Off Air Rants...

Love letter to Vodacom at the Waterfront...bless them.

2009-08-18T00:47:00.004+12:00

Just wasted an entire morning in the vague hope that Vodacom in the Waterfront could help me out. You know, do their thing and sort out my 3G upgrade...sadly not...systems down...for three hours...although they forgot to mention that part to me...

Dear Vodacom Waterfront,

I loved spending 3 hours waiting on you and leaving with nothing. It made me feel special and valued as a client. After all, we spend so little time together, other than once a month when you go into my bank account, like you have every month for the past 6 years or so and take your fill. It was nice for a change to be visiting you because you owed me.

The part where you made me sit down a second time after telling me an hour and half before that maybe I should come back later (having waited for systems to work), filled me with hope and love for your product. I could not wait to see you again instead of spending my time browsing around shops and whiling away the hours, when all I wanted was to be with you – and you made me wait so long. Just teasing? Naughty thing.

The part when you told me your systems were down – after spending another 15 minutes the second time round teasing me with photocopying and taking my bank card. I really felt like it was going to happen this time…we were so close…and then you told me once again you couldn’t. If I think about I should have told you that already – I knew your system wasn’t into helping me an hour ago. I knew it. I chose to believe it would this time…because you said so.

When you said to me I could walk around the Waterfront again while I waited I should have thanked you. After all “if you love them set them free”, right? Sadly I had already visited every shop in the mall waiting for you the first time round and unlike you, who obviously has the patience of Job and can wait all day, sadly I had better things to do.

When you said you would call, I felt so special. It meant that once again I could climb into my car, find and pay for parking at the Waterfront again, just to see you a third time in one day. How lucky I am to have you??

The part when your manager said “what do you want me to do about it?” I should have cried with love over your concern.

When he tried to explain that Vodacom was down, again tears nearly rolled down my cheeks. Firstly I thought you were Vodacom?

And secondly as a star crossed client I was hoping that you would have avoided telling me how the backend system of your brain works…sometimes my love, I don’t want to know how and what connects to what - and how its not your fault – I just want you to tell me your sorry and help put it right again.

The manager told me that the “other” Vodacom (whoever they are? Should I feel jealous?) hadn’t been able to give him an “ETA” (so precious) on when the problem would be sorted. Which is why I was surprised that you hadn’t mentioned that to me when I sat down for the second time? Or is the “other” Vodacom selective and evil in whom it tells? All I want from you is honesty – the truth my love.

Why did you keep me waiting around if you knew? I thought you were different.

Your friends gathered to listen to our conversation, stood at the side and laughed. How special I felt as guest in your home. So loved and cherished. In the end I am glad though that I did tell them to go - I Know they are your friends but at the end of the day my love being stared and laughed at when I am in your home just didn’t make me feel good. I had hoped you would deal with that?

The part where your friend offered to “fly to Jo’burg to make it work” was outstanding. I cannot tell you how special that made me feel. That some one would do that for me, although to be honest he did sound a bit flippant.

When I told him so, I think he realized that he was hurting me feelings and then offered to apologize on “behalf of all Vodacom”. How nice of him – so magnanimous (you can tell him that’s a “good” word as I am not sure he would be able to know that himself).

My love I feel that I may wait for you forever – I cannot anymore and feel that I need to go another place to fulfill my needs. Somewhere where they know what’s going on, don’t try and give me rubbish instead of an apology. Where they don’t try and tell me the intricate connections of the Vodacom network and why its not there fault that I wasted 3 hors of my day on their advice…naturally I wont leave the network -0 could you imagine the admin and pain. I just don’t feel that I will be visiting you anytime soon at the Waterfront…your performance is pathetic to say the least.

I am posting this from my phone – which you do operate – as my wireless connection at home is still out of order. Owing to the fact that you were once again unable to help me out.

You’re the best.
R

MJ is a Ivorian Prince...sort of...

2009-08-04T20:26:00.001+12:00

I shall rule you all when I return...

With more press on the King of Pop now than ever we are making sure we are keeping with the latest news, fact and fiction.

The latest to come out of the Land of the free and plastic is that Michael was rumored to have been laid to rest by an African tribe known as the Anyi. And why not indeed.

Michael reportedly visited the tribe from the Ivory Coast back in the early ‘90’s and they crowned him Prince Michael Amalaman Anohin (obviously they didn’t know he was already a King (of pop) back home). Although Michael didn’t release any albums under his new African name he was worshipped by the tribe who believed he had magic powers and would one day return and rule of over them (we believe that may have just been the Jesus Juice” talking).

According to them he had a DNA test done and found that he actually is a descendent of the tribe (in its self worrying as it means Jo Jackson may actually be a god as well).

Allegedly tribal leaders tried to have Michaels body released via the Ivorian American Embassy but unsurprisingly were turned down.

Not ones to give up they have stated that if the Americans or his family do allow them to bring his body back to their homeland they will do what needs to be done to lay the Prince (surely a demotion?) to rest.

They live in hope – and to be honest so do we.

Robbie Willaims ads a Jackson Tribute track:

2009-08-04T20:23:00.001+12:00

Well it’s worth the free publicity and marketing isn’t it!

Robbie Williams who is currently putting the final touches to his much anticipated next album (Reality Killed the Video Star) has called a last minute meeting in an effort to ad a new tribute track to Michael Jackson.

The album is set for realeas in October and is in the last stages of production but Williams’ explained, "Michael Jackson died. It's all so very sad. I couldn't get a lyric to fit on one of the new songs, so when he passed away I rewrote it with him in mind."

According to the record company the track is a moving tribute to the late King of Pop who died in June this year. To be honest we didn’t expected it to be a comedy tribute did we?

Airbrushing illegal?

2009-08-04T20:21:00.000+12:00

In the arms of The Madonna...mmm not so much...

(UK) Liberal Democrats are calling for the banning of “photo shopping” in magazines. From a stick think Kate Winslet to a rather busty Kiera Knightly airbrushing the stars has become so common place we don’t really notice any more.

The Lib Dems in an effort to build the self-esteem of young girls are now pushing for a ban on the art or at the very least disclosure on how and where the pictures have been altered or enhanced.

Citing the younger generations (and some older peeps lets not forget!) need to aspire to the stick thin and glossy look of many magazines, they point to the fact that the look is obviously unattainable due to the faked imagery.

We agree of course – but sometimes there is a need to hide the ageing and of course the hideous. We cite Madonna’s latest outing in Russia above as evidence.

First rule of lightening club...

2009-08-04T20:18:00.001+12:00

You just don't stand under it do you?
Brad Gifford woke up in hospital yesterday, less three layers of skin and severe burns to his shoulders and groin but thank fully lived to tell the tale.

Seeking shelter from a thunderstorm and neglecting to remember what his mother had always taught him, Gifford sought shelter for himself and his two cocker spaniels under a tree while the storm passed. Unfortunately it didn’t.

The 38 year old was hit in the right ear by a 30 000 volt bolt of lightening shattering his ear drums and his illusions of shelter.

Gifford woke in intensive care slightly worse for wear but still the owner of 2 cocker spaniels. Luckily he was holding their leashes as doctors surmised they would have been toasted in the ensuing strike.

Check your mate

2009-08-04T12:00:00.001+12:00

Becks takes 15 seconds off his life
A new poll has found that men spend an average of a quarter of an hour a day ogling women. The gazing, spread over an average of 10 different women per day, adds up to a staggering 11 days a year or 259 hours. That’s nearly a full year (11 months and 11 days) spent “window shopping” from the age you are 18 through to 50.

And it’s not just the men. Women come in at a healthy 20 minutes a day checking out the talent totaling just over 6 months in the same 32 year period.

(Poll: Kodak Lens Vision Centres, which questioned 3,000 Britons)

Wanted Dead or Alive...

2009-07-17T01:42:00.003+12:00

In the event of fire please use the Pepsi provided...

It seems that being dead is more profitable than being alive in some cases – when it comes to making cash that is. Naturally we would all prefer a living MJ but it would appear that since his death his albums have soared up the charts again, raking in a ton of cash for his estate.

Sounscan is reporting 1.1 Million MJ albums sold last week – up 37% on last week. Nearly 2.5 million albums have been sold since his death was announced.

I saw this earlier – many reports now coming out that Jackson’s dalliance with drugs started here – when a Pepsi commercial he was filing went horribly wrong. His addiction to pain killers apparently came about after suffering from burns received while filming.

Jacksons Pepsi Commercial with highlights...

Not sure about you but I cannot believe he carried on dancing not realizing he was on fire!

Fight of the accordions’...or something...

2009-07-16T00:15:00.003+12:00

Flight of the Choncords - above
shows only one in flight obviously - but they do both fly...

I know this has been spoken about before but reckon its worth revisiting! If you haven’t checked out “Flight of the Conchords” yet then you are missing out.

A mate of mine introduced me to the Kiwi duo a few years ago and I still think they are one of the most inspired comedy acts for years.

I love standup comedy but these guys just take the stage to a new level. If “Albie the Racist Dragon” and “Business Time” don’t get you laughing on a cold day like today I don’t know what will!

Actually it’s perfect “office” viewing. You know the type. You watch it at your desk. Laugh out loud and then everyone asks you what you’re watching and you say something to the effect of “hang on I will forward you the link”.

Before you know it you get up to go for coffee and someone in sales comes up to you and says “Hey! Have you checked out these guys Fight of the accordions’…?”

And you're like," Dude…firstly, “Flight of the Conchords” and secondly, who do you think discovered them?”

Take a deep breathe – this will happen but be that person today!

Business time: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGOohBytKTU

Albie the racist dragon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-jVAHAuiS4

Enjoy and tell the guy in sales he is so 2008…;)

R

Head Hunted! By Shell!

2009-07-14T14:16:00.005+12:00

Now using Gmail to recruit world wide...

Just got this via my work mail - extremely honored to be selected by for this job and very tempted. However I feel they might have got the wrong guy?

Not sure a radio jock should be let anywhere near a gas or oil rig for any significant amount of time.

Reckon this scam is going to catch a lot of people out – especially in these times.

“SHELL JOB OFFER!!!” – nothing subtle about that one then…

Naturally I have applied - nothing ventured...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Patrick - very exited - I have added my notes below in blue as I have a few questions. Of course very exited to be selected for this. After having found out that I hadnt just in herited $4 Billion USD from my long lost North African relatives who recently died in a very sudden and tragic coup, I am pretty much desperate for work to be honest...look forward to your reply.

Could you pay particular attention to my requests re. wet weather gear. Its a deal breaker I am afraid.

regards

Richard

Shell Petroleum Development Company of Nigeria.

#5 Rumuobiokani Road,

P.O.BOX 307

Port Harcourt,Nigeria.

Tel:+234-84-781053.

Client code /VIC/SPDC/ vol. 109

Attn: Applicant,

Subject: Shell Job Offer

You are hereby notified that your qualifications and experiences were found suitable for the requirements of Shell Petroleum Development Company offshore job .

(I have Matric, Web design and Ecommerce qualifications – so I could help market the oil online once we have drilled it out - I dont mind registering the domains etc as well...)

For verification and screening you are to submit your most recent resume through our e-mail and also you are expected to provide your working documents to our immigration consultant to enable him to process your immigration papers & visa,if you are employ by shell company.

(You mean I pay you several thousands Dollars USD in visa and admin fees…and thats when i get the job?)

Shell Petroleum Development Company with respect to the said project requires the services of expatriate personnels in Gas Engineering,> Electrical/Electronics
Engineering, Geoscience, Project Management, Software Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, Field Doctors,Captains,Security, Medicine, Chemical Engineering, Petroleum Engineering,Project Engineering,Civil Engineering,Environmental Management, Materials Engineering, Welding,Drilling,Accounting,and Economics whose
services will include project management, engineering,procurement, construction, transportation and installation,safety,hook up, commissioning of the production
platform, pipelaying etc.

(Basically any job you could think of then...and the ones you couldn’t think of are covered by the “etc.” – Do you need DJ’s???)

SALARY: Very Attractive (within 4.920 GBP-9.800GBP )monthly and will be
transferred to any Bank in any Country of your own. (I don’t own a country of my own – is that ok? Or are dictators really the only guys you are looking for currently?)

JOB LOCATION: Aderdeen,united kingdom & others location worldwide. (again pretty much anywhere you could think of in the world…you left out “etc.” on this one…oh and you spelt the UK incorrectly…)

choice through all transfers will be made in conformity with the existing
tax system in United Kingdom. (What does this mean? Please clarify…I thought Shell was a Dutch? Is that why you spelt UK wrong? Do you need DJ’s?)

CONTRACT DURATION: 48 months (Liable for upward review depending on your commitment and expertise) (I would be very committed from the start – does that mean we can extend from the beginning? Do you need DJ’s?)

DURATION OF WORK PERIODS: Three months work, one month pay leave. (Do I also get paid for the months I work? Or just the ones I take off? Will I need wet weather gear or do you supply?)

Interested and qualified persons should send their applications, detailed
resume/cv and copies of credentials to:
patriksmith002@yahoo.co.uk

Note: interview will be conducted online immediately. (Its 4am here at the moment – once I hit send do I wait for you to call? Are you up yet? Maybe use my mobile number as my family is asleep – can you let me know about the wet weather gear when you call – would like to get that sorted from the start.)

Faithfully,

Patrick smith.

Recruiter.

Shell Company.

Vodacom PLayer 23 Ad - loving it!

2009-07-14T03:31:00.004+12:00

Player 23 ;)

Just a quickie - how damn cool is the new Vodacom ad?

Sat down with comedian Malcolm Ferreira (Jan of “Jan and Elton” fame) on the show the other day and chatted about how his life has changed since moving to Cape Town and of course doing the Ad – have to say one of the nicest guys I have met in a very long time.

Check the ad here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-t9dVJTcBu0 if you haven’t seen it!

We also sat down with Malcolm and put him through his paces with shows “Rich List”

Check it out here!
New Rich List up with Jan "Malcolm F" (VODACOM - Player 23) - http://www.kfm.co.za/richlist.asp

When planes and pampers meet.

2009-05-04T22:37:00.003+12:00

They meet and plan your quiet time...

Flew home from Jo’burg last night. There are some significant flaying-parent changes I have picked up since becoming a father.

Although I was flying solo (wife and child at home) there were several people on board with their kids. I have flown previously and intensely hated sitting next to a child on a plane. Anything on a plane below the age of 3 will inevitably play up.

In 2008 BC (that’s Before Child) I would openly cringe and be irritable with said parents for even deeming to be on the same flight as me with the nappied ones. Kids were not made for flying. It’s a long and uncomfortable journey

even for those of us big enough to use the toilet on our own. But for small children it can be hell. To the uninitiated, young children cant equalize their own ears. This results in an almost instant blocking and pain for the child after take-off, which results in the inevitable crying. It’s painful as an adult but at least we can deal with it; as a child…well you can only imagine.

However ever since having a child of my own, my take on it is completely different. Whether I am accustomed to the crying now or realize that even when the baby is screaming the parents are doing their best to pacify them, I am more chilled and comfy with the idea of kids on a plane. Trust me there are few folks in the world that want their child crying and disturbing other passengers. It’s embarrassing and stressful for the parents. While you are saying “why are you not shutting that kid up?” under your breathe, said mum or dad is doing their best to do just that. Kids don’t come with an on off switch – it would be bliss if they did but they don’t.

They women who I was sitting next too had a 15 month old boy on her lap. They plane was delayed for take-off by an hour and she was already apologizing to me for the soon to be released pent up frustration from “Klein Jan”. But it didn’t bother me. For once I knew what was coming, that the parents were doing their best they could and that inevitably Klein Jan would do his best to make sure everyone was aware he wasn’t enjoying his time in row 15, seat C.

I did eventually move seats. Not because of the noise but rather to give KJ some more room to clamber about. But I didn’t get upset like I used too. I just smiled and knew I was helping his folks in the same way I hope someone would do for my wife and I when we travel.

And besides he had reason to complain. BA were as shocking as ever! How is it that internationally they are a dream to travel with and yet internally I would rather pass nails. Delayed by an hour at the start. Delayed at the end by 15 minutes while we waited for some local power to be connected. Maybe it’s ACSA or Comair who knows. The plane was badged with BA so I blame them.

I suspect so does Klein Jan.

Pigs of Conspiracy?

2009-05-01T18:30:00.003+12:00

The Jackson 5 fans turned out in their masses to get a glimpse...
I love conspiracy theories. Sometimes I don’t believe they are conspiracy but outright truths. On air yesterday EWN was reporting that in the majority of cases reported in Mexico, it is yet to be proven that it is actually “Swine Flu” that is causing deaths and illness there. The results are simply not back from the labs yet.

A mate of mine mailed me this morning with some interesting info below:

Hi buddy
This Swine Flu thing is getting out of control apparently. Do the research and you will find that the owners of Tamiflu the so called 'cure' predicted 531% sales growth in FY2009. It just so happens they made 330 million in the Q1 of 2005 from the 'Avian Flu' outbreak! And, to thicken the plot...Mr Rumsfeld, ex Us Sec of Defence is the Chairman of the company that owns the intellectual property rights to Tamiflu...

cheers
NHS

I am quite open to believing that this flu (now with a new name"the H1N1 virus" to make us fear it even more), is possibly just a scare tactic to make profits. It may exist and it may be deadly but what a perfect opportunity to make some cash.

I mean boy, who wouldn’t want to own a surgical mask making company right now?

BTW, Wasn’t Rumsfeld supposed to be still looking for Weapons of Mass Destruction somewhere? Maybe he found a new one in a new Desert just south of the States.

Does make you think.

The twitter phenom.

2009-04-23T21:13:00.003+12:00

Beware.It should come with a health warning

I have complicated my life insanely for 2009.

Studying a post grad at UCT Business school. Living the radio lifestyle, playing business-business, writing a movie and slotting in some Stand-up. Oh and wife, child, house hunting and all the other things that go with living.

So you would think I had pretty much filled up any spare space I may have had. But you would be wrong. So very, very, very wrong.

I have always maintained that I don’t have an addictive personality. I can say no easily when tempted (for the most part), however I think I might just have found my Achilles heel.

Twitter. I cannot stop.

I tweet all day. I check to see what Ashton is up to. Has Lily Allen hidden more tickets? Has Seth donned his thong? It’s insanity via a screen. I literally have to have every app that I can find for twitter downloaded on my Laptop, PC and phone so that I am never less than a second away from my updates. I have linked it up to FaceBook so I can share my “randoms” with anyone who will listen and people do! How much of a drug is that!

My wife now rolls her eyes at me the same way I do at kids who are self obsessed with Mix-it, when she sees my tapping away.

But I can’t stop though and I don’t want too either. I need to know what Stephen Fry is thinking. I live to know when Kim Kardashian is heading to the gym and if I don’t know where in the world Skinstad is I may as well be dead.

It cannot be legal because it is so damn good!

BTW the way you can find me here www.twitter.com/richardhardiman - yup I am that obsessed.

Hardimans Top 5...

2009-03-25T04:56:00.003+13:00

...things to do with a Trillion Zim Dollars...

5) Play “Who wants to be a gizzilonaire” with your mates…

4) Increase your bust size by stuffing your bra…

3) Play Zimbabwe monopoly and buy yourself three hotels, a Tobacco farm and Harare

2) Buy 6 Patricia Lewis albums

1) and the number one thing to with a Trillion Zim dollars…buy shares in Lehman Brothers.

Just so you and I know. I am alive.

2009-03-24T19:09:00.002+13:00

I had to check - just in case I was dead and I could claim on it.

http://www.dha.gov.za/enquiry/living/status/living_status.asp

Maybe you should too...its better than feeling for a pulse...

The Dalai Lama, Chinese politicians and the goverment of SA....

2009-03-24T18:37:00.005+13:00

The Dalai Lama, arguably one of the world’s most respected activist’s for peace and harmony on this planet has been refused entry to South Africa to attend a peace conference.

Lets quickly examine the facts shall we. According to radio reports this morning our erstwhile government of SA reckons that the time is not right due to something about the soccer world cup and something or the other. Huh? More believable reports suggest that the real reason is that China (not a huge fan of Mr. Lama) has put pressure on the boys upstairs to deny him a visa as its very much against him doing much in the world like promoting peace etc.

So in essence, a country once the battle ground for imposing its will on the masses; a land with one of the worst records of human rights abuse but one which now claims to be free and on its way to reconciliation chooses to bow down to an economically powerful China. A country with one of the world’s worst records of human rights abuse still to this day, and one that is making no obvious transformation to freedom and democracy. And of course the country that made the Dalai Lama effectively homeless along with the vast majority of his countrymen.

Those now in power know more than anyone what it is like to be exiled from their country and homeland.

Those in power know more than any of us what it is like to seek the aid and understanding of those who have the power to change what is wrong in our world.

However those that have been exiled, jailed and cast from their country because of what they stood for now refuse a man who is doing nothing more than the same.

It’s incomprehensible that you can morally make this judgment and think it ok to do so.

You are fools. There is no other way to put it. How stupid do you think we are? How long do you think you will last this way? Let those in the ANC who understand what is needed in this country rule and those that are simply in it for the money, the power and the hunger to strike out at those that dissent leave.

I am under no illusion that the ruling party can make this country great, they have the power and the people with intellect to do so however those that are making these kinds of decisions are not the ones that will do so.

UPDATE:**

Motlanthe's spokesperson, Thabo Masebe, said the president did not want the Dalai Lama to attend a peace conference in Johannesburg on Friday.

"It would not be in the interests of the country to invite the Dalai Lama to South Africa at this stage, because the attention of the whole world is on us as the host of 2010 Fifa World Cup.

For more read here:http://www.iol.co.za/index.php?set_id=1&click_id=13&art_id=vn20090324062119369C291105

RiRi...why I feel less for her now..

2009-03-11T22:03:00.000+13:00

I have been mulling over the Rihanna thing for a while now. Naturally like the majority of people I was disgusted at what had been done to her. I was disgusted at that people were jumping to Chris Brown’s defence – arguments such as “he is a nice guy really”, and “Chris is young ” were thrown up from celebrity quotes and press releases.

But this is not one of those trial by media epiosoides. There is no defence for beating up a defenceless women. There is no excuse to attack anyone just because you are having an argument. Friends of mine even used the “she must have said something wrong or done something wrong to make him do it. And that friend is a women!

Its pretty simple guys (and girls) – no excuse. And if you start making an excuse then you are on your way to justification. It’s a very dangerous territory.

There is however a new dilemma. Most, myself included, cannot understand why she has gone back him? Love? The same love that hit her and strangle her? It’s quite amazing to see how this cycle of abuse plays itself out and how we don’t acknowledge that our situation will be the same.

I am willing to bet that Brown cried a lot, pleaded with her, blamed it on his past, said he cannot live without her, she is the only thing that can make him get through this and change him…etc. etc. I have never been abused but I will bet that if you have been in a similar type of relationship that this all sounds quite familiar in some way or the other.

So here is Rihannas dilemma as I see it. We all backed her 100% to leave him – move on, she deserves so much better etc. We felt for her. Hated him. But she went back.

Now presuming that the cycle of abuse is in play, there is little doubt that he will hit her again. But what does she do his time? The world saw it happen last time, the world asked her not to go back and she did.

So what will she do? This time she will remain silent. Not because she wants to maybe but because she has too. She is in the public eye. She was given her chance to make a change and didn’t so next time I might not be so sympathetic. You wont be either. Sure we will feel bad for her but not as bad as the previous time.

I now in a way dislike her for her lack of courage. She is an intelligent healthy women with amazing prospects, who has been attacked by an ill bred 19 year old whom she chooses to stand by. In an odd sense I have lost respect for her in her choice to remain with him.

And before you say “yes but maybe there were specific circumstances etc…”, if you can find a specific circumstance let me know – I for one cannot think of a reason to hit her even if she started the argument.

I feel for her. But not in the same way now as I did. It's just sad.

Stormers. it's clouding over...

2009-03-02T20:10:00.003+13:00

There is a monkey on our back - we just dont know what it is...

I won’t ever back anyone else. I am a stickler for these types of things. I grew up in Cape town. Province, Stormers, Cobras and Ajax.

But man they are not making it easy right now!

Ultimately I could make the easy switch right? We all have friends who have changed over to Ferrari because they were winning. It’s easier to cheer for the Sharks because you would be a “winner” by default. Around the braai with the guys you can laugh under your breath when they talk about the latest round of losses at Newlands. They can scoff at your (our) team and be smug – because ultimately they jumped ship. You will always be a winner if you have no loyalty, it’s a fact of life. You will never be a true supporter though (of any team) because your bags are always packed and you are ready to leave the moment the team starts slipping in the logs – in parasite terms you jump host in order to survive.

So the Stormers are losing.

I for one thought this would be the year. We played with gust and glory in the dying embers of last season – the Rassie magic seemed to have taken hold albeit too late in the season but there was hope for 2009. On paper we have one of the strongest SA sides. Some 11 Springboks, some talented players coming up through the ranks and arguably one of the best captains on SA grass, who not only leads but plays his heart out everytime. We have Monty and AJ as back-ups on the bench for crying out loud! Our reserves are some of SA’s most capped players? And yet we will still can’t get it right on the field.

I heard guys on the weekend saying we didn’t get it together. We were sloppy – we just don’t care, we lack a winning mentality. I don’t agree. Any professional sportsman has a winning mentality – you don’t play lose.

I to be honest thought we had moments of magic out there – we were gunning their line and putting them under pressure. Some of our runs were damn classy. We lost it through some stupid handling errors, crap passes and a player mentality amongst some that would indicate they would rather go for glory on their own than have to rely on the team.

Luke Watson, I feel ,is still trying to stem the boo’s by getting the ball across the line (why the hell are we booing anyway? He is playing in a Stormers jersey not a bok one – be the man and move on) . He had an awesome game last week, at this level of rugby he really does excel and puts in some stellar moves – disagree?. Love him or hate him the man grinds the game and makes the ground. He just seems to want that try so badly that he is actually putting himself and the team under needless pressure. Schalk Burger. Love him too but without the hair there seems to be a Samson mentality going on. He seems off the boil a bit. Not really in the game. The season.

Bekker, Januarie, De Villiers – always there and in the mix – although perhaps Ricky we could leave the kicking for a bit – definition of insanity and all. It didn’t work the first time or the other few hundred. Inspired try though!

I am not sure what goes on behind closed doors but there is something smacking of desperation going on in the Stormers camp. We have the right players. The right captain. The Right coach? I think we do – certainly with Gary Gold backing him up.

So what’s wrong? I have no idea – hopefully you may have some insight. Post it here and lets chat.

Back to my earlier point though – born and bred in Cape Town there is only one choice of rugby team. I couldn’t go anywhere else just because of losses. I prefer to stick it out – take the abuse and love the team we have.

Hope you feel the same. This will come right!

When the stupid speak.

2009-02-12T20:14:00.002+13:00

Julius Malema.

Pratt.

Thats all really. What else is there to say. He says it all himself.

HRH Chelsea no more...

2009-01-28T19:29:00.003+13:00

Stamford Bridge and Potter break up...

It must be hard for an heiress to give up a shot of being Queen of England one day. I realize that Chelsea Davy would have had to kill William in order to make that happen but let’s face it if anyone had access to her boyfriends brother it was her. She could make it happen.

Or rather she could have.

It seems that girl named after an up market borough and the lad with ginger hair and army combats have gone their separate ways. It seems to me that this girl is incredibly bright or incredibly stupid. As the first option won’t give us much of a story here I am going to opt for the latter in this case. It makes it more interesting. According to the tabloids the main reason she went was the fact that she could no longer stand his wayward ways. Girls forever flirting with him and Harry quite happy to flirt, kiss etc. etc. back.

In a normal relationship this would obviously be unacceptable but when you a royal and in line for a comfy seat at Buckingham palace, should your girlfriend off your brother, its fine. It’s more than fine; in fact its damn well expected!

Royals are notorious for copping off with floozies at any opportunity and monogamy is not really a word in their hot potato vocabulary. This ginger apple didn’t fall far from his organically powered father after all.

It’s a fact of life and you deal with it. The payoff is that you get a title, a cozy life and something called a “winter palace” to stay when it snows. Everybody courtesy’s and bows and you get to cut great big ribbons off newly built old age homes. The food is alright, the in-laws a bit dotty but overall life is not too shabby. Yes your husband might put it about a bit but then you are expected to do the same.

To cry over this is would be very sad indeed. They are both young, both wealthy and at the end of the day both will be shagging the next option that comes along.

I think she is a bit stupid though – if you can remove the emotional betrayal (I am sure it would get easier as time goes by) the life of a royal seems to be quite unique. I say stick it out a bit, marry him and if it’s still not working then get divorced, grab a palace and shag the butler.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Watson - did we listen?

2008-11-13T20:39:00.001+13:00

This is by no means a platform to defend Luke Watson. But I think we should look hard at the facts here. Let’s face it anything Watson does or has done since his ill-fated selection to the Jake White’s Springboks, in our eyes, will be negative. Nothing will make us love him and nothing will endear him to a nation who now believes he would actually throw up on a Springbok jersey.

So Watson? As a player at provincial and Super level he is a great fetcher and although in my opinion never passes the ball enough, he makes ground and is always willing to get in there and have a go. I could name several players from various teams that certainly don’t carry that attitude at Springbok level currently (just need to review the Wales game to see that). But let’s look at Springbok level – Watsons not Springbok. I agree with Jake White when he said that Watson comes with his limitations (and not just his Father). He is fairly predictable and perhaps at international level is unable to show the same flair that he occasionally carries when playing for the local sides back home. But he is a hard worker and as we all know he was voted Player of the year back in 2006. Just a shame that the following season was a far more lackluster.

But do ever look at Watson as player? Luke has made more press than anyone else in recent rugby history but none of it is for his prowess on the feild. As is so often the case in SA, it’s less about the sport than the politics behind it.

Do we HONESTLY believe that he wanted to throw up on the jersey? No. It’s a figure of speech to convey how he felt.

Should he of said it? Hell no. but it made a damn good story.

Is rugby run by a bunch of good old boys at the top (I am staying away from quoting Watson directly here…) who inevitably control the game? Who are we kidding? Of course it is! To be honest the same can be said for soccer in this country. Dutchman, Welshman or Chinamen, it’s big business and there will be those who want to get their hands on the cash and control it as tightly as they can – it’s a legacy sport and certain people feel they own it and won’t give that up for anything. The only thing he is guilty of in this case is attacking that stranglehold in public – however to get it out in the open where else do you do it?

Returning to my first point Watson is damned whatever he does – we will never love him because he attacked something we love and live by. That game we watch on a Saturday – get passionate about, scream at the ref for. However very few of us are involved behind the scenes. Very few of us know the truth and doubt we ever will. We just want to see a game being played and a team that wins. We don’t want to know about the dirt behind emblem or the fact that it’s run by an old boys club. We just want to see the side lift the trophy at the end of the day and anyone who distracts or detracts from that will be vilified and attacked – be it Watson or the Ref on the day.

I challenge anyone to look at their lives and their jobs and say that they are completely happy with the corporation that they work for. That there aren’t niggles in the system – stuff we would love to change and shout out about. Make no mistake rugby as a business is no different.

Watson sadly, in the eyes of the media, had no leg to stand on from the start. Whatever he said would get shouted down. We would find a reason to hate him even if he hadn’t offered us one on a silver platter. Largely the media’s fault and somewhat his fathers, he hasn’t chosen his battles well in the press – but I doubt that was ever his intention.

Isn’t it funny though, that when Herschelle Gibbs's is dropped from the side for breaking curfew or arrested for allegedly driving drunk, we just shake our head and say, “oh well that’s just Hersch, what do you expect from the bugger – what a character!”. But when it somebody we are trained to hate via the press, we immediately request nothing less than a roasting at the stake and nothing less ban from the sport. Had Watson been an anti-hero like Gibbs, Botham or Warne maybe we would have cut him slack and actually listened to what he was saying. Read between the lines as it were. He obviously had something to say.

At least it looked like he wanted to play, albeit he had an odd way of expressing it.

The Code Of Man and his Friend.

2008-10-31T20:51:00.002+13:00

The "Buddy System" is critical but it comes with rules...

1: Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella.

2: It is OK for a man to cry ONLY under the following circumstances:
(a) When a heroic dog dies to save its master.
(b) The moment Angelina Jolie starts unbuttoning her blouse.
(c) After wrecking your boss's car.
(d) When she is using her teeth.

3: Any man who brings a camera to a stag night may be legally killed and
eaten by his friends.

4: If you've known a guy for more than 24 hours, his sister is off limits
forever unless you actually marry her.

5: Moaning about the brand of free beer in a buddy's fridge is forbidden.
However complain at will if the temperature is unsuitable.

6: No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man.
In fact, even remembering your buddy's birthday is strictly optional. At
that point, you must celebrate at a strip bar of the birthday boy's choice.

7: In the mini-bus, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the
weakest.

8: When stumbling upon other guy watching a sporting event, you may ask the
score of the game in progress, but you may never ask who's playing.

9: You may fart in front of a woman only after you have brought her to
climax. If you trap her head under the covers for the purpose of flatulent
entertainment (commonly known as a Dutch oven), she's officially your
girlfriend.

10: It is permissible to drink a fruity alcohol drink only when you're
sunning on a tropical beach ... and it's delivered by a topless model and
only when it's free.

11: Only in situations of moral and/or physical peril are you allowed to
kick another guy in the nuts.

12: Unless you're in prison, never fight naked.

13: Friends don't let friends wear Speedos. Ever. Issue closed.

14: If a man's fly is down, that's his problem, you didn't see anything.

15: Women who claim they 'love to watch sports' must be treated as spies
until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to drink as
much as the other sports watchers.

16: A man in the company of a hot, suggestively dressed woman must remain
sober enough to fight.

17: Never hesitate to reach for the last beer or the last slice of pizza,
but not both, that's just greedy.

21: Never allow a telephone conversation with a woman to go on longer than
you are able to have sex with her. Keep a stopwatch by the phone. Hang up if
necessary.

22: The morning after you and a girl who was formerly 'just a friend' have
carnal, drunken monkey sex. The fact that you're feeling weird and guilty is
no reason for you not to nail each other again before the discussion occurs
about what a big mistake it was.

23: It is acceptable for you to drive her car. It is not acceptable for her
to drive yours.

24: Thou shall not buy a car in the colors of brown, pink, lime green,
orange or sky blue.

25: The girl who replies to the question 'What do you want for Christmas?'
with 'If you loved me, you'd know what I want!' gets an Xbox 360.
End of story.

26: There is no reason for guys to watch Ice Skating or Men's Gymnastics.
Ever.

27: We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really
know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the
definition of each is listed below:

'GUTS' is arriving home late after a night out with the guys, being
assaulted by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to say, 'are you
still cleaning or are you flying somewhere?'

'BALLS' is coming home late after a night out with the guys smelling of
perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your Wife squarely on
the ass and having the balls to say, 'You're next fatty!'

I hope this clears up any confusion,
The International Council of Man Laws.

There is a reason why Communism failed. It required that you lied constantly.

2008-10-30T18:50:00.002+13:00

and the results are in...

I am looking for one article, scrap of paper…maybe even a misheard quote where the ruling party says, “oh yes! We did make a mistake there..terribly sorry about that”. Instead all I hear is denialism. Of course we didn’t do that. Of course people are not leaving the party. Of course Mbeki will support the party in the upcoming elections. Naturally we did not deviate from the freedom charter.

Its endless. Surely a modern day party should realize that it is allowed to have faults. Make mistakes and own up to them. It’s all part of growing and learning. Instead of constantly denying wrong-doings, consistently sounding like communist spin-doctor’s from the 60’s and 70’s start owning up to some mistakes here and there.

Trust me when I say people will start liking you more. This constant rant and denial against a possible failing of anything in the party is getting to the point where I will not be surprised if we start blaming colonial rule, the UK and USA for the failing of service delivery of the catering at the next slap up dinner / get-together.

Can we all just grow up and move the hell on? The majority of South African citizens want to see action. Some want houses, some want better safety and some just want to see their elected officials grow the f*ck up and start doing their jobs instead of finding every excuse to blame someone / something else for their job not been done.

If you are sitting at lunch, racking up huge bills at the tax payers expense while your portfolio is to deliver a better life to the people you serve and you can’t understand why the populous are asking questions of you, then you sir / madam are as bad as the last government.

Denial and blame are the weapons of old politics and the downfall of old rule. We as a country are better than that.

It’s not about race, getting one over on your perceived enemies or seeing how much wealth you can grab before your time in the sun is over.
It’s about making a difference – the difference that so many people (including yourselves) fought and died for.

Now grow up and f*cking start working.

NCA - turned it wasn't so bad for us...

2008-10-27T22:53:00.001+13:00

Sunset on banking vultures...
NCA (National Credit Act). We moaned like drains when it came in but man are we happy about it now.

The credit party that the banks were having had to end at some point – if I think back to this time last year, I was seemingly offered every way of taking credit, I and they could think of. New car? Hundreds of thousands available via my bond…why not take a vacation and charge it? If they thought they could appeal to your sense of “easy come-easy go” they pounced on it. I actually turned down a credit card with 100k limit…what the hell? I could have nipped out and picked up a car with one easy swipe – no questions asked!

Let’s be honest, the banks probably knew quite well that by the time the NCA came into full force the party would be winding up. They went into full “sell, sell, sell!” mode to off load as much credit as they could before, legally, they would hamstrung to do so. They flooded the market with easy schemes and easy dreams. What they probably didn’t see was the Credit Tsunami that came via the States and Europe. Make as much as you can now out of those who we won’t be able to hit later and we will be smiling for a longtime, they perhaps thought.

Mmm…then came a worldwide market meltdown and here we sit. They extended cash at an unbelievable rate and now those who took it are now under huge pressure to pay it back – and it’s only going to get worse. What happened to the banks being the ones you could trust with your money. Places of safety for your hard earned cash? They rip us off, give advice that financially suits them and charge you for every move you make. Sadly there is little choice but to keep your money in the bank but it irks me to know that while it is sitting there, they are finding ways to erode it for me. If you stuck R1000 in the bank right now and left it for a year, I am damn certain that despite any interest added you would be a few Rand down by the end of 12 months. Charges for having an account…charges for adding money, charges for internet access to statements, atm charges…the list is practically endless.

The NCA perhaps came in a little late but I think saved us more than we know. Had the banks not been reigned in we could still be in the midst of there “get out of jail free” mentality (free at x amount of interest over x amount of years – no questions asked).

While it makes it harder to access cash at the same time it is a built-in protection scheme that saves us from ourselves.

I actually hope the banks suffer – we have one of the highest charges for banking in the world, a monopoly of 4 institutions and rip-off mentality that exists throughout the entire industry. Banks should be making money for you and I by investing that cash properly. Not building on profit by charging us to use our money.

Hansie Whinehouse

2008-10-17T19:05:00.002+13:00

"Amy goes for Hansie's tried and tested reasoning. Excepted I believed Hansie"

Who would have thought it – Amy Crackhouse and Hansie Cronje have far more in common than I first thought.

Both were obviously very talented people; I deliberately use the past tense here as I think Amy has shown nothing of late that shows there is any talent remaining in her skeletal frame. And both made a lot of money from their chosen professions. But the single greatest link that binds these two together is that Amy is now claiming that “the devil makes her do it” too!

I have completley lost respect for this women. Bleeding heart liberals may now start throwing eggs at me and say that I have no sympathy and to be honest they would be right. I have zero sympathy for her. For instance, as seen in the press today, while attempting to lay tracks for her next album…

“Amy, 25, only managed to play a repetitive tune using two notes on her £3 000 ($5 279) guitar and eventually became so frustrated she smashed up the instrument and began screeching that Satan was giving her drugs. “

Tell me how one should be sympathetic to a person that continuously abuses drugs and fails to keep concert commitments? Has screaming matches with her fans in the streets and moans that the devil is her dealer?

She had it all at her feet. Huge success, an adoring public and parents that obviously care for her and only want the best. And how does this little skinny-assed excuse for a bee-hive repay her folks and fans? By continuing to act out like a 2 year old with a used syringe and dealer on speed dial.

Her excuse that the devil made her do it is so poor it is frightening. There are plenty of pop stars out there that manage to live a great life, be successful and handle themselves in public without too much of a problem. This attention seeking brat however believes appearing on stage and ranting on about her incarcerated “husband” is the reason people paid good money to see her.

Sadly she has become more of a sideshow at the funfair than the decent singer and entertainer she once set out to be. I wrote a similar article on Britney last year when she was at her worst. She has made a comeback second to none and it’s great to see. But there is a difference here. We expected Britney to return – it was really just a matter of when. I am very afraid to say that with Whinehouse I see very little chance of that happening.

While I believed Hansie and understood where he was coming from, I am sad to say I don’t believe Whinehouse. She still believes it is everybody else’s problem and carries a woe-is-me attitude. It’s not everybody else’s problem though is it.

It’s yours and you need to see that.

Wags, Swags and SA soccer

2008-10-17T00:16:00.003+13:00

Smash a Bently and stumble around drunk for crying out loud!

England coach Fabio Capello recently banned the wags entourage from travelling with the players to games abroad. His reasoning was that players were been distracted by the circus that tends to accompany the likes of Posh, Cole and the rest.

I am not sure why but thankfully we seem to escape the WAGS scenario with Bafana Bafana and other sports here. Yes their wives and girlfriends travel with the team I am sure. But the media hype that surrounds the comings and goings of UK players and their shopaholic-swipe happy other halves, seems to have largely escaped the press clippings in SA when it comes to our own.

Maybe it’s because (a) Bafana have not won anything significant for a while or (b) we just don’t care too much for the circus.

Let’s analyze the two.

Firstly by comparison the England Team has won nothing of late either worth texting home about either. Their trophy cabinet currently looks like a Zimbabwe Pick ‘n Pay, so it cannot be the lack of silverware that lets the SWags (South African Wags) fly below the radar here at home. Although many don’t realize, SA soccer stars in top teams make a pretty penny and are not shy about showing it off. Remember the majority of SA’s finest are not from privileged backgrounds and very often remain living in their communities, where they are quite rightly unadulterated heroes.

Given that you are getting anywhere from 25k through to 100k a month plus bonuses, you are suddenly thrust into the world of cash, hangers-on and wanting to have some fun. So where are the pics of our guys stumbling out of clubs? Trashing a Bentley or two and then throwing a punch at a pap?

I will tell you. They don’t exist. SA’s culture of paparazzi and celebrity adoration and stalking is practically non-existent. We are far more concerned with Aaron Mokoena’s (when home) form, than we are his girlfriend/wife’s shopping habits. SA cricketers are dating or married to some of the most sexiest women alive but we rarely concern ourselves with their fashion sense and hair-do’s.

SA is a nation that just does not do local celebrity, sport or otherwise. Why is it when we see Posh and Becks in Heat we drool and ah, but when we see Lee Anne Liebenberg shopping at LV we mock? Both pictures were more than likely planted by publicists. Both shots were there to push the celeb status of the person and managed very carefully.

I have to go with (B). We just don’t care for the local circus. It’s the same reason we tend to support glory clubs in the UK – the reason Real, Man United and Chelsea have some of the most lucrative merchandise businesses in the world. We look beyond our borders for entertainment and gloss – don’t get me wrong. We support our teams to the death here but we aren’t interested in the side shows.

It would seem that it’s a good thing for SA. International gloss and gossip is fine but when it comes too actually what happens on the pitch we are not blinded by the flashbulbs.

Now if we could just start winning we would have an unbeatable pres clipping.

The Ferns up against the Roses...the Garden of Rugby.

2008-10-16T21:11:00.004+13:00

The All Blacks first look at options for a new logo...
I am beginning to think that maybe just getting rid of the Springbok emblem is the way to go. Defeatist? I am not so sure.

Like many things that involve politics, you can argue as much as you want with the system but ultimately “the system” will get its way. When the “system” introduces an idea into the public space, “the system” has generally already made up its mind. Read, “Let’s just talk about the Scorpions…”, “Perhaps Zuma would make a better President…” and “May I suggest honorable members that we pretend AIDS does not exist…oh look a potato, that will help…”.

At the heart of the matter the Springboks will always be the Springboks. The Kiwis play with a leaf emblem (you thought the Protea was a touch feminine?), yet we never hear Bladen exalting the Tries of the Silver Ferns! We rarely here cries of “go the Red Roses” at Twickenham and I sincerely doubt we will here “Go Proteas Go!” The Boks will always be the Boks regardless of what they wear. As Naas Botha pointed out – he never played for the jersey, he played for his country. Just as the national soccer side will forever be Bafana Bafana, so will our Rugby side be, colloquially, the Springbok.

This is not an article that pushes to end the springbok emblem but rather a suggestion. If the powers at be want it gone, it will pretty much happen. We have learnt this. Idiotic suggestions that Bafana Bafana should then carry at least 8 white members in its side, shows ignorance. Whites are a minority in this country – a just important part of the population as any other but still a minority. Cries of “We made this place what it is” also should fall on deaf ears and rightly so. Look what we made and look at what we did…just look.

Most whites stand around and tut-tut at the Springbok emblem being challenged. For years along with many other team sports in SA, whites were the only ones allowed to play. Damn right there will be people a little aggrieved.

Objectively the commercial brand of the Springbok does carry weight – but only because we have a winning team with 2 World Cups under their belts. Trust me , were we a side that lost continuously, it wouldn’t matter what the side was called. Commercially it would be a non-entity. No disrespect to soccer but let’s be honest, when you lose game after game, who cares what you’re called…we don’t even want to know you.

We have a strong player base of all colors in this country – just look at Craven week and our under-21 teams. Then ask yourself where these players go? Why do we see younger brothers of older players coming up through the ranks continuously. Yes they are damn good but they also know people, coaches, mangers and those in administration. Like any business it’s not what you know…

There is a very strong argument for players been lost in the system when they do not have the backing, the ear or the family footing within what is generally regarded as an old boys club in Rugby.

I am not saying that the system is or isn’t built on nepotism and protectionism. I am just saying that we need to look objectively at the facts and remove as much of the emotion as possible from both sides – who cares what Danie Craven said – he is not running things anymore and with al ldue respect in this case he was wrong. Perhaps in the next World Cup it will see the Red Roses up against the Silver Ferns in the semis…the Protea’s up against whatever the Wallabies national flora is, but if we are there and we are winning this argument will be long forgotten.

Cant believe I am saying this...

2008-10-13T21:15:00.004+13:00

When's Lukes Tape coming out? "What's On Luke?"
Ok this is going be the oddest call I have ever made.

While I don’t agree with Luke Watsons comments that have come to light over the weekend, I do think we should hold off on passing judgment until the truth (in whatever form) is revealed. There is no doubt that on the face of it Watsons comments were out of order, private or not. When you represent a brand no matter how much you dislike it – bad mouthing it in a semi-public environment is not on.

However, it is quite clear that like the rest of the country at this time, there is a lot of politicking going on in rugby and it has to be said that whoever released these comments to the press may have the “other” sides agenda to push. The press has become a tremendous and powerful weapon in this country, where rumor and hearsay can do huge damage very quickly. His comments were obviously released for a reason – there is no doubt that our reaction is exactly what was wanted. Our emotions are being played on here and we have to be cautious of overreacting in a way that makes us look like puppets. There are always two sides and anything Watson says that is remotely catalytic will make headlines.

Of course we are up in arms – its inflammatory stuff! But let’s just wait and hear from the Watson camp.

I am not a fan of his – I do believe that the Watsons may hold too much of a sway in rugby circles and are possibly fighting a fight that goes beyond equality and representation in rugby. It would not be a big step to believe that there are very personal issues involved in these regular spats.

However for a change lets all take a deep a breath and not get sucked into media hype. I work in it and I know. What is hype today makes cash today however there will be a new headline tomorrow to make new cash.

A Springbok by any other name...

2008-10-11T03:16:00.003+13:00

Even the Flytrap would be more "vicious" as an emblem

I take issue with removing the Springbok emblem from the rugby side. While I get where some are coming from, that it represents a bad part of our history, it’s also represents a very unifying part of our more modern history. The Rugby World Cup has been won twice since democracy was installed into our lives with the Springbok emblem leading the way.

If we have to resort to using other national symbols such as the Protea we are just changing things for the sake of doing so.

And what the hell is the Protea anyway? Yes it’s indigenous to our shores but it’s not a sports emblem! We are a nation of the Big 5! We have the choice of some of the greatest predators known to man living in our backyard and we opt for flora?

It also has to be said that as a brand the Springboks are a huge commodity to this nation – it acts as an ambassador for this country and brings in cash.

Changing the emblem now will just be someone’s small-minded brain’s way of saying “I told you so”…

Grow up.

The Springboks are more representative of this country than any other sports team out there achieving at international level.

Writers sun block....

2008-10-09T22:02:00.003+13:00

Ummmph..

Not sure what to put up here today…Thursdays are very much like a Tuesday. Its an inbetween day…it’s not a Monday (start of the week so has its place). It’s not a Wednesday (middle of the week and a mid-week breather) and it’s in no ways a Friday (considered by many as the only day worth living).

An ex-colleague of mine in the newsroom used to hate Tuesdays. Nothing happens on a Tuesday. All the weekends’ sports results are out. Any major developments normally happen later in the week and any celeb news worth noting from the weekend has already been filtered through the web. It’s a nothing day. Regularly my ex-colleague would be heard crying out for a bomb to go off in some politically unstable country just to create some news worthy content…

So here we sit – Thursday (the Tuesday of Thursdays to be honest) with nothing much to write…although we have a few paragraphs down now so I will stop while the going is good.

Another question…

2008-10-08T23:53:00.004+13:00

Not mine...but similar

Where did the saying “sleeps like a baby” originate?

I have one. It doesn’t.

Next time someone says he sleeps like a baby, my retort will be a quick, “what…you sleep for 5 minutes then cry?”

I love him still though.

I have a question…

2008-10-08T23:49:00.003+13:00

I'm with ugly...

Where did we get the saying “he is no oil painting”?

It is supposed to infer that the subject is not good-looking…perhaps on the weaker side of average. I went and looked at oil paintings on Google Images just now. I couldn’t find any good-looking people in any of them…even Botticelli’s women are a little frumpy looking...very womanly but certainly "no oil paintings".

I think we should retire the saying – maybe find a more modern example. “She is no Fashion TV”…perhaps.

Thoughts welcome.

If you go down to the gym today...

2008-10-08T23:45:00.003+13:00

Summer looms...

I have started the ubiquitous summer diet and fitness regime. I do it consciously or un-so every year, and every year ask myself the same question – when did I let myself go so much, that I now only have a few months (in Cape Town at any rate) until summer is here?

I don’t remember the point each year where I say to myself – it’s okay to have that beer…go on, have desert, you deserve it. But it must have happened. It always does.

It seems I am not the only one. Hundreds of keen dieters and fitness bunnies are coming out of their winter burrows and heading for the treadmills, slimming drinks and power plates in search of perpetual summer beauty, if only for a month or so.

All this effort for a few days on the beach looking good. Perhaps next year I shall be stricter and say no. But I doubt it.

See you at the gym – this year and next.

Will a new party make a difference?

2008-10-08T23:36:00.007+13:00

The splits...

I am struggling with news that a possible new party will be formed from a breakaway faction of the ANC.
The reason I struggle with this, is because the “breakaway group” is made up of those who didn’t get their way at Polokwane. They are also mostly politicians that have had 14 good years to prove themselves and didn’t.

So what do we ultimately end up with? A group of politicians who fought their way into the government by dubious politicking, up against a group of politicians who were ousted; who didn’t want to leave but did nothing while they were their anyway and are now forming a new party to get back in.

I can’t wait!

Nothing one can say here has not been said before. The government that is elected by the populous, is also the government that rules my life and yours. Even if you didn’t vote for them, they are still by default “your government” – as part of a country that feels the government may have put themselves before the general public, I get the feeling that we are on a ride right now where we can’t get off and we have no say or control of what is going on up in the engine room. Even if you are the most staunchest of ANC members, right now your say, according to the Government, means very little.

I read a great quote the other day and sadly don’t remember it verbatim, but it went something along the lines of “when the few at the front of the crowd are complaining loudly, it is very difficult to hear the whispers of the masses behind them”. (if you can point me in the right direction as to where I heard this please shout!)

Government is elected by the people – it’s there for the people – not the few that occupy it.

America should do the math.

2008-10-08T08:28:00.002+13:00

Truly, who are the yanks really voting for here?

Given that John McCain is in his 70’s with little hope of seeing through a first term as president, let alone a chance at shooting for second, Republican America is basically hoping like hell that Sarah Palin is going to be the woman who bails the US of A out of several quagmires they currently find themselves drowning in, over the next decade.

Its honest politics - to really get your teeth stuck into America, you have to see yourself through two terms. The first term is spent getting to grips with having to tell people that, actually the tax breaks you promised in your election campaign were complete bullshit, and the second term is spent reaping the rewards of those broken promises and paying back the people who put you in power in the first place – and don’t for a minute think I am suggesting the electorate here.

McCain has the chips stacked against him in even making the first four years, as brilliantly pointed out here by my former colleague Nic Marias (Marais) - http://nicmarais.com/?p=165#comment-162.

McCain’s inevitable senile dementia and / or death in the next 8 years, means that Palin moves on up from the pretty dreary no-mans land of VP (where lets face it she can’t do too much harm) right into the Monica Lewinsky’s old haunt in the Oval Office. This gun toting, bikini clad imbecile who currently runs America’s biggest ice-lolly (that’s Alaska. Ice and oil cash…lolly) will end up ruling the world, in one way or another.

The States has already proven itself as an equal opportunities employer; how else could Bush get the job had it not been? But to head down the road of possible Republican rule (ruin) for yet another 8 years breaks my heart.

From sub prime to sub-primal, it is time that those who voted for Bush (twice?) and are now thinking that the chick in the bikini with the hunting rifle can do a better job, to breath oxygen and think straight.

Travel

2008-07-23T20:49:00.003+12:00

I love travel - it has to be one of my favourite things to do.

Below is a recent article on Gotrave24.com.

www.gotravel24.com/theme/feature-focus/richard-hardiman-unpacks

BTW talking of trvel - Cape Town is in a stunning summer mood today. It's on days like these we need to remind ourselves that this is why we love living here. Despite the niggles of political life, nothing beats a beautiful day in Cape Town.

Have a great day - I intend to!
R

Viv Pitt.

2008-07-23T07:40:00.001+12:00

Am I the only one to stop and think…”Vivienne? What sort of a name is Vivienne?”

I am of course referring to Brad and Angie’s latest bout of baby making / adopting and their newborn twins Knox and Vivienne.

Something about the name just gives me no hope for the child; which is surprising given the alternatives it may have faced. Pax, Maddox and Shiloh shall never be normal names by any stretch of the imagination, but by celebrity standards they are the names, we as a Heat and People reading public, have come to expect.

In the heady world of Hollywood’s, “who-can-name-your-child-the-daftest-competition”, Vivienne comes in at a very low and pedestrian “Normal”. In fact it’s a name that we may have considered in the age of the baby-boomers to be okay, but have now tossed out, due to the fact that not only can you not name a baby “Vivienne”, but also that the name is so boring its beige; it’s on the wrong end of normal.

The Vivienne’s of the world will no doubt now all standup and tell me what a fine name it is, what it means and quote all the other famous Vivienne’s that made the world a safer place. No doubt too their husbands, probably named Boris, Heathcliffe or Rupert will also add to their war cry, but I am sorry; nothing doing. And don’t try and tell me that Richard is a beige name either. It’s a cheap argument and one that doesn’t wash – if you were planning to go that route you may be missing my point. I wasn’t, after all, born into the exotic world of Brangelina.

And it’s not that it just doesn’t work for a baby in the modern age. In a world where her contemporaries are named Tyger-lily, Apple and Harlow, Vivienne weighs in as decidedly non-celeb. Her brothers and sisters all have names with fascinating meanings or end with an X. Both ooze serious amounts of cool; now and later, when they are in high school. Baby Viv, I am sad to say, will never be able to live up to the same level of edginess.

She will be known as Viv Pitt. Her siblings however will be known in a way that we have come to know certain celebrities with only one name. Madonna, Cher and Seal to name a few. When, in the future, we talk of Pax, Maddox or Knox, no additional names will be necessary.

Ask yourself. In 10 years time if you tell someone you saw Vivienne shopping on Rodeo Drive, what will be their first reaction be?

“Oh wow, that’s so cool” or “Vivienne who?”

Just tell them Knox’s sister. The recognition will be instantaneous. And here I rest my case. Calling her Vivienne sets her apart and for the wrong reasons. It’s too normal for a celebrity child and to boring for a commoner. It lacks the identity she will need to survive in the world she has been born into.

The Change of life...

2008-07-23T07:39:00.001+12:00

I try and avoid sounding and acting like a new father.

Nothing used to annoy me more than the newly-parented forcing pictures of their offspring on me, along with tales of lack of sleep and baby vomit.

I realize now however, and with more than just a modicum of respect, just how hard this can be. I now find myself whipping out my cell phone and showing random people pictures of my son, telling them how much nappies cost and the pitfalls of various brands.

It’s very hard to be normal when 4 plus KG’s of your own doing arrives into your life. You do become a gibbering idiot from lack of sleep, you do tend to make the conversation around children and you certainly find yourself spending more time around people who have kids so that you can talk about them, guilt free.

Prior to becoming a parent I had no clue what it was like to be dealing with babies. A case in point was just after friends of ours had given birth. The wife and I decided to go and visit them post-hospital and pay homage to latest edition in the way those without children can only do; arriving as we used too, without calling and without notice. You know the way. Just pop in. I remember feeling quite affronted when we were told quite politely that this wasn’t a good time and perhaps we should call ahead next time.

What happened to our friends? Who were these haggard people who had taken over their bodies and were now letting us know in no uncertain terms we were persona non grata at this particular time.

As hindsight is 20-20 I can only feel for them. Knowing what I do now, to have visitors arrive unannounced in the middle of a newborn screaming fit, or 5 minutes after you have just put them down is mentally devastating. The outside world ceases to exist when you have a newborn and its intrusion into your newfound sleepless reality is a harsh and severe invasion.

It’s not just your friends that tend disappear for while too. Your ability to think rationally goes too, it’s given that your brain will become mush. One of the strangest parts of the whole process is finding yourself having conversations you never thought possible. Conversations that begin, ”Won’t you just lookup yellow pooh on the net…” or “…is that pee on the mat or did he throw up?”

Conversation that in any other stage of your life would seem so far fetched but now presents itself as very normal.

You are told, by those who have trod the path before you that it does get better. They give it you in varying degrees and stages, as if to soften the blow.

First you hear it’s only the initial 4 weeks that are the hardest. Then it’s the first 3 months. After that it’s only when the have finished teething that life begins. There seems to be no end to the “your-almost-there” encouragement, and no end insight to the time when you actually arrive.

In truth, deep down you know you never will arrive. It’s not a journey that is intended to have a destination.

No doubt the talk of various color pooh’s, the pro’s and con’s of 4-wheel prams over 3-wheelers and just which pediatrician should be charging you the earth, will blend into the next stage of schools, universities and tales of teenage dysfunction.

Life as we know it has ceased to exist but a new one has taken it’s place. Not a bad one either – just one that requires a little adjusting.

These are the days of her life...

2008-02-07T21:40:00.000+13:00

I have been watching the Britney thing go down recently. It’s funny how we all have an opinion on this girl, yet none of us know her. I cany help feeling sorry for her though – these idiots she has trailing her truly will be the death of her.

The woman cannot even drive around a normal suburb without been followed by a paparazzi pack of hounds. Flashing bulbs and intrusive video lenses through her car window…these money hungry fools pretending to be her friend and asking her how she is doing, all the while waiting for her to go ballistic so they can sell the pictures.

I can only equate our fascination to watching Formula One – while who wins is important, the crashes and possibility of death always makes the watching that more exiting. As the public we are partly to blame…we are after all voyeurs here and we all secretly, or not so secretly, enjoy seeing the suffering of others – especially when they were once high flying idols. Possibly it makes us feel better – we always knew they were no better than us after all.

Sadly though the more I watch the Britney saga unfold the more I feel sorry for this woman. There is no one there that she can trust – possible through a drug induced haze she is being led by people with ulterior motives; people on board for the ride on the gravy train that is Britney Express.

Will I stop speaking about her on air? Making jokes at her expense? I don’t know.

While she is in the public eye and I do feel sorry for her, something inside me feels she does know better than this – as drug induced as her life seems to be there has to be some semblance of trying to control things from her side – she still knows right from wrong but chooses not to act on it.

She is a grown woman with relatively few hardships in her life other than the ones she has brought unto herself. She is successful, talented and has two adorable kids…who screwed it up? Some guy taking snaps or the chick with the kids, the cash and the coke habit?

O R Thambo...

2007-12-15T00:08:00.001+13:00

Its not that I believe you have to be stupid to work in an airport but I am becoming quite convinced that in order to work at O R Thambo you do need to be on the wrong side of 70 when it comes to an IQ.

In Cape Town I find getting on and off an airplane, checking in, collecting baggage etc. to be on par with the rest of western civilization (possibly the East too but I have not traveled there and would hate to surmise). But get yourself flown up to the “Big Smoke” and wheels fall off! (Possibly literally if you flying Nationwide).

My last visit to ORT (sounds like the name belongs in a Tolkien book hey? Shit watch out the ORT’s are coming – someone pass me a dwarf), I waited for my bags only slightly shorter than the time it took to fly them there.

I mentioned to the man in an official looking Day-Glo green vest and walkie-talkie - that it had been sometime since we landed and we still hadn’t seen our bags. He told me that he was sure that they were on the way. I told him politely that I didn’t dispute that – it was really a matter of “when” that I was worried about. To that, he literally rolled his eyes and said he would find out (sorry mate I know its your job and everything…) then disappeared through the conveyer belt hole in the wall – you know the one – where you really wonder what’s happening behind there; hoola girls and poker etc.

Suffice to say I can only imagine that he was swallowed up by the same gargantuan ORT that had eaten my baggage, as I never saw him again.

30 minutes later and after an entire planeload of Japanese tourists had managed to claim their luggage from the same belt (a lot of Nikon camera bags and Hello Kitty paraphernalia – what is with the Asians and Kitty?), our baggage started to come through – not all at a once mind you, drips and drabs.

An hour later and sweet ‘eff all apologies from anyone in Day-Glo green, I managed to get outside.

It would be fine if it were just a once off, but its not. Every time I go there, there is a system crash, gate changes at the last minute, unexplained delays and queues longer than Zimbabwe banking line. Again all this maybe part of an international airport but why the hell can’t anyone tell you what’s going on? When you ask someone vaguely official-looking the stare that you get back is blanker than a Jacob Zuma confession sheet.

I remember landing on a trip home from Washington last year. Several of the people who were seated around me were first timers in SA. We landed on time but then sat 3 feet from the terminal for the next 40 minutes, while an ORT tried to conjure up a set of stairs so we could alight.

To repeat: An international flight arrives (on time) and we sit for 40 minutes on the tarmac while someone tries to find some stairs? It’s embarrassing.

A number of saffers around me started to laugh and say “welcome to Africa”…and “only in SA…” Well crap! We have a world-class terminal at ORT…there are no excuses. Africa or not, if we want to be taken seriously; step one buy some ‘effing stairs!

Jo’burgers will no doubt tell me that Cape Town International is just the same only slower, smaller etc, but to be honest I have never had a problem there. This is not just me defending home territory, just me being honest. Taking it a step further and having traveled fairly extensively, I don’t think I have ever encountered as many problems anywhere in the world as I have at ORT-ville. Even landing in Imhambane “International” in Mozambique was a comparative breeze to get through…trust me its bad…

The World Cup is coming and I know we are up to the job but someone at ORT central needs to take responsibility for appalling service and people who obviously have no clue what’s going on or how to solve a problem.

Blank stares don’t solve problems – they only confirm lack of ability.

Massages, Spas and Pygmies...

2007-12-15T00:07:00.000+13:00

My wife and I went for massages today – Monique is a self-confessed spa-freak and I just enjoy the white slippers.

It reminded me of when we were on honeymoon earlier this year in Mozambique. After a few days of snorkeling, whale watching and listening to the insanely ugly and overweight newly weds next door bonk them selves into oblivion we decided to book ourselves into the lodge’s spa.

Perhaps it should have been a warning that the spas signage was printed in black and white on A4 scap, crudely laminated and stuck to the lodge wall with an excessive amount of press stick– not what you would normally expect from a prestige resort…

Be that as it may, we were undeterred by the lack of glossy brochures and pictures of anorexic women with stones strategically placed about their persons; Monique was ready to be drenched in essential oils and I was just as excited about the possibility of the slippers.

They were unable to accommodate us at the same time, so I opted to go first while M stayed back at the room listening to the freshly married whales next door give it another go.

It turned out she got the better end of the deal.

I spent a good while asking the staff at the front desk where the spa actually was – there were no signs pointing to where it was (ran out of A4 and press stick?). at reception I was greeted with large smiles and pointing. It was round the back next to the conference room – turns out the spa doubled up as a storage room so it was fairly easy to miss if you didn’t pay close attention.

Nestled amongst as yet unused roles of pink ceiling insulation and randomly piled sets of conference room chairs was a “room” cleverly constructed from old office dividers. With tee light candles and an odd smell emanating from a scented oil burner the “spa” resembled more of a backstreet dentist than a relaxing area created with peace and tranquility in mind.

Not wanting to ruin the experience for myself, I went with it and entered the cubicle – inside was perhaps the world’s shortest masseuse known to man. Obviously she had honed her craft rubbing the feet and backs of Frodo and other various hobbit inhabitants of the shire.

It also turned out that she was the same women who had been cleaning my toilet earlier that morning.

Apparently she was only a trainee masseuse and filled the rest of her day in her regular role as part of the housekeeping unit.

It wasn’t getting any better and I could fast see my slippers becoming a non-entity in this equation. I had opted for the “Swiss Alpine” massage but had a feeling that the pygmy porcelain scrubber hadn’t ventured very far past a Toblerone let alone Lake Geneva.

As she didn’t speak English, she instead gestured to me to disrobe – I waited for her to the leave but she just stood her ground. Eventually after trying to stare her down, I gave up and stripped down to my underpants. She gestured again that I should remove these too and then climb onto the bed. Thinking that anything to a person 3 foot high must look quite large, I removed the last part of clothing and got onto the table.

It was at this point that it occurred to me that I might as well give up any pretence and buy into the fact I was now naked on a table, in a storeroom about to be manhandled by the lodge’s chief toilet cleaner.

Not quite being able to reach to the height of the table, Shire-girl put her hands above her head and proceeded to attempt to perform her version of a deep tissue massage. I can only liken it to a mosquito treading lightly across my skin so as not to wake me – Helen Keller had a better chance of working out what this girl was attempting to do than I did. As she lavishly poured a combination of what looked like Nivea hand cream and some not-so-essential oil across me exposed body I was tempted pack it in as a bad job.

Only pure embarrassment of making this girl feel bad (and even smaller than she was) made me stay put.

For an hour and half she continued to work blindly on my limbs, saturating me in slim and gingerly picking at my skin in the apparent hope that I would somehow believe that this was the way it was done in the Alps.

For a finale she stepped it up a number of notches with the old “chop sticks” routine – pummeling her fists into my exposed back with a force that to be honest scared the shit out of me. Toilet girl had suddenly become Chuck Norris’ right hand man and I was now being winded and “Hymliched” with each alternative beating of the fist.

Then it just went silent. After managing to catch my breath back, I realized she had left the room. No goodbye, no nothing. I toweled the gunk off and got dressed and left. Hands down the oddest “Spa” experience of my life.

As I left I saw M on her way in for her session – naturally I didn’t say a thing. Why spoil the surprise!

Rubber-necking the rich and reckless...

2007-08-02T19:38:00.001+12:00

I have no problem with celebrity – not mine, that’s just non-existent. Rather the stellar type that is enjoyed by people with names like, Britney, Paris, Lindsay and Nicole and many others in the same vein.

I say I have no problem with it, as we live in a society that is increasingly reliant on reality-voyeurism as a form of on-tap entertainment – its just how we are built, we want escapism in our lives and right now this is it.

Our folks had Paul, John and Ringo (and George) to obsess about – we just have new incarnations of that same celebrity obsessive ness.

Every day we give more and more credence to the cliché, “everybody’s lives are more interesting than mine”.

The thing we miss about that cliché is this. We get to see every bit of our lives – from the moment we wake and make our first cup of coffee to point where we climb into bed at night, we have to live with our lives. When we visit the lives of Brit-Brit and Posh via HEAT, E! or the Backpage, we see just a glimpse, a paparazzi snapshot of these peoples lives – it’s a brief exiting capsule in what other maybe a very boring day in these peoples existence.

Then why are we so interested? I believe it’s the same reason we watch F1 on a Sunday afternoon. We are waiting for the crash. Nobody waits for the 5th of November for the sparklers – we want rockets. Literally we are waiting for the people, who we perceive to be putting themselves on a pedestal, to fall off it. And when they do, its normally in spectacular style.

These people we follow via every media known to man, are currently more famous for their love life, AA meetings and jail sentences, than they are for why we know who they are in the first place.

There are several obvious examples out there.

Firstly the Beckham’s move to the US. If we distil this to its absolute value, what we are talking about here is a family that is moving to a new country. Exiting as it maybe to them, it happens everyday throughout the world to plenty of people right? Of course – but here we have a carefully stage managed move via PR people, media guru’s and agents, engrossing us in someone else’s life and we are lapping it up.

But are we lapping here? Look at it carefully – a footballer who was quite literally at the end of his playing time (sad but true, in Europe Dave was pretty much at the end of his days) and a once-famous pop star of a super-girl group, who failed (several times) at striking out in her own career – because she is just not that talented – no disrespect but she isn’t and she knows it. Ultimately their careers are in decline.
What she does know is how to stay in the spotlight. She is making us watch two good-looking has-beens arrive in a new country and engross us in their lives. She hasn’t released anything in ages and he hasn’t really kicked a ball for a while – not even since arriving in the States – but we are still watching.

Britney is the same in man respects. Her career is in decline and has been for 4 years now – the last album didn’t quite make the grade and straight up I cannot remember when I last played any of her tunes on my show…if I was still playing clubs, there isn’t a chance in hell I would play a Britney tune.

So what is she famous for? Crashing out. Several times over in the last three years and we were there with her, screaming, “we told you so” all the way.

First she got married to human-scrap – the world knew it but she rebelled and went ahead with it. Then the kids, the new trailer trash image and finally the divorce and resulting pantyless, partying and vomiting that went with it.

We loved her when she was on top, but now we cant remember what that was like, so instead we are loving the fact she has fallen…we relish it…she’s not better than us now – she may have cash and nice cars but she is unhappy…her life is far worse than ours and that makes us feel better and we are entertained.

Paris ended up in jail – we cheered! The anorexic, ex-heroine addict, now pregnant Nicole Ritchie is also heading for the chookie – 4-days behind bars for DUI…soon to be an unmarried mother…now there’s a role model for you.

Lindsay Lohan? She has made a total of 3 or 4 movies, one when she was 13 – one about a VW beetle and the other where she played a mean bitch in high school (much acting?). My point is we are not watching Judy Dench in decline here. We are watching a barely-adult women, with several dangerous addictions and an apparent inability to say no or drive, parade in front of us daily on our TV’s – and that ultimately is what she is famous for. Being screwed up.

It may sound like I am bitter. I’m not. This is how we entertain ourselves right now and this too will pass. It always does and something else will come along, glittery and shiny to grab our attention in new direction.

Elvis and the Beatles were exchanged for various versions of New Kids On The Block, and Backstreet boys. The latter were lost to Eminem and 50 cent.

My worry right now is that what we are engrossed in, is celebrity versions of car crashes. We are rubber-necking the lives of rich-nonentities to make life better.

After all, what is entertainment? It’s something that takes our mind away from our lives for a while, suspends reality (the irony) and a makes us feel better as humans.

Inner city living...

2007-07-26T21:31:00.000+12:00

The more office blocks and old warehouse’s that fall foul of the new building fad of “loft conversions” here in the city the more I wonder where we are heading too in Cape Town.

As each new “exclusive” block goes up, and another throng of single, "upwardly mobiles" arrive in their BMW 1 series and Golf V’s from the ‘burbs to pitch camp; there seems to be a concurrent new side-walk café that springs up in the midst of the new retro space. Almost as though Vide E and the local building authority have made some not-so secret agreement?

Don’t get me wrong – I have long been an advocate of city living.

For the past two years I have made Adderly Street and St.Georges Mall my home and can say without hesitation that this is the place to be. Coffee shops (as pointed out above) exist on every corner. Restaurants are springing up left, right and centre to cater to the needs of the new city kids and more and more security guards are being deployed every week – in fact if you do get mugged by someone in the city centre nowadays, based on just pure numbers, its likely to be by someone in a "dayglo bib" and uniform.

You know that things are hotting up in town as slowly, but surely, Woolworth’s edge closer and closer to the epicenter. Attracted no doubt by the unmistakable lure of people who work too hard, make too much money and are quite happy to pay 40 bucks and up, for a well packaged and over priced piece of chicken and noodles; so long as it does not take longer than 7 minutes on “high” to steam itself cooked.

Someone told me recently that the Woolworths in Gardens; that one cleverly disguised as a petrol station; is one of the highest grossing stores per square meter in the Cape, if not the country. Without verifying the fact I can only say that if its true, I am not surprised in the least. I have plundered the shelves there several times, post-gym at Wembly - it’s a City thing and fast becoming a way of life. And an expensive way of life at that.

And herein lies my point. City living is by no means cheap. But its convenience outweighs any argument I have heard for moving to the suburbs. I am 5 minutes away ( traffic included), from my door to the office. Parking is never a struggle as it is catered for at both ends. Underground, safe and secure.

But convenience and safety come at a price. A price per square meter. And not very many squares at that. I live in perhaps the most expensive hamster cage I could have ever imagined. And with advent of online shopping – yes we now have it delivered to our door, I feel more and more like a kept “pet” than ever before.

My sister-in-law and her husband have recently purchased a new home in Durbanville. I have no idea what they paid for it, but I am pretty sure they weren’t in anyway robbed. It sounds fantastic – large open garden with plenty of space for future nieces and nephews to play. Large house with plenty of rooms to escape to when one craves a bit of peace and quiet…my version of “escape” is to nip to the toilet and admire the travertine tiling for a while…its nice to get away every now and then.

My sister and her boyfriend have a house in Melkbos – the sea is a breath away and on late summer evenings the smell of braai smoke drifts across the area like Honeysuckle. Again what they paid for it is considered a steal by town prices.

All this sounds fabulous. Nobody can argue with space and open air. But the one thing that would kill me is driving the five hours every day to work and back. You can argue as much as you like with me about the prettiness of suburbia, but at the end of the days it’s just that. A suburb of the place where you work, which ultimately means you have to drive to get to the office. You are waking up at 4am, leaving the house by 5 and arriving at the office a little after 9.

And don’t tell me that, that is okay with you.

Don’t tell me that you don’t mind the drive as it gives you time to get your head straight before work. That you would sacrifice a few hours each way on the traffic to go home to all that space.

Crap.

You don’t get to see the space as it is generally dark when you eventually arrive home and lets face it, you are too damned tired after screaming at taxis, to get off the couch and “take in the evening air” in that expansive garden.

Yes I may not have a garden, I don’t even have a ledge to sit on but right now to be honest I don’t need one. Yes I don’t have the sea on my doorstep; instead it’s 5 minutes away in Camps Bay. I don’t have space for the kids to run free I hear you say? It’s ok! I don’t have any yet and when I do, did I mention Camps bay is 5 minutes away?

Obviously as I get older and the family expands this argument wont hold up. But for now I will enjoy the sounds of the city from my bedroom window. The sunsets over the buildings and the ability to leave my front door and be on one of the main shopping thoroughfares in Cape Town.

If we are out of toothpaste and deodorant, Clicks is below. If we cant wait for Pick n’ pay to deliver, then Woolworths is on the next block. If we are in the mood to watch a new DVD, have to get someone a present or the wife needs new shoes Muisca, Truworths and Ninewest are all there to provide help. Literally on our doorstep. No dashing off to the mall, finding parking, paying for parking etc. etc. we live amongst it already.

And the best thing about living in the city?

At 5pm everybody in Town climbs into their cars, points them in the direction of the suburbs and we can have our hamster cage back to ourselves…

Cars maketh the family?

2007-07-23T23:47:00.000+12:00

I have the automotive version of ADD.

I am one of those people who simply hate having the same car longer than a year. I get very bored very quickly.

In the past 3 years I have gone from a Mini to an Astra. A Jeep Wrangler to Audi A4. Each one had its own personality – barring the Astra, which had non. In fact the Astra is the Al Gore of cars...it makes a great back up but don’t expect to lead the pack.

The Mini was sporty and fun – it looked like it was a blast to drive and it was. It lived up to its reputation as a car that would put a smile on your face. Dressed it up in sexy alloys and a few go-faster stripes, the Mini looked a cut above the rest, turned heads and as a friend of mine succinctly put it, “ cornered like it was on rails”.

The Mini’s problem was that it was a 2-door.It wasn’t exactly J Lo when it came to boot space and when you’re 6 foot 3, getting in and out looked a bit daft…and if I am completely honest a bit gay. There is no way to “alight” from a mini and look manly…trust me I have tried every combination.

On practical level, it was safe to say the Mini had to go.

It was replaced by a more respectable and more manly Astra. While the Opel lacked the class and culture of the Mini, it did make up for its lack of personality with four-doors, boot space that, by comparison, rivaled the Kimberly hole and a multi-functional steering wheel. Granted the Mini had the multifunctional wheel, but it was like pressing buttons on one of those very small Casio keyboards…without the “Bossanova” drum beat option.

The Astra’s steering wheel was thick to the grip and had the sturdy feel of a ships tiller. Sadly it drove the same.

“Thick” and “ship” were words that related well to the Astra. While I didn’t expect much performance from the 1600 engine, I did expect some stickiness when throwing the car into a corner. Driving the Capes’ coastal roads saw the same “negotiation” skills as delivered in a Cosatu strike. I literally had to plead and beg the car around the bends. Grovel to eject it from a corner at pace. And then Genuflect and pray to gain speed again, as I lollopped into the next curve.

True the car had boot space and fuel economy that would make a rickshaw blush, but that was as far as it went. It was a blunt instrument with room for a golf bag, a wife and three kids. Nothing more.

Besides that I missed my car been an extension of my personality…and before you say it, no, the Mini didn’t say “small and tight”.
I needed something that spoke to the world. Something that didn’t say “I work in IT and own a spaniel”; that didn’t give off overwhelming wiff’s of “it’s my mums car but she said I could borrow it if I was careful”.

This is where the Jeep comes in. It’s the Sly Stallone of cars. Impractical, devastating on the Earths eco-system and simply hideous to drive but everyone at some stage of their lives wants to own one.

A four-liter brute, with an American made automatic box and a ride height that made you feel as though you were hunting invading Pygmy tribes.

The front literally lurches when you floor the engine from a standing start. The engine block made the entire chassis sway from violently from side to side simply by turning the ignition. It was great. Totally impractical. But great.

When it rained you could play in puddles with the equivalent glee of a 3 year old in Wellington boots. When the sun was out, simply hoist the top off (with the help of 2 or 8 of your closest mates) and cruise Camps bay main road with a Cheshire cat grin.

Yes it had its small, niggly points. Like the lack of storage space…anywhere. The boot was slightly larger than a Coleman’s cooler box. There was “bucket” storage in between the front seats – it was deep and very useful…if you could get anything past the insanely small opening at the top – it was like inverted funnel.

The petrol consumption was ugly too. One road trip to Arniston would single handedly fund OPEC for a month. The back passenger seat was more like a church pew with cushioning and it handled like a whale on roller-skates.

Like Anna Nicole Smith, the Wrangler was sexy and fun, but at the end of the day nobody wants to be in a long relationship with it. There was just too much baggage to enjoying it. Too many trips to the gas station. At the very best it made a great weekend vehicle…it just doesn’t do “trips” to the mall obligingly.

The Audi is a perfect blend of big V6 motoring with the creature comforts. It’s like driving a very fast leather couch. Like an expensive Swiss chocolate, it’s classy, luxurious and smooth. It eats up the road with a refined blend of speed and brute confidence. It’s understated. It’s the Superman of cars. By day it’s a mild manner sedan, with boot space, family legroom and a cup-holders but beneath its veneer exterior its 3.0 liter engine does 0 to 100 in just over 6.7 seconds…that’s a lot of Vorsprung shifted very quickly for a family car.

So what you may ask is my problem? I seem to have found a perfect blend of luxury and performance. The surf-and-turf of rides. Smart enough to rock up at a black tie event and yet edgy enough to throw the surfboards on the roof and not think twice

My problem is this. I need a change. I am craving the unorthodox once more. I need something that is impractical – overbearing and downright over rated.

My eyes have strayed across the new 4-door Wrangler, Alfas’s beast of a GT or perhaps, to keep it in the family the new TT.

All are great vehicles – all equally impractical and needlessly more than they need to be as transport. All great choices in my mind. Except things have changed. I am married now and although that, in its self, would not stop either of us from buying any of the above, the thought using any one of them as a “family car” is insane.

Both the GT and the TT are 2-doors and don’t have very big back seats for baby’s and boots for prams. The Wrangler wouldn’t work. The kids would need a climbing harness just to get in and out.

I am stuck between a rock and hard place. If and when we start having kids, do we just use the wife’s more practical 4-door for transporting tots and use my “mid-life crisis” car for weekend getaway’s and tootling to the office.

Do I trade mine in for a Volvo estate? An Audi Avant or a perhaps a Toyota Camry just to fit in with the Constantia-set at the school gates?

I realize that we are not pregnant yet. I realize I am planning my next automotive move, around an unborn, yet-to-be conceived egg; however I am desperately worried that once the nappies are out of the bag and the breast-pumps are doing whatever they do, that I will be too focused on being safety conscious and Swedish in my approach to buying a new car.

I need to act now before my biggest want and desire from a car is enough room for a pram and more airbags than a jumpy castle.

I need big tires, oversized engines and no rear legroom! It’s imperative.

.

How marriage snuck on me like Rambo...and I like it!

2007-07-20T21:55:00.000+12:00

The next big thing…

There are certain stages in life that you know are coming. You know for example that one day you will “get old” and that cash you have been saving each month for your retirement will eventually be seen again (you may also already know what your broker already does. That it probably won’t be enough…but by that time what will he care).

You know too, that one day you will hopefully have kids, the house with the proverbial picket fence (accentuated with various forms of “Mr.Spike”, broken glass bottles in cement and barbed wire). You know that one day you will have to get rid of the sporty 2-door and have to buy a family-mobile…that one day you will be buying school uniforms and telling your kids that if they leave there lunch box at school again they will be hell to pay! Lunch boxes after all don’t grow on trees…along with money, school ties and Pamela Anderson.

So if we know all these things why the hell are we so suprised when it happens to us?

Case in point. I never thought I would get married until I was at least 36 (no idea why that age its just a goal I had set).

I had more wild oats to sow than Brad Pitt in his pre-Jenny / Angie days and Pro-Nutro combined. There was no need to clutter the shag pad, full of manly guitars, men-toys and “casting couch” with such additions as permanent girlfriends or god-forbid a wife!

My mind and life wasn’t built that way.

Until of course I met my wife.

Like a week-kneed teenager on his first date to movies with a face full of acne and saved-up pocket money; I went head over heels for this women and in a flash my life had changed.

It was as unexpected as a Telkom rate cut. She blew me away in 5 seconds – I didn’t stand a chance. I tried to fight it. I tried increasing my partying ways from 4 to 7 days a week…I bought more manly-toys and stopped shaving. All in the hope that if I amped up my bachelor lifestyle, the inconvenient truth that I had fallen in LOVE would quickly disappear faster than the “Tom Cruise is gay” rumors.

Alas, just as the Tommy boy-on-boy action stories persisted, so did my romantic notions of “taking myself a bride”.

I say alas, but obviously it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. It took an outsider like her to tell me that it does not matter how many electric guitars you have in your pad – if you cant play them, they are not cool. You may have a brass telescope in your trendy town loft because its very “New York”, but it still looks like you are checking out your neighbors when they’re showering (to be honest she had me on this one…I was 18 stories up…who wouldn’t give it a go…)

Fastforwarding somewhat; a bit of wrangling here, a ring or too and some invites sent out to relations who would mind a free meal and we were married. Domestic bliss had arrived and without knowing it was happening I was suddenly a husband.

Obviously there was plenty of time to think about all of this, but you don’t do you? You follow the process as it has been laid out for thousands of years and you take the proper steps to ensure that you do what millions have done before you in order to be hitched.

I look at my wife now and it does not register that we are now man and vrou. I still find her hot! Damn hot! We still have sex and damn it if it does not just get better?

What happened to all the stories that once you tie the knot you may as well buy a bunk bed? Where are all the “okes” who told me very specifically and in no uncertain terms that my life would end as I know it? I’ll tell you where – in the same bars that I left them. Still single, still telling the next line of “manne” the do’s and don’ts of how to “score” chicks and how every time they have been with a women its ended badly…in hindsight not suprisingly. How many women want to hang off the end of a bar with their “man” while he chalks up another Black Label on the tab…for 7 consecutive days.

My point is that I enjoy being married. Do we irritate each other? Sure we do. Do we fight, moan and grumble? Of course! I am human and I always will. Only now I get to do that with my wife. A women who I find adorable, funny, cute and insanely sexy.

If ever there is a person who I wanted to make up with after a fight, it would be her hands down. Lets face it – you don’t beg the Taxman for a cuddle after he has taken your hard earned cash and shouted at him for doing it, right?

Marriage my have snuck up on me. It may have been mores stealthy than John Rambo on a jungle mission. More frightening than Chuck Norris in a tutu but man am I glad it got me.

I look forward to my adventures in marriage – obviously those that have been hurt will tell me not to be so gung-ho, it’s not an easy trip. However I welcome the challenge with open arms…and my electric guitar slung over my back (I still cant play it but I don’t need to now…I’m married…and that’s the cooler).

Greener pastures and greener grass…

2007-07-19T21:35:00.000+12:00

I quit. I left a damn god job. A job where I traveled to every known part of the earth, for free and generally in various states of luxury. I only ever waited for planes in the premier lounges. I was able to upgrade to business class whenever I felt like it. I knew the fastest way to get from JFK to Manhattan. I knew the best hotel at the best price that was close enough to Central Park and main shopping areas without breaking the bank.

I thought nothing of saying to friends can’t do lunch on Tuesday, I am in New York, the Bahamas…Ontario…take your pick really.

I lived in Las Vegas for three months researching business for the company –they paid for everything…I lived in Vegas for three month for free…had the time of my life…for free!

So who in their right mind gives up a job like that?

Was it the traveling you ask? Did your wife get tired of hearing your endless accounts of fluffing clients and late night excursions to strip club’s just to “keep the client happy”?

In a word. No.

My wife was quite content waving me off at Cape Town International – she valued her space as much as I did and to be honest she functions better when I am not there to get in the way of things.

The quitting began while I was in Mozambique. I was dipping my toes in the Indian Ocean whilst sipping a random cocktail (from a coconut shell…tourism…you gotta love it!), and literally thinking how great life was, when the phone ran. You have to give it to Vodacom –they really do have the East African coastline pretty sown up.

On the end of the line was my former boss.

Some background here. I had previously worked at a Radio station part time – weekends mainly…did fairly well but never pushed any boundary’s of quasi-celebrity. I had fun – got paid and in my youth mainly used it to get laid, to be quite honest with you. I had a standard Monday to Friday, 9 – 5 job in the week. But as business took over my life I had decided to give up the fun, well-paid hobby and get serious. Get a real job that would enable my wife and I to live well and focus a bit on a career.

My former boss had other ideas though – while I was pondering the light blue ocean, the white stretch of sand in front of me; my former boss propositioned me. In a manner of speaking.

Would like to come back and work in radio fulltime – Monday to Friday…a mere three hours a day and better pay than I was on now?

It was a tough call.

In the 0.2 seconds it took me to make up my mind I did spare thought to the loss of perks, travel, luxury and voyager miles…but these things would always be there I thought. I can always go back. Right now someone is offering you your mornings off. A work day that kicks off at 2 in the afternoon and enough cash not to have to worry about breaking that agreement you have with Standard Bank regarding living in their house till is paid off.

It truly was an offer I could not refuse.

My wife said I would get bored. I would miss the travel, the strategy the clients and the company credit card. I told her no way! I would start a new business on the side, I would consult in something or the other. Start gym! Write! We would have more time to spend together…every reasonable argument for working just three hours a day I could find really.

So we were agreed – she was dubious but accepting. I was just plainly in love with idea of living 5 minutes from the studio and staying in bed till 12.

Within an hour I had resigned my position, found a fax machine in the middle of the untouched and tranquil Mozambican bush and signed a 1-year contract to do the afternoon drive show. Life can change so quickly so they say…

The adage “be careful what you wish for” is a powerful thing to hold onto.

When I got home, I was indeed working just 3 hours a day – I was indeed earning enough for us to be comfortable. Indeed I tried staying in bed till 12…once; but isn’t it funny how when everyone else is at work and not available for breakfast at Caprice; cant make coffee at 11 at Vida, that you begin to feel a little bit like someone who has taken leave from work during the week but cant share it with anyone. Its like pulling a “sickie” and then finding out that no one else did so you have to entertain yourself.

I was reminded of Hugh Grant in “About a boy”…he divided his days into units of time…each unit being 30 minutes. A haircut is 2 units for instance, picking up the post 1 unit. I have now managed to make “taking the car to be washed” a 3 unit adventure, which includes having lunch, a spot of shopping and catching up on Facebook.

Now, I have to admit I hate famous people who grumble about their lot in life – not that I am famous, however I think I am pretty privileged to be doing what I am doing? Nothing grinds me more than the latest P Diddy tune banging on about how hard it is to be a multi-millionaire and be adored by the unwashed masses…being a “player” who is set upon by “player haters”. Nothing makes me want to increase my propensity to vomit, than having to try and understand the complexities of Victoria Beckham’s lavish lifestyle and just how much she has to suffer to be loaded and stick-thin…poor dear…there, there, you silly has-been.

My point though, is that while you sit in your office and wish that you could be sitting at some sidewalk café instead (as I am right now typing this), whiling away your time, catching up with friends, avoiding deadlines and the boss; just remember the grass is not always greener.

You are surrounded by friends and colleagues right now. You can get up and go make yourself a cup of tea, chat about “housewives” last night (it was good one wasn’t it?). Around you are people who understand what sort of a day your having, can sympathize with the workload and know what’s happening in your life.

You see all my mates are at work too. Right now it’s me and a waiter called Juan…although I suspect he made that up. My wife is at work too –so we are not spending anymore time together…I go to gym…but more to chat about last nights TV than anything.

Would I give it up? Hell no. Am I complaining? Definately not. But do I miss the days of going into work…that first cup of coffee, those first few minutes of chatting and delaying hitting the startup button on the PC? Hell yeah!

A friend once told me, there will always be someone who’s life you would want – as humans we are never satisfied with our place in life, no matter where we are…the “the grass is always greener”.

And its true, I am sitting here at 11am in the morning writing about my loss of the corporate life in exchange for one of freedom and creativity…having just received a text from my actor-model brother: “In Ibiza on a shoot…hope all is well x”.

No who wouldn’t want a job like that…

Online Headlines from today: 30th March 2007

2007-03-30T20:46:00.000+12:00

Taken from various news sites across SA.

Madonna’s new clothing range at H & M sold out in a day!

I had no idea the market for ill fitting; badly colored leotards had such a demand! I take it Oxfam turned down the chance to stock these 45 years and up beauties….

Zuma Probe Extended To The UK.

Sounds painful JZ…you might want a doctor to take a look at that…get it lanced or something mate...

Mbeki may get a 57% pay rise.

It’s an inflation rate, linked increase of course…not our inflation rate… Zimbabwe’s.

Cover-up in collapse of tunnel

To be honest by the time it had collapsed, it sounded like everything had been covered up…next willl be "Cops unearth tunnel truths..." Be sensitive for crying out loud!

Bob Woolmer’s murder linked to al-Qaeda
You have to ask what isn’t these days…I just feel sorry for the West Indies…Bush must be eyeing them out like a hawk right now…soon the troops will be a’ coming…

Traffic License offices shut for a week
Will we notice a difference?

Breast feeding Vs. HIV

Umm…I will take the breast feeding if that’s okay?

Austria adds a new tourist destination and its “Effing great” say the Brits!

2007-03-29T20:54:00.000+12:00

There are times when you can blame translation and use the phrase “oh really…we didn’t know!” but then there are those times when you just have to put your hands up and say “yeah okay we know but it gives us a quirky edge”.

Sadly for the residents of Fucking, Austria (ED: I don’t mean Fucking Austria! But rather the place…you know…Fucking…in Austria…), they are standing by their story that their domiciles name is of no interest to them and they just can’t understand what everybody else is getting so hot under the collar about.

So I give you the very non-funny (please don’t laugh we are almost German) Fucking In Austria…lovely place…lot’s of fun…

You have to admit though it does lend itself to some interesting conversations as a tourist…the following phrases can be used without batting an eyelid.

Can you direct me to the Fucking train station?

Is there a Fucking library here?

Can I buy a Fucking Postcard?

What is the fucking currency here?

Is there a large Fucking swinger’s community here?

What in the name of Fucking were you thinking?

It’s completely genuine too…there is a Fucking map!

The Fucking locals however are sticking to their story…they just don’t see the joke! Fucking Austrians….

“Partyman” for KFM afternoon drive

2007-03-27T21:06:00.000+12:00

Seems the rumours are true....! At least now I will have something to talk about again!

Ah but working three hours a day...will our man handle it???

Cheers
R

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Changes to 94.5 Kfm’s weekday lineup, announced this week, include presenter Richard Hardiman being appointed to the weekday afternoon drive show (3pm – 6pm) and the partnership of Irma G and Guy McDonald on the Kfm Sundown slot every weekday (6pm – 10pm).

In addition, well known DJ Sam Roy moves into the Party Zone on Friday and Saturday nights (10pm - 2am) while Jeffrey Stevens takes up the 2am - 6am slot weekdays.“The appointments are part of Kfm’s ongoing goal to provide our listeners with the best in music and entertainment.

The new line-up also allows us to refresh the sound of the station,” explains Colleen Louw, station manager for 94.5 Kfm.Hardiman, also known as “Hardiman the Partyman” from his presentation of Kfm’s Party Zone, has been part of the Kfm family for several years and brings a wealth of experience to the afternoon drive slot. “Richard has a natural flair for radio and understands our brand intimately.

He is mature, has traveled extensively and is a consummate professional,” says Louw.Hardiman has also notched up experience in movie script writing and stand-up comedy and adds to his list of accomplishments his appearance as Mr July in Cosmopolitan magazine’s annual Sexiest SA Man Calendar in 2006.Irma G’s career in broadcasting began at Kfm in 1996.

She is a sought-after club DJ, often appearing behind the decks at some of Cape Town’s most popular clubs. McDonald’s broadcast career spans several years, including a stint at the London School of Radio, Film and Television. Together, they comprise a high-energy and dynamic duo who have already injected their fun personalities into the Sundowner show.

Sam Roy has been a DJ since his early teens and is a perfect fit for the Party Zone, which showcases the best collection of party hits every Friday and Saturday night, according to the radio station.

Where are the real celebs?????

2006-07-25T18:59:00.000+12:00

She no longer looks like this...

I seem to be having remarkable bad luck with Celeb spotting in Vegas…I am not sure what’s wrong! So far I have spotted or been in the close vicinity of the following…Larry King (Nice but very small and wrinkly)…ICE T…(same as Larry but not so small), Montel Williams…(he is like the male version of Oprah here…think his talk show has been in SA several times…very nice dude...played Craps with him…rather he played, I chatted…) He only knew two things about SA really…(a) that his show was syndicated there and (b) the time he met Charlize on Oscar night!

So, so far a few quazi-celebs and Larry, right? You can imagine then, how pissed off I was that today I am in a lunch meeting with a magazine (like that “Lunch Meeting”…its very USA baby)…and who should be sitting at the table next me but Princess Lea! Her of Star Wars fame…yes indeed…Natalie Portman’s child was having a crab salad and ice tea (not the rapper, the drink) right next to me!

Okay she has aged a bit…well a lot actually…if she put her infamous slave bikini costume on now it might have turned a few stomachs at the restaurant. I am not sure why I found this so amazing….I guess my childhood wet dreams of me, my light saber and Lea came flooding back or something but I found it fascinating. Being the typical South African I pretended to unaffected and I didn’t ask for an autograph…but hell it made the meeting interesting!

So far we have done some great parties and some amazing clubs. Ghost is perhaps one of Las Vegas slickest places at the moment – located at the top of the Palms Hotel, its has an amazing view of the strip from the 60th floor or something like that and also sports a glass floor which looks right down onto the swimming pool below…believe me it took a few Jacks before I even ventured out onto it!

We hit Body English at the Hard Rock Casino on Saturday. Naturally I hate waiting in queues, but as we are well connected in Sin City we were escorted past the line (waiting time 2 hours!!) and through the velvet rope. Its party central in there, 3 floors, huge dance floor…its insane and typically Las Vegas!

Before that we hit Beachers Madhouse (http://www.beachersmadhouse.com/) which is at the Joynt in the hard Rock – the party is a literally a madhouse of strippers, dwarves and some guy that skips with women on his back…think I have seen it all now!

Okay its bed time for me…you guys are just waking up!

We waz robbed!...apparently...

2006-07-06T22:37:00.000+12:00

Must apologise for absence here - still in Uk on way to Vegas...

There is nothing quite like watching and English football match with the English. For years as a family of English parents and “soutie” children, we have been avid supporters of the Boks and England in whatever sports were playing – we were country proud and exceedingly lucky to be so of two nations…

As you may or may not know, I am currently making my way, literally, across the globe with the final stop on this trip been Las Vegas.

Having to stop briefly off in the UK to fix some passport glitches (read. He hasn’t replaced his UK passport after it was stolen and now its becoming a bit of a nightmare…) I found myself last night staying at my sisters house in Earlsfeild (that’s in London baby!) and spending the day with 5 Saffers who live here and 5 UK wideboys…(who also live here)…well actually they were toffs with plummy voices and nice cars and enough “boys toys” to make your eyes water; but put the soccer on here and the “wideboys” and “diamond geezers” miraculously morph from these London stock brokers and brand managers…and its fantastic to watch!

I was going to watch the game regardless – to be honest I love the World cup and it would have been great to see In-ga-lund go all the way and lift the cup – would be great to see Bafana do it as well one day by the way…

So an invitation to new stockbroker-belt and Lotus and Beemer filled streets was passed onto me – wide screen TV my host says, garden patio and a braai…you cant go wrong can you! Firstly its perfect weather here at the mo – its 30 degrees sunny and a typically English summer…when the weather plays ball here you cant go wrong…sadly its doesn’t happen enough!

Okay there was one glitch here – the “braai-er” was English and he was using a gas braai (barbeque)…not his fault; he can know no better! But to cut what could be a long culinary story short; suffice to say the food was great even if there was a certain element of the “Cajun” look about the chicken…and burgers on the braai?...what is it with the British that they (a) feel the need to Braai a hamburger??? And (b) feel that it should look like a crispy, burnt hockey puk before it is truly ready for human consumption!…I still had three…they were great.

Anyway food and faces truly smashed (not to mention several bottles of Rose – not my normal tipple but when in rome…) we headed to the “grand stadium” that is host’s and Hedgefund managers playground and lounge. Folks I have always believed in bachelor comforts…my pad was set up originally as an acquisition tool for my social life and once the acquisition had been made I turned it into a pad of creature comforts…everything a self respecting bachelor living the high life could require…I was Hugh Grant in “about a boy”…without the kid with the funny haircut obviously…

My host however had taken this to next level – he had not “acquired” on a permanent basis (girls I am talking about you now BTW) but seems to prefer to remain fluid in his choice of female companionship. With this in mind his lounge is like a boys dream – the wall mounted flat screen, surround sound and wireless ipod connection, the carefully stashed away PSII, the L shaped couch…a man after my own heart and the perfect venue to watch Ingalund play.

The point of this story is to make a simple observation about British fans and there sport. We as South Africans are to say the least fanatical about rugby and cricket and of course soccer but I have never in my life seen such pain and anguish suffered by a British world cup football fan.

It’s infectious – everywhere here, people are driving with St Gorges flags flying from their car windows; white and red crosses hang from the houses and very few of the muddy island residents are not wearing some sort of national pageantry in support of the game and team.

It was a mind numbingly and heart pounding game – every moment from Beckham going off, Rooney and his “ball” kicking through to extra time and penalties. The screaming, shouting and pleading with the ref left our mouths and throats in pain. The foot stomping on the lead up to the goal attempts was truly tribal. I have never in my life been so heart pounding-ly pulled into an event – watching it here with the national pride at its height was incredible! I and the rest of the saffers in that room at that moment proud to be British…

And then “we” lost…

Their highs, as with any ups and downs, were equal to their troughs of despair. Blame went everywhere. Portugal’s acting in fouls, Eriksson for been paid 20 mil and not delivering, Rooney for crotch stomping…Posh spice for taking Beckhams manhood away…its true it was discussed!

The quiet in the streets, post-match, was deafening – London was silent…England had returned to its mopey ways almost as fast as it had found its Mojo Saturday morning, in anticipation of battle.

In summation according to many here. Eriksson was shite, Rooney acted like a teenager (he is you know?!) and Ronaldo will never get as far as Manchester to play his next game for United…

In true Saffer style, I caught a cab back to my sisters house with the rest of the SA contingent and we braaid again…we drank beer, cooked the chicken to perfection and talked about the boks and surfing.

Life is good.

Butternut soup and Vegas...

2006-06-23T22:54:00.000+12:00

For My soup?...

Lunch has just been served at the office…I had soup…with the soup came a spoon and a serviette…and a tooth pick?

Its Butter nut soup…what’s the tooth pick for? How stringy can a butternut be?

Anyway – my mind is currently in both a state of flux and constant motion! This time next week I will be in Vegas with a daily average temp of 45 degrees and a Sea Food Buffet for myself made for seven.

I have just been to the radio station to say goodbye or rather Bon Voyage…I am coming back…its just three months!!

Pretty sad though been almost ten years that I have been on air in some capacity…

Think it shall be an adventure though – not quite Indiana Jones and the temple of Doom but the Land of Lost Wages I sure will hold many treasures…and light bulbs…

Okay have to phone the Embassy re. Passport AGAIN!

PS Butternut soup good – not lumpy and stringy; as predicted the toothpick is superfluous to the meal really…go figure.

Viva Vegas Viva...

2006-06-22T18:03:00.000+12:00

My new home..."a South African in Vegas"...where is Sting when u need a song written...

It's been quiet around here...

So the reason for the solitude on this blog over the past few days is that I have not stopped running from pillar to post (odd expression but its true - I have had them installed in my house – one at each end and they keep me fit...who needs a running machine when I have a pillar and a post!...okay that’s not true its the caffeine talking...but what great idea to sell through VeriMark!).

In the past few days I have left my old job (not my one air one although I have left that too now albeit for a sabbatical...confusing?) , and am now in the process of packing my bags for a three month stint in Las Vegas – life is fast round here people keep up!

Now I cannot tell you why I am going as its work based and we like to keep things hush here at MI5...dammit...that’s not true either, forget I told you. But suffice to say I cannot divulge my reasons for going or what I shall be doing there.

I can, however tell you the “in's and out” of the big city when I get there...which suddenly gives this blog a whole new reason for living! Not only will I be able to keep up with such socialites as Paris, Nicole and the rest of the celebutante strip-junkies, but I will also hopefully be bringing you first hand news of the Playboy bunnies hot off the press! After all dear readers Las Vegas is home to Hugh Hefner Drive!...where else would they be hiding out?

So a few good things have fallen from the apple tree with regards to this - as in previous posts I have been telling you my flat in Cape Town is still be restored / built / financially crippled over the past 2 years - my lease was up on my rented apartment this month and I was about to be homeless once more, save intervention from the parents. Fortunately fate stepped in and offered my bright lights, dessert air and an all-you-can-eat 24-hour buffet at the Bellagio.

So while I am away, the speedy little buggers XXXXXXX construction can while-away a few more good man hours, sitting in my flat chopping on a sarnie (genuinely - went to check progress on flat at 3pm a few days ago and apparently that is builders tea-party time...who knew?) and hopefully within three months and upon my triumphant return, perhaps they may have completed the geyser installation...well there is always hope.

Right now I am waiting on my British Passport to be delivered - this is a whole other story which frankly I feel to exhausted to explain here but suffice (third time I have used that word now) to say it was stolen / went "missing" in a move to my rented flat without my knowing - so when I came to start booking flights lo-and-behold me and the British High Commission nearly kick off World War 3... as always with bureaucracy they won…but I live to fight another day.

Okay must dash now and get the day started...

P.S.

Moses lasted 40 days in the desert...but I have aircon, All-You-Can-Eat buffets and a water-mist spray, so I should be okay.

Playboy update and Felicia is loved...

2006-06-14T18:34:00.000+12:00

Where did she go?...is she still happy?...Does she still sing her theme tune...?

I feel the need to say that I was watching Heff and the Mansion women again last night – a full hour! E-Tv knows a thing or two about keeping its audience enthralled.

I have discovered where the attraction comes in (to keep watching I mean…even for women). And its not the girls in bikinis! It’s the fact the three girls are just lying, lying, lying! Well two of them are…

Lying when they say they are happy with the situation that is. Its becoming more and more apparent however as we “strip back those layers” (Michael Moore would be proud of this doccie) that Kendra is actually very cool with it all…or does not know that Heff could die at any moment and she would be back in Tentville very fast…

She loves beautiful ladies, as she keeps telling us and she seems to love Heff too. For a women who seems to come from a trailer park on the bad side of Detroit (is there a good side there I don’t know?...I only saw 8 mile once…) she is more than happy just to have hot running water and some food – pretty much like an adopted child of the Jolie-Pitt family I should imagine.

Basically I sum her up as a overly tanned stray pavement special, adopted by kindly old pensioner. I don’t really think she competes with the other two – she doesn’t need too…as long as she is not hooking up her caravan to the mains each night she is content and in heaven…Bless.

Now the other two!!! Holly is perhaps the most possessive kitty in the litter – the rabid-rabbit in the Heff hutch…watch this one! I think when it comes to a Bunny girl celebrity slamming-matches, she is the one who will come out with rabbits feet bared and carrots at high-noon.

She is Heff’s oldest bunny girlfriend (longest) but not the oldest girl (as in age…u keeping up?). Bridgett takes that mantle (and I hate to say it looks it too) – Bridge however is super brainy and qualified in some masters of something…bikinis I suspect…so she could probably out-wit and out-play Holly in a to-the-death game of Weakest link….”you are the weakest bikini strap – please go…”

While Kendra welcomes new playmates like old friends ( a puppy with a new toy) to the Mansion, the other two – Blondie and the Brain – stare down the possible competition and sneakily pass snide remarks to the camera…as is the want of a reality TV star.

So…I have gone off Holly a bit – she was my fav but she is getting a bit “snivels” this week. I don’t know…perhaps the producers set her up; hey it happened to Omarosa!!!

So this week my allegiance is with Kendra – she is not the prettiest but I am sure you will agree beauty is only skin deep – even Felicia has a husband which rather proves my point that anyone can be loved.

Kendra gets it this week because she is not worried about losing – she doesn’t even know there is a competition…I go with her because right now she doesn’t have to wake up in the morning, feed the pets (rats) and make sure the tyres on her home are still inflated – and that’s progress right there folks!

Peddling financial sense from the call center...

2006-06-13T21:01:00.000+12:00

My new casa...if the bank has its way...

Banks are funny people.

I recently took out a bond on a property that I paid a deposit on two years ago – I haven’t moved into the property yet, as its not finished.

It’s a long story and all the details can be found in my blog post here http://whenthemikeisoff.blogspot.com/2006/06/swiss-clocks-and-glass-flowerswhere.html .

My problem is now this – I want to move in but after two years of waiting and huge cash payments to get things in working order (100k of my own money to get some water and electricity – Eskom willing) I have practically exhausted my savings but still have no kitchen and bathroom in the place...G-freind not keen on living in home without bath and my comments about buckets and hot water is not going down a treat...

I want to move out of my rented house as I am sick and tired of paying rent for past 2 years and now paying rent and a bond – we are talking nearly 13k a month in just having a roof over my head - actually 2 roofs but one is not over my head…

So with my sound reasoning I approach the bank that supplied my bond and explained that the property is worth far more than I paid for it 2 years ago…my income allows me far more than I have currently bonded on the property, so let’s do a deal.

My request is simple – I need to borrow more to complete the property and move in – I have the required finances – you have the cash…but…Bank says NO.

Why?

Well the bond is only 3 months old – I need to wait longer to be able re-mortgage my bond…I can understand that to a point, however when I asked the young man on the call center switch board what I should do while I slowly bankrupt myself with rent and bond every month, he suggested I take out a personal loan to complete the property…

So here goes folks; my sound financial advice in print from my sound financial advisor “the bank guy”:

A rough guide to my living expenses as of next momth...before I have eaten.

Bond: R6000 (can handle that – it’s my home)

Rent: R5000 (can handle that as I have somewhere to live – except I HAVE SOMEWHERE TO LIVE I JUST CANT MOVE INTO IT!)

Personal loan over three years (100k): Roughly R5000 PM!!

So my new found “Financial advisor” is suggesting 16k a month in base living expenses (while I continue to build) not including car, insurances, pensions investments etc..mmm I wont be going broke and homeless anytime soon then!!

Oh why cant I be one of Heff's girlfreinds now!

All is not negative though - “call centre guy” will probably have been promoted by then – if this is his way of thinking, then his bosses are going to snap him up for his management potential - S*it put him in charge of retail banking costs!!!

The great thing is that when I am finished and moved in, instead of paying rent I will now be paying a personal loan off…until such time as I can re-mortgage…

Now I am not blaming anyone here – if this is how things work out then so be it – but at the end of the day surely the bank can look at the situation, see that I am not an idiot and that the property is valued at a higher amount than bonded…and I will be paying roughly R1000 more instead of paying R5000 a month at far greater interest! That way I can pay the bond with ease and they won’t have to come chasing me for cash…?

When they come to me to ask for there house back I will be pointing out this blog….

Yours asset forfeiture.

Hugh...the man is genius...

2006-06-10T08:32:00.000+12:00

Hugh the god of mansions and all things fluffy with tails....

I was talking about Hugh Heff the other night – possibly the best TV entertainment on right now after Eastenders and the re-runs of Felicia on the series channel…(okay thats a joke...)

Basically the whole show revolves around Heff, his three (count them…1…2…3!) Playboy bunnies Holly, Bridget and Kendra and the fun they have at the mansion…its TV genius…I am hooked...its like the first series of Survivor but with cute little bunny ears and lots of platinum hair dye!

The girls all pretend to get on well and love eachother - sure why wouldnt they be happy - roof over their head, millionaire boyfriend who must be close to buying the farm and their own TV show...heck I would do it! Except sleep with H...he's lovely but male and wrinkly...its just not me...but I would be happy to look after the girls...he must be tired every now and then...its the least I could do heff...

First time viewers may be forgiven for thinking Hugh is dating triplets...who's mother OD'd on a bottle of bleach and self tan just before popping them out...then H came along and adopted the poor orphans and raised them as his own....okay maybe thats my fantasy...things are getting blurred...

In fact each girl has her own personality and hair tone...although both are equally as subtle...each week E-TV plans to slowly peel back their complex characters and reveal the girl behind the bunny ears and Pam Anderson hairdo...

A quick synopsis of who is who in the Bunny cage:

Holly
Holly is a beautiful blonde from Alaska. She claims she is Hef’s number one girlfriend. Holly has been dating Hef for three and half years. She spends the night in Hef’s room and seems pretty possessive of her man. Holly also said she wants Hef to get rid of his other two girlfriends and focus completely on her.

Bridget
Bridget is Hef’s second girlfriend. She is from California and has been dating Hef for three years, only 6 months less than Holly. Bridget said that she and Holly are best friends. Bridget said that most people think of two words when they see Hef’s girlfriends…bimbo and slut.

Kendra
Kendra is girlfriend number three. Hef met her when she was waitressing a cocktail party at the Mansion. Granted her clothes were of the painted on variety but she was a cocktail waitress nonetheless. Kendra has been dating Hef for a year.

Right now my biggest problem is who do I like more?…Okay I have removed Heff from the running here; although he is a demi-god in my books…come on! At his age and he has three of them???…mind you he owns the company…and shares in Viagra no doubt.

To be honest although she is a bit posseive Holly is winning in my stakes at the moment – she is a good blend between brains and looks whereas the other two are either to athletic and thick; thats Kendra or a bit too “non-entity” in my opinion…that would be Bridge….

I might change my thoughts here – its early days, the bunnies have only just left the gates – we are only a week into the series…afterall I wasn’t a fan of the A-Teams Murdoch until about the third episoide, so I am reserving final judgemnet until the final screening…

I wait with baited breathe in my new purple velvet heff gown and remote control…

Co Mun Ni Ca Shun...

2006-06-10T02:00:00.000+12:00

It’s been a thing of mine forever. If you work in media – especially the type that requires you to talk as your preferred form of communication i.e. radio and TV then you should be able to actually speak the language your communicating in – clearly.

I am not talking about helping lost tourists looking for TABBEL MOUNT, DA WATTERFRROOONT or MERVREEKS, but rather some of the people that occupy space inside my radio and behind the flat-screen at home.

I can already here the gasps from the far left now! Everyone is equal and we should all get an equal chance in life yadda yadda…Well now no!…screw yourself because sadly this is not true in media. Print its fine – there we have spell checker…radio and TV…no.

The whole point of a news broadcast or such like is to get your message across – inform and educate the person on the other end, with TV license in hand saying, “I paid for this so tell me what’s going on today”.

If you are missing the one obvious thing that makes this happen for example – THE ENGLISH LANGAUGE – then don’t do it.

I want to know what’s going on when I watch the news – not try and work out what the f&*k you are saying and then only after that get an idea of what the actual story is about. I am not been unfair here as I would not even attempted to speak another persons language and think that I was even mildly getting my point across…

No German radio station has ever come up to me and said “hey why don’t you read the news for us this evening?” – You know why? Because the know that even if I was reading from a teleprompt I would still never in a million years be able to deliver the message in an understandable format!

I can speak Afrikaans and understand it better – however I would not dream, as a radio presenter to pretend, that me talking Afrikaans on air is not going to be difficult for some listeners to understand – so I don’t. I have conversations in Afrikaans regularly, but its normally me listening in their language and vice versa.

As an example I heard an advert this AM on radio describing how you could win a trip to Ecuador…sounds fab except the voice over artist pronounced it EeeeCudor…its EK QUI DOOR you brain fart EK – QUI – DOOR…its tantamount to you sitting at home with your calculator and saying “Oh 1 and 1 Ekwells 2”… How can the producer of that Ad let it go out like that? …that makes at least two stupid people in the booth at once?

Had to get that off my chest…

PS. I too have made screw ups on air, in the past, through wrong pronunciation and I realize it happens…I have had them pointed out and then don’t do it again. Now when I am unsure I look it up… BTW Producer and pratt Voice Over Artists…Its under EC…in the dictionary…it’s a place by the way…in case you were unsure…

It had to happen....

2006-06-08T23:36:00.000+12:00

What can one say...didnt Shiloh N. stand for new Messiah?

the Nico MaArtsCape

2006-06-08T23:21:00.000+12:00

Hi my name is Leisure Suit Larry - this is my lounge - I based it on the Arstcape...

I went to the theater last night; the Nico Malan or as we know it now the Post-aparthied-we-cant-have-a-malan-on-the-nameplate-anymore-lets-call-it-Tshwane-oh-no-that’s-taken-how-about-the-Artscape Opera House.

The show was Mama Mia, which to the un-initiated is based on a Greek island and Abba music simultaneously…it sounds odd but it works – brilliantly too – but more on that later.

What I could not help noticing was the Nic’s shabby interior. From the outside that glass structure is still phenomenal and really gives you the feeling you are going on a proper night out when you walk up those stairs. Really gives you that Opera house feel.

I remember as kids been dragged to the theatre for a quick injection of culture regularly – my mother who was born a hippy (no really the yanked her out by her braids and had to do a c-section to get her guitar out), demanded that we would see ballet, opera and the likes in case we turned out to the like the kids next door – laidback, fun and skateboarders…I though they were kinda cool to be honest mum…feel I missed out there...

Anyway once inside that vast hulk of stone, concrete and glass I noticed that things haven’t changed since hippy used to take us there when we were kids – it’s the same carpet!!!! I could have sworn blind that the stain I left there as a 12 year old after vomiting up my coke post-Cinderella matinee was still there.

Those hanging chandeliers that were so "must have" back in the 70’s are still hanging there like a faded Bee-Gees album cover – the not-so-shiny-black veneer bar still lurks in the corner looking like something from a Miami Vice scene…its just so sad!!!!

It’s almost as bad as the Baxters half-a-citrus fruit decoration covering up the mould on their ceilings…buts that is an entirely different fruit basket of a conversation – don’t get me started!

Back to the Nic - I love the place I really do and the shows that get put on there are truly world class – but surely someone at the Artscape must have thought …”Hang on a moment – didn’t smoky brown glass and wood paneling go out with disco?...do we really need the brown carpet in the foyer still or should we change it something more modern and closer to the 80’s??”

My point is its like stepping back in time – I have never been to the Sydney opera house or such like, but I am damn sure that the place does not look like the interior of some ageing lounge-lizard lotharios shag pad…you get the distinct impression that if you happened to mention to one of the staff members there that "Earth, Wind and Fire" have actually in fact broken up they would be devastated! Did anyone mention the Millennium to these people? Do they know that not only has the BMW 6 series been taken out of production but it has been so long it has in actual fact been bought back as a retro!? ,

Come on people show some class!!

The show itself was incredible – the cast is out of this world and if you have never been a theatre-goer this is possibly the best show on earth to kick start your culture buds.

The plot is relatively simple, the music is all based on Abba (although I am sure the people at the Nico think it’s an original score – Abba as a group will only reach them in the 1970’s which by calculations is a mere three years away in Malan Time...about the same time they will hear that Beatles are breaking up...) and there is more than enough clapping and humming to keep the most absent mind entertained.

Go see it its on now – click here to get your tickets!
http://www2.computicket.com/

PS. it is clever isnt it - ArtScape? - its like lanscape for the arts...but also stands for Cape Arts...not remotley obvious...

Shiloh, Portman and Armidillo's....

2006-06-08T00:07:00.000+12:00

Brad and Angie - In the future I shall know them as mum and dad...

So the first pics of Shiloh, the world’s most famous baby since Jesus and the birth of that little Panda bear, born in captivity a few years back in China, have been released…and true to form she may be days old but she is a stunner.

I feel the need to confess – the thing is you know that Shiloh is going to be a goddess – it’s a DNA proven fact that it cannot be any other way. And you know that Brad and Angie are loaded…so here’s my problem…

Do I hold off and wait until she is of dating age?…or do I make friends with them now…Shi can grow up knowing me as the lovable uncle R and as soon as she is of dating age, we go check out a movie then back to my place for a night cap?...
You see it’s guaranteed that the in-laws will be cool to hang out with…and when they pop the inheritance will be insane …

I used to feel guilty about these thoughts but then when I saw Natalie Portman in the Professional / Leon – she was 13 (probably younger but lie to myself so I feel better) and I knew she was hot …she was going to be shaggable from the start and I just had to wait – then a few years down the track, Queen Armadillo (or whatever it was) is shagging Darth Vader and I am vindicated!

(yes this has been written about before by Seth (www.2oceansvibe.com) he did call it - but I have always felt it in my loins and agree with him)

So I am calling it now! Uncle R is going to hang with Bradgelina and then when she is 18 we are sneaking off to the back row with some pop corn…screw it a man must have goals!

As if to prove a celeb baby names point! For Chrizz sakes...

2006-06-07T23:47:00.000+12:00

As if to prove my point about stupid names and celebs…well quasi famous athletes in this case but I am sure Hestrie is very well known in her dorp...

This is from news24 today – take a read - unbelievable!

Take the names Suzette and Christiaan. Combine them and you'll get the name of a baby daughter called Chrizette.
This is what the daughter of singer Jurie Els and South Africa's high jump queen, Hestrie Cloete, will be called.
An excited Cloete said: "Jurie's first name is Christiaan and my second name is Suzette. I combined the names and our daughter will be called Chrizette.
"We haven't heard this name before. We'll have to see if she's going to be the only one in South Africa with this name."

Full story here: [http://www.news24.com/News24/Backpage/HotGossip/0,,2-1343-1344_1946639,00.html]

Now firstly when your name is already Hestrie you have to know something about been kicked before you have started to walk…so why oh why pass the mantle of shitdom down to your very own offspring – surely being born with original sin is enough!

Secondly and this gets my goat – her husband Jurie Els prefers to be called Jurie rather than his real name Christiaan…what is with that? Surely its an obvious choice??...I can understand if your first name is Pratt and your second is Billy you will choose the first but….????

And thirdly, Hestrie you are completely right – little Chrizette (I cringe writing that) will be the only one with that name...for a very long time to come FOR F-ING OBVIOUS REASONS!!!!!

CHRIZETE??...how do you shorten that?...I can only imagine the bed side manner in the nursery of the Cloete’s home:

“Ah little Crizzie (cringe again) “…tickle under chin, burp, burp….

“Ag nee – klein Crizzjie needs a nappy change…sis crizz…”

Please Jurie and Hestrie if not for your own sake then for little Crizzzzesessss (where the F do you put the apostrophe??) - please re think!

Just don’t reverse it and make it your first name and Juries second (assuming Jurie is it?)…because then it will be Hest-rie and you of all people have to know how that feels…

How To Murder 101 and CSI Cape Town

2006-06-07T20:44:00.000+12:00

Just reading an article on Dina Rodriguez.

An arb thought – but if in the days of Criminal TV sensations – With CSI (pick your city of choice), Medical Detectives and the likes…surely if u plan to murder someone u would sit down and watch a few episodes, you know - get an idea of what the boys in blue might be looking out for…small things like, finger prints, hand writing samples…cell phone logs!!!!!!

To any prospective murderers out there check out this link www.TVSA.co.za - it has all the relevent info...

Just a thought.

PS. if we had CSI Cape Town I truly believe the first half of the program would be setting the scene; the next half hour would be trying to work out who nicked the bloody evidence!!!

666, Onion the Overlord and wheat farming...

2006-06-07T20:02:00.000+12:00

So yesterday was supposed to be the Day of the Beast and Armageddon…checked out the window this morning and nothing seemed to have changed…no dark burnt sky…no loud disembodied voice saying, “It’s okay you don’t have to go to work today as I, the Dark Lord, have taken over now and you will no longer need salaries, pension and enough money to pay for your bond…take it easy today, for tomorrow u shall die”.

Nothing, nadda, zilch…

In a way it’s a bit disappointing…after the Zuma trial and Dina Rodriguez pretty much been sown up (I mean come on!! Put her way now – surely everyone must realize she did it?...or am I the only one?) I could have dealt with some light hearted action. I must admit I felt the same after the 20th Anniversary of the Chernobyl disaster…I am sure you will agree – two decades on and no super heroes?... there was so much promise?

Actually if you think about, what if the dark One was born yesterday? Probably the way things are going he would have been born to some Hollywood celebrities and given possibly the daftest name ever – like Onion Stallone.

Now I don’t know about you but if a guy comes up to me with horns, smelly brimstone breathe and a pitch fork, declaring that he, Onion Stallone the dark Lord is here to screw around with my day a bit, whether I can take him seriously?

Which begs the question - Why do they do it?

Gerry Halliwell (Or Jelly as I like to call her since the pregnancy) ex-spice girls idiot-in-chief, had a baby the other day. She called it Bluebell Madonna – fortunately for Bluebell she is a girl, but what a stupid name – it’s not enough that her mum screwed her life up being the ginger one from the Crap Girls, but her reasoning was that Bluebells were very rare now (babies are not Jelly there are tons of ‘em!) and that no one really had the name Madonna….pardon?...uuummm!!!!…there is one with that name actually Jelly…two if you count baby Jesus mother…although that has never been biologically proven (the mother-son relationship I mean – but I digress)…the fact is if you are running around the playground with the name Bluebell Halliwell you are only going to get the shit kicked out of you…it stands to reason.

Personally I am waiting for the day some really famous Hollywood couple have a kid and call it something completely normal like Derek or Arthur…sadly in their tinsel town world that would be deemed amazingly original…

PS – does Shiloh not sound like a wheat farmer with a lisp trying to tell you where he stores his grain?...just a thought.

Swiss clocks and glass flowers...where will i live!!

2006-06-07T04:20:00.000+12:00

I am trying to build a flat in the middle of Cape Town. The saga has been going for the past 2 years – let me fill you in quickly here – property has always turned me on...the old quote “they are not making any more land” tickles my senses. Its true you see – the one thing we will eventually run out of in the city and the 'burbs is space – so the sooner u get in thru the market door and stake your flag in the ground the better...[just looking over my shoulder and making sure I actually said that and not my dad...crying out loud I am growing up...].

Anyway for quite a while was looking for a space [thats what I called it – very arty hey?] in the city – I didn't want a ready-made place...that would be to easy; no I wanted to create my own place and space in my own time. I can hear you laughing already...stop it!
Eventually through a friend I was introduced to a developer who had just bought an art deco building in the center of town – old building – beautiful architecture etc – I honestly thought it was to good to be true – the price for a empty four walls was less than half a mil which for city going through a boom bigger than than a Cosatu gathering i couldn't lose i thought.
I was right I couldn't lose - but i could be bled dry very, very slowly...

The developer sold me on some glass flowers that were going to adorn the one side of the building – stunning features that would be lit up and give the building an amazing arty feel – that combined with some very carefully selected sculptures dotted around the hanging garden in the center of a bustling cosmopolitan city how could I not shell out a few hundred thousand clams with absolute confidence...afterall he is swiss – they always know what they are doing...they shit like clock work, don't know what pollution is and make amazing chocolate...what's not to like?

So...after two years, a ton of cash later the flowers and the sculptures..they are in and very pretty they are too – you cant park in the building yet, the lifts don't work and the place is entirely uninhabitable but the flowers and the naked orange women made of stone look wonderful – every inch the beauty that the swiss toy maker had promised
My flat?...well lets see... I paid 100k in my very own hard earned cash to get the wet works done – wet works the un-initiated BTW is the plumbing, electrical connections and some other odds an ends that make up 100 thousands rands worth of wires, pipes and cement dust now decorating what one day shall be my living room.

I have an empty cement block which one day will house my bathroom and three windows in the lounge that were painted so lavishly with Dulux wall-and-all that the chances of ever getting them undone so one can sample the view [which was 80 percent the reason for buying – the other 20 percent was that I did need somewhere to live] is less likely than Zuma been charged for anything.

The upshot of it all is that I have 3 weeks left in my current place on the lease – i cant extend further as i originally came here for three months back in beginning of 2005 on the understanding I would take transfer in August and be moving out into a land of glassy floral decoration.

However I also cant move into said land of glass and naked orange women as the place is quite obviously unfit for actual people – orange or otherwise to live there...
So I am resorting to what every 30 year old at the prime of life does when the shit hits the proverbial housing fan...I am calling mum and teling her to make up the spare bedroom... would take my old room in the house but i have a sneaky feeling my brother is already on that one...nothing like out of work actors to really piss on your home coming...

My plans for the day - and Hugh..

2006-06-06T15:09:00.000+12:00

I am currently doing the grave yard shift – sitting in for a mate of mine…its 5am..one hour to go and I cant help thinking that today I shall do sweet F-all…it’s a comforting thought that when I hit the pillow in approx 1hr and 3 minutes (there abouts…) I shall have done a full days work (in radio terms…which I might add is never a full day…ever…unless u do a show then go off to a free function for some cosmetics / magazine / clothing launch, get fed to the eyeballs, free-boozed-up just shy of the top of the throat and then go home in a sloppy stupor…that in radio terms my friends is a full day at the office). When I wake – most likely u shall be at work…I plan to sit and watch ETV on channel 41 and catch up on Hughs Hefners latest antics at the mansion…
I have to admit I admire old Hugh – while the rest of us spent our youth trying to raise cash in order to buy porn mags and get women into bed…Old H just went and bought a magazine (by that I mean he actually bought the entire business – not just a Cosmo) and then invited women into his bed so he could take pictures of them naked on the pretext that it would be good for their career (not to mention his)…the guy is a genius…he never gets out of his Jammies – has atleast three girls at anyone time and never even has to surf the net for porn…did the Greeks have a Hef version in their God‘s line up???

Turning the mike off and the lap top on....

2006-06-06T14:43:00.000+12:00

I’m not sure where to begin actually…this all came about from me reading other blogs and thought well that just sounds like a great idea! Anon confessions of everything I ever wanted to say on air but never got the time, the balls or the where-with-all to say…I work in radio obvoiusly but naturally its not a free platform to just let lose at the nation…this however is – even if they never see it…I shall be talking behind their collective backs and just you and I shall know…its quite possinly the sneakiest thing I ever did! James Bond should have one of these…he could tell us everything he was sworn to secrecy not too…well it’s a thought…