B.P, commandeering pies amongst other things were the agenda for the night. Last clear memory was sipping on ice cold vodka red bull provided kindly by the portoguese female chilling with us (good on you baby blanket). Great night, thumbs up.

Monday, not so good.

Rugby enthusiasts had rugby rugby rugby all weekend long, and quality rugger at that. The international side that competed put on a mesmerizing show for all the see, as they expressed their world class silky skills on the paddock. Maties once again came out triumphant (no vibe though!) as winners of the Premier division, and competed in a real top class final match against hosts Hammies.

Sherlock Holmes- Sickest movie on earth! (I think so anyway)

I recently had the pleasure of watching the latest installment in the Guy Ritchie masterpiece, namely- Sherlock Holmes. This movie rivals all of Ritchie's previous films, including the likes of Snatch and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. It’s insane to put it mildly!

Sherlock Holmes boasts a great cast, including Robert Downey Jr as Sherlock (stealing the show) and Jude Law as Dr Watson. Not to mention Rachel McAdams (she's SMOKING HOT!) and Mark Strong putting in massive performances and adding to the unbelievable aura surrounding the film.

You'll be completely convinced by Ritchie's cool, funky blend of the pipe-smoking detective and his rough-housing best mate, that you'll hardly ever have the time to think about the adventure that’s taking place in front of your eyes. By the end, you'll honestly sit there thinking to yourself how it is even humanly possible to create such a smooth ride from start to finish.

Robert Downey Jr.'s presence hits all the right marks, he's chaotic, smart and tough throughout the film, the complete package basically. But really, I think Watson's love for a boozing, rather rough around the edges yet extremely intelligent Holmes that brings the picture together. This relationship plays out so ceremoniously and leaves you in awe as you get completely entwined in their highs and lows. Ritchie's portrayal of extinct London life is also something to behold and really pushes this film to even greater heights. It shows that it more than just an action-packed block-buster.

Intense purists will most likely chunder at the sight of some altered details, but who actually cares really. I think it is a perfect reincarnation of an icon, especially for a new, more vibey generation. This film is actually too hot to handle. GO WATCH IT NOW!