After a wonderful night at Caprice, following their ever successful Caprice Volleyball Day, we were treated to another pearler from our Lord Jesus Christ in the form of today’s perfect day (late 20’s, no cloud, no wind. Very sexual).

I packed the perfect beach bag and took Libby (my scooter) down to The Strip to grab a princess wrap from Kauai (it was obviously the princess wrap. It’s not like they sell anything else). Camps Bay frightened me a bit so I decided to stick to last Sunday’s plan and pump a bit of Beta Beach. God it was glorious.

Touch yourself

Everything was just too gorgeous for words. The iPod was throwing out some crackers, as I tossed my Sunday Times into the air along with the Vanity Fair – allowing them both to open in mid-air and fall on top of me untidily. I breathed in the air. The smell of the newspaper, combined with the Vanity Fair and the Piz Buin was incredibly sexual. I had a little tweaker and got into the Beta Beach zone – the zone where hardly a word is spoken and everyone on that beach is thanking God that we have places like this. Where we chill the fuck out without having to worry about a SINGLE THING. It’s the one place in Cape Town where you don’t HAVE TO do the big fake hello and standard 2 minutes bullshit catch-up. If you recognise someone on Beta, a little nod is MORE than enough. We all came here together to escape. Everything.

It was interesting to note that God and Satan chose Beta Beach as the battleground for today’s classic good vs evil clash – as God’s beautiful setting was infiltrated by one of Satan’s FINEST. Possibly his worst yet.

A peculiarly plain looking man in his late 40’s / early 50’s entered the scene, stage right.

I began The Lord’s Prayer in my mind, hoping he wouldn’t set up shop in the BARELY available space between the rocks about 5 meters away from me. I had clearly forgotten some of the words, as our boy flicked open one of those canvas camper chairs. Pretty tame, I thought to myself, watching him erect an umbrella in between his cluster of rocks. That’s when he started whistling. I looked up, startled. Not because someone was whistling so loud that it could be heard OVER Sade’s Your Love is King playing on my iPod (making full use of our new acquisition, The Bose In-Ear headphones) – it was in response to the surely impossible prospect of this little man being a little man WITH DOGS. On Beta Beach.

Nice dog.

I decided that, although UNHEARD OF on Beta Beach, these dogs are obviously the kind that just sit still and don’t bother anyone. It’ll be fine. I returned to my secret little world, closed my eyes and floated away.

That was until I felt a wet nose in my face. I opened my eyes and realised my worst fears had come true. The man’s revolting, smelly dog was on the loose. Its disgusting snout was now INSIDE my bag, having a go at the crisps I bought from Woolies.

"Ah for fuck sakes," I exclaimed, sitting up to see where the dog’s owner had disappeared to. Alarmingly, our boy had not escaped to ANYWHERE. He was EXACTLY where he was before, very relaxed, LOOKING at me and the dog – as though NOTHING was going on.

"Your dog, bru!" I pleaded to the man, pushing the WET mutt away from me, appalled by what was transpiring. I looked at him, expecting him to apologise, or jump up and get his dog and, hopefully, get the fuck off the beach. He didn’t move a muscle. But he did respond:

"Come on, man, she’s 16 years old," was his retort.

I was stunned.

She is 16 years old…

He went on to say that if I had a problem I should "call the cops."

Oh dear….. WHAT are we dealing with here?

He didn’t quite get it. The dog’s AGE was irrelevant. I mean, I fucking love dogs but there’s a time and place for everything. It just wasn’t about that. This wasn’t a case of anyone hating dogs or being scared of the dog or ANYTHING else – this was a case of the dog BOTHERING people. I don’t give a fuck if the dog has won a Pulitzer Prize and is a direct descendent of The Queen’s Corgi’s – that’s not what it’s about.

I explained this to the man, but he just shook his head. I got into the Sunday Times in an attempt to forget what was going on around me. A friend of mine and her boyfriend were also a few meters away and a few minutes later I looked up and spotted the guy pushing the very same dog away from him, disgusted. The dog scuttled away, with something in its mouth, a roll of sorts which had been acquired from the gentleman’s packet of goodies next to him.

"You just don’t get it, do you?" I asked the evil man who was, AGAIN, simply watching the events unfold. Again he told me the dog was 16 years old. It was too much for me and I informed the man of his unfathomable levels of selfishness and how he was single-handedly ruining everyone’s day. I told him that it was PERFECTLY fine for him to take his dogs to Camps Bay beach or Llandudno beach, but people came to this beach to ESCAPE that kind of shit.

"Ooooh, CAMPS BAAAY," he replied in a mocking voice. The kind of overly-posh, larney voice people from Jo’burg put on to tease people from Cape Town. I looked around at my fellow beach-goers, who were shaking their heads in unison. This guy had some serious issues. I have no doubt that he still lives with his mother.

"You’re a weirdo," I informed him.

"You should consider rehab," was his outstanding retort.

"You should consider wiping that secret 3 gig folder off your computer before the police get you!" I said.

He seemed miffed and went for a dip. I didn’t know what to do. He simply couldn’t grasp what was going on. He didn’t understand that there was a time and place for dogs and a wet dog nose in one’s face was NOT something one has to deal with on this beach. There was only one thing I could think of to let him understand the intrusion. I turned my camera’s volume on full and started taking photographs of him.

"Stop taking photographs of me," he said.

"But how else are you going to understand the intrusion you are causing for the rest of us?" I asked.

"What are you going to do with those those photographs?" he replied.

"I’m probably going to take them home and wank over them," I said.

"That’s what I thought," said the guy.

A minute passed and, unhappy with the result, I said, quite loudly, "Or MAYBE I’m going to put them on the internet so that everyone can see what people like you look like"

His chest began to heave as he tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress the anger building up inside his weak frame. 10 seconds later he JUMPED UP and began dismantling his umbrella.

Then, without warning, HE CAME AT ME WITH THE BOTTOM PART OF THE UMBRELLA!

"GIVE ME THAT CAMERA!!" he screamed, hysterically – charging at me with the umbrella pole.

I didn’t move a muscle. It was simply impossible that he would hit me, on the beach, with an umbrella. It wasn’t going to happen. It COULDN’T happen. The day just couldn’t get any crazier. And anyway, who hits someone else with an umbrella pole when the person isn’t even defending himself?

That was when the guy gave a FULL WIND UP and hit me across my legs and shins with the umbrella pole – bending it over 45 degrees. I COULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED!

"Jesus Christ, bru," I shouted, jumping up, with the pole now in my hand.

"Wipe those pictures off that camera right now," he screamed, fetching the top part of the umbrella. He had the umbrella in his one hand and had also released the PEN he had from his shorts, and was holding it in his other hand – like one would a knife.

The pen – can be used as a sword.

I told the man to put the umbrella down and calm the fuck down. I said I would erase the pictures. Everyone sat down.

I fiddled with the camera as I packed up my things. I couldn’t imagine myself staying there much longer.

"There, it’s done. The pictures are gone. Do you want to see?" I asked the demented freak show.

"No, I’ll take your word for it," he said.

Well, he shouldn’t have, because there was no way in hell I wasn’t going to keep those pictures for you to see.

Can you believe it?

This is the result of the attack. People have mentioned pressing charges against the guy but I mean, really, do YOU have the time to press charges against someone who’s only defense for his dog sniffing faces and stealing food, is that the dog is 16?

No, you don’t. These people are best avoided.

Substantial bruising..
Including very unnecessary glimpse of bum
  

Tennis ball swelling on left shin.
Not ideal.

Otherwise the weekend went very well.

How was yours?

 

(Monya, I hope you enjoyed that Sunday beach entertainment.)