This sound clip is just something to behold. Taken from a local radio station where they obviously had some sort of a competition which required entrants to give their best impressions of a Formula 1 pit crew mechanic.
Well..... they were blessed with a phone in from one of our very own Cape Naturals. Absolutely hilarious! Enjoy his chirp to Michael Schumacher near the end of the clip - priceless.
Even better............ regular readers will TELL YOU that I sometimes publish lyrics of songs on 2oceansvibe (that's where you are now). Very true, I do. And today is one of those days. I have felt compelled to give you these lyrics for quite some time. You see, I only choose songs that I myself want to know about and, because you are a part of me, you want to know them too.
Today, I give you 'How Bizarre' by the one hit wonders, OMC. I know you want to know the words. You never QUITE knew what they were talking about. But don't fear - this is our gift to you. And for further insight I will tell you that OMC stands for 'Otara Millionaires Club'. I know, I'm a wealth of knowledge.
And now... :
Nothing short of hilarious
Brother Pele's in the back, sweet Zina's in the front
Cruisin' down the freeway in the hot, hot sun
Suddenly red-blue lights flash us from behind
Loud voice booming, "Please step out onto the line"
Pele preaches words of comfort, Zina just hides her eyes
Policeman taps his shades, "Is that a Chevy '69?"
How bizarre
How bizarre, how bizarre
Destination unknown, as we pull in for some gas
Freshly pasted poster reveals a smile from the past
Elephants and acrobats, lions snakes monkey
Pele speaks "righteous," Sister Zina says "funky"
How bizarre
How bizarre, how bizarre
Ooh, baby (Ooh, baby)
It's making me crazy (It's making me crazy)
Everytime I look around
Everytime I look around (Everytime I look around)
Everytime I look around
It's in my face
Ring master steps out and says "the elephants left town"
People jump and jive, but the clowns have stuck around
TV news and camera, there's choppers in the sky
Marines, police, reporters ask where, for and why
Pele yells, "We're outta here," Zina says, "Right on"
We're making moves and starting grooves before they knew we were gone
Jumped into the Chevy and headed for big lights
Wanna know the rest? Hey, buy the rights...
How bizarre
How bizarre, how bizarre
Ooh, baby (Ooh, baby)
It's making me crazy (It's making me crazy)
Everytime I look around
Everytime I look around (Everytime I look around)
Everytime I look around
It's in my face
Radical.
As an aside, I must make mention of the fact that I sang 'Simply the best' by Tina Turner at Dizzy's karaoke night in Camps Bay tonight. I've decided to be the "Tina Turner guy". I want to create an enigma of sorts.
What am I doing drinking and singing Tina Turner on a Tuesday night? (it's a joke, mum, I was fast asleep - I just like to pretend). It's worrying times like these that I turn to my friends and ask the question, "Where the fuck are all the parents?". How can we POSSIBLY be let loose like this?
Ok, that's enough. Beddie byes....
There is a good chance that next Tuesday will feature 'Private Dancer'.
[Warning, due to Seth's mood at the time, this story contains a fair deal of expletives]
About a month or so ago, a friend and I were confused by one of the first cold, wet days. We realised we hadn't programmed ourselves for plan B (winter). Plan B comes along every now and then. There are two kinds of Capetonians:(1) Those who ruin their summer worrying and preaching about the impending doom and when winter finally arrives they're thrown into an apocalyptic fit and get ill and yearn for summer. And, (2) those who look out the window every winter morning to see if they should now, perhaps, wear shorts - or more to the point, should they wear jeans AGAIN! The latter folk are not familiar with the timings of the seasons.
In conjunction with the second kind of Capetonian comes the option of plan B which is, really, a fresh idea to deal with the current 'strange' weather.
[by the way, the seasons don't get capital letters. (More here). And, you can start a sentence with the word 'and' ( More here).]
So it was suddenly cold and wet. We decided the obvious thing would be to go to Franschhoek for the day. We had visions of us tasting wines and flirting with German angels on tour.
Instead we found ourselves watching a Super 14 derby game at a semi-chain bar / restaurant. Hilarious. We accomplished absolutely nothing! Excepting for the fact that we stumbled upon one of the most amazing individuals that one can come across in this diverse nation of ours. He was sitting at the table next to us with two other guys. The white, insecure, loud, mid-20's guy who has mistaken one of God's favourite valleys for a Sandton City cappuccino outlet. I thought I was being punk'd. He was one of those special ones who talk loud enough for the entire room to hear - we certainly could. My friend and I listened, mouths agape, to the bullshit pouring out of the simpleton's revolting mouth. If I may.......
"Well, I'll say one thing..........money is bloody cheap at the moment"
Oh my God! Are you serious? Who talks like that? Money is 'cheap at the moment'? Jesus! Who are you? Are you a puppet of sorts? Why don't you regurgitate pi for us?
Needless to say the guy was wearing a thin long sleeve polar neck (you could even use the term 'turtle neck' in this case, to improve the story).
(With apologies to Animal)
So anyway, the clown carried on, very much regardless. And then it happened. Well, HE happened. He happened upon the "coffee culture" that has struck our nation. FUCKING COFFEE MADNESS BRU!!!! Fucking get me a LATTE bru! Fucking skim milk, dude! Fucking cappuccino tomorrow morning at 8 and I'll bring my portfolio CHINA!!!!
[We're losing it. Seth needs a moment to compose himself]
Ok. Sorry about that. So, knob-end starts to get into the topic of how addicted he is to coffee. God, that's cool! Fuck, you're interesting! Easily beatable though. I've been throwing up after meals lately. Bulimia beats coffee addiction! I win, A-hole.
Seriously though, the guy launched into it. And then, like magic, he gave us the most amazing pieces of bullshit I have ever witnessed in my life. He said:
"Seriously, it's fucking radical...... I spend about R300 a day on coffee"
[pause]
Shhhhh. Don't say anything yet. Just let it sink in..............R300 a day on coffee.
Take a deep breath. I have.
SO YOU'RE SAYING YOU SPEND R9,000, AFTER-TAX A MONTH ON COFFEE???? YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR, AND, MORE IMPORTANTLY, A FUCKING IDIOT!!!! Really, you are SUCH an IDIOT! Who made you? Imagine if your parents were here? They would spit in your eyes. Honestly, what is going on in your little head? I want to work you out. What is going on in there? What is wrong? Were you taken off the breast early? Give me something. Give me ANYTHING!
And please, for God's sake, remove that REVOLTING turtle neck!
I've been doing various exercises with my brain today and have come up with some stuff. Before I go on, angels, can you get me a cup of coffee please. Thanks.
Ok. So. It was a process. I've been wearing my new hat today. Well, it's not really a hat - it's more of a bonnet. I'm not wearing it any more because earlier on, the craziest thing happened - I realised there was a bee trapped inside my bonnet. I know.....terrifying. So anyway, I desperately had to find out what the first song was that Robbie Williams sang at his Cape Town concert. I went through all the songs on my iPod (30 gigs, black - the new one.) and I couldn't quite place which song it was that he sang first. I began by doing a little google search but, although the son of a famous rock pianist, I couldn't remember what the words were for the list of song's that an artist sings at a live gig. Embarrassed, I sent an sms to G-Man. He confirmed that the words I needed were "Set List". Yeeees, of course, I said to myself.
I pumped google with the search terms it needed and I was told that the first song Robbo sang was "Radio". I searched my iPod. Well blow me backwards, I didn't have the song at all! I went straight to my iTunes to buy the song. Although you cannot buy songs over iTunes with a South African credit card, I have developed a system. I call it "Mother Dearest". I registered my Mother's Australian credit card to my iTunes. So she pays for the music for me. I know, genius! Notice how I have overcome two obstacles here. Firstly, I am not blocked from downloading songs - I simply tell iTunes I am in Australia and, secondly, I don't even have to pay for the songs! (Love you, mum).
I hope you enjoyed Seth's sensitive side back there with the comment to mum. I'm a real person, guys, with feelings. And asthma.
[Completely coincidentally, we pause for an incoming call from Mother Dearest. Shame, she is phoning from on board the cruise ship in Monaco shared with the likes of Nigel Mansell and Murray Walker. Apparently there is a formula one car placed above the pool on the 10th deck. Marble bathrooms, personalised stationary in the suite etc. Hmm, so that's what they're up to.]
Mental note - Monaco Grand Prix on Sunday.
So anyway I download the song "Radio" from iTunes - DYING to be reminded of which song it was. The reason I had this bee in my bonnet (these things often happen when I do exercises with my brain) is I remembered very clearly that I was absolutely fucking blown away when Robbie belted out that first song at his concert in Cape Town. I remember asking fellow audience members if anyone knew Robbo's age. 32 was what I was told. I replied that I "still have time". The guy next to me laughed. Yeah, pal, we'll see who's laughing when Seth goes live at Green Point - I'll send you front row seat tickets and at the concert I will shine a spotlight on you and sing a song about when you didn't save someone from drowning, even though you could have. Then we'll see who is laughing.
Master Williams
Back to the story, I downloaded the song.
[And now we pause for something completely different: Quick fact - it is fucking cool to moan and groan about the Huey helicopter if you live on the Atlantic Seaboard, particularly Camps Bay and Clifton. "Christ! That FUCKING huey!" (Don't be shy to actually step outside and glare up at the helicopter, shooing it away with your arms as you tell it to "PUSH OFF!"]
Sorry about that. So I downloaded the song...... Well, SUCK ME SIDEWAYS! It all started to come back to me. I must admit, I was impressed. I haven't been impressed with someone since the early 90's. It is such a top song - particularly live - particularly as an opening song. Have another little listen to it. The song also happens to be on the Robbie Williams CD on 2oceansvibe - CLICK HERE FOR THAT
Right, moving on....
"It's amazing how the temperature suddenly drops at night!"
Yes, the weather really is turning!"
"I know! blah blah blah...."
Seriously though, I am currently freezing. I simply HAVE to get a heater at home. Angels, could we organise that please? Does nobody love Seth anymore? Please come into my office so we can discuss whether to get an oil heater or something else. Whatever uses up more electricity is what we'll get. I'm not playing into Eskom's hands. Fuck 'em. And while we're at it, please also get a hot water bottle. I think as an only child I am entitled to one. It's also good for sleep-overs.
Ok, I think this article is good to go. Let's wrap it up.
It's true that I frequent Caprice in Camps Bay more than the average person. Circumstances have allowed Caprice to be the nearest cocktail bar / restaurant to my place of residence. You see, God has blessed me - and I will shamelessly punt Caprice until I can punt no more. This is not the first time, nor is it the last time.
Cappers
I must make mention of the fact that I am in a semi emotional mood at the moment as I have set the iPod to play Bilitis by Francis Lai. If you don't know it, it is QUITE moving. My folks played it since before I could walk.
I'm back on the scotch now. Ok. Caprice.
I'll start by saying that many people don't know that Caprice is not all about Sunday nights. Granted, Sunday nights is, was and always will be their signature night - but don't knock a breakfast, lunch or early evening drink any time of the week. It's not all about the mad party - Caprice is also tailor made for chilling out. Caprice is perfect for every mood. Great for Saturday morning breakfasts. If you're hungover or not in the mood, they understand. You can't be in your underwear on the bar counter every night of the week. If you want attention, they give it and they understand your insecurities. They are like you. They understand you. In fact, I'll tell you what.... Fuck Spur, Caprice has a taste for life.
And last night was no exception. Caprice owner, David Raad, deserves a gold medal. Not only is Dave an accomplished closet break dancer (previous article mentioning his skillz can be found here), but also a true embodiment of service. So last night was a Camel party at Cappers. Wow! I'll say one thing, the angels came out VERY nicely last night. A VERY naughty mid-week party! I see the two blondes who seem to be joined at the hip were there again - the last of the Mohican's - waiting for their ride to come through town. Don't worry girls, he'll come. All over your face, in the back of his laundered Lambo.
More scotch.
So last night was a haven of excitement. All the guests were given "dollars". Each one equated to 10 South African Rands. Because I felt I was far too important to stop at the front door to sign in, I did not receive my dollars. I sent a sms to Dave who appeared next to me at the bar, stuffing dollars into my jeans and introducing five blondes to me whilst the bar lady had already begun pouring ten tequila's in front of us - all at the same time. Dave told the girls they should thank me. For what? God only knows. The point is Dave is a fucking legend and he runs a good show. Blues restaurant could learn a thing or two from one of Dave's farts. Caprice is the institution Blues was in the 80's.
Even more brilliant was a facility for the partygoers (first time I've ever used that word 'partygoers' - feels weird) to go up and have their picture taken. There was basically a full on developing service on the premises and each photographed patron would get an A4 print of themselves on the cover of a magazine! But the mind blowing thing was not that. No, no. What really struck me was the name of the magazine was '2oceansvibe'.
Nothing short of hilarious.
So that's what this article is all about, really. Cappers. Ignore the idiots. Enjoy yourself. Look around, you're in a good place. The staff are hysterical. Someone for everyone. The moaners, the groaners, the happy-go-luckies, the hungovers, the perky, the smiley, the sad, the positive, the negative, the bitch, the model, the cow, the youngster, the hippie - they have them all, and we love them all.
We are very pleased to announce that Playboy are very pleased to announce this year's Playboy Playmate of the year - The little angel, Kara Monaco.
She is a fine specimen and I am sure Hugh Hefner gave her a bloody good hiding. I very much doubt that there has ever been a playmate of the year who hasn't at the VERY least played with Hef's main chap.
Well done, Kara. You are very naughty.
And so, of course, we have put together a little collage of the little minx. I think it would be fair to say that these pics, although tasteful, are completely NOT suitable for work. Reason being they show not only her breasts, but also her vagina. As far as we know, breasts and vaginas are a complete no-no at Di-data and Old Mutual.
This 'piece' was published in April 2005 and, due to popular demand, we have decided to re-publish it, today!
Before I left for overseas (some of you were asking if I have returned. Yes, I have) I had quite a big night out at Eclipse in Camps Bay. The highlight was walking up to an attractive young lady at the bar and, with my hand outstretched for a hand-shake, asked her her name.
"Why do you want to know", she asked, looking at my hand like there was a fresh stool of Yorkshire Terrier's poo in it.
The discussion of Cape Town's chicks (yes, ok.... LADIES) came up quite a bit with friends of mine in the Northern Hemisphere and they agreed that things are coming to a head. Now I am obviously not referring to all the Cape Town girls, as we know there are some absolute angels out there. But there seems to be a problem (which is rapidly spreading) with a large number of them. The unfriendly attitude is becoming renowned and I am plagued with emails and commentary from all over the world asking what, in fact, the problem is with the Cape Town girls. Is it because of the influx of money and international stars to Cape Town that is confusing them? We do notice how drawn they are to Ferrari renting coke snorters and how easily it is for them to whore themselves to the likes of Jared Leto. Is it because of the influx of international models that perhaps cause them to try to out-do one another? It really is quite interesting.
More and more of the guys I know are opting to find their match on foreign shores - where there isn't this ....this.........what could only be described as 'wierdness'. Local girls in their mid to late twenties wonder why the eligible guys in their late twenties are doing talking to 18-23 year olds. It's quite simple, my angels....... they haven't been poisoned yet. But you have to be quick, guys, it can happen anytime between 18 and 23. Suddenly...BANG..... they've lost their minds and are trying to get into the pants of the Russian mafia boss who orders the most champagne and can't speak a word of English. We have seen far too many sweet angels turn into these monsters that we seem to find ourselves surrounded by. Some of us have had a closer look than others. No offense to those affected, but this argument is backed up by South Africa having one of the highest divorce rates in the World. I'd love to know what percentage per whatever is contributed by Cape Town. Let me ask you this. What is the rate of divorce for second marraiges? I have no idea what it is but I'm pretty fucking sure it's very low. Why is this? It is because we have all realised that we were looking for the wrong thing and what we really want is someone to talk to, someone to laugh with and someone to watch a DVD with next to the fireplace........ followed by some hot porn star sex over the back of the sofa.
As I said earlier, it is not ALL the ladies out there, but there is a LARGE amount ruining it for everyone. You're ruining it for the yourselves, the girls, the guys - and Cape Town. Stop counting the free vodka red bulls, little angels, and come down to earth. Your vagina is not a currency.
Good morning, friends! Sorry I missed you yesterday - I was coming out of the arse end of the weekend. So much to tell.
I don't have a specific topic to wow you with, but rather different random thoughts.
I'll start with the movie The Da Vinci Code. One word...... rubbish. It's complete rubbish. I've been in discussions about this with friends and, not only are we disappointed with the movie, but we are also angry. We're angry with Hollywood for treating us like a bunch of idiots. They took something that the world was currently interested in and they farted it onto a screen in front of us. The script and dialogue was so drab I actually found myself laughing through most of the movie. Don't watch it. They don't deserve your money. Rather watch Shopgirl or Prime.
I'm not sure if I mentioned it before, but Harrison Ford's new movie, Firewall, is EASILY the worst movie I have ever encountered in my life. Give it a wide birth and shoot Ford in the face if you run into him.
Lunch at Harbour House in Kalk Bay on Sunday was a total and utter dog show. I won't get into it, but we had a table of 15 and the waiter didn't know if he was having a shit or a haircut. Food took an hour and a half to come.
A quick question for Koeberg power station : Don't you find it embarrassing that we are the only province in the WORLD who are acutely aware of what "unit" is currently running at their respective power station? It's amazing! 80% of the Western Cape are well aware that Koeberg's 'unit 2' is shutting down and 'unit 1' will be on full power - hilarious! Should we even know that power stations have 'unit's'?
Regarding the BBC cab driver story, people are writing in telling me that it wasn't a cab driver and that it was, in fact, a guy who came in for an interview. If you look below the video clip, you will see a comment from me stating that it actually doesn't make a difference! THE GUY WAS THERE BY MISTAKE - THAT IS THE CRUX OF THE JOKE. Oh my God, now we find out he was a window washer at the BBC !!! Arrrrgh! The story is ruined!!! God.....give me a break.
I forgot to show you this very interesting pic of a statue of Britney Spears giving birth to her first child, Sean Preston. The artist, Daniel Edwards, has called it a "monument to pro life". I don't think the details are that important. I think we all have a dirty desire to see the back of the statue. Click the pic below to see the back angle - hilarious.
Hi there, Britters. How are we?
While we're at it, here's a statue someone else did of Kate Moss
Awesome
Ok, moving forth - someone sent in this pic of Seth Rotherham at the 24 hour Woolworths (a gift from God) at the Gardens Engen garage. The pic was taken on Friday night and the sharp shooter claims I was with the "13 year old". He went on to ask what I have gotten myself into. I'll begin by saying I was merely standing next to the girl and have never met her in my life. Secondly, I'll think you'll find she was nearer to 17 - which should never be a problem. Thirdly, and most importantly, I'd say in this case the age is not the problem - we should focus more on the little one's APPALING fashion sense and her apparent addiction to Nik Naks and Kit Kats.
I went to Cokey Falkow's new show last night at 'On Broadway'. It will be running for a while and I highly recommend it. Any comedian that gets an audible laugh from me deserves the highest praise. Cokey is in a league of his own.
Let's wrap it up now. Loads more to come this week. I know you're getting cold as winter approaches. I wish I could hold you all in my arms and cuddle you and make you soup and tickle you and make you hot water bottles and photograph you as you sleep and make a collage.
Probably set for fame - as they do in England [permalink]
Pretty hysterical, this is.
The BBC were about to interview Guy Kewney, editor of Newswireless.net, a specialist internet publication. They wanted to discuss the court case involving Apple Computer and The Beatles' record label. A floor manager had run to reception and grabbed the man, but instead of Guy Keyney, they grabbed a mini cab driver who was waiting to drive Mr Keyney home.
The rest, is history. I predict this guy will have a number one selling pop song in the UK by the end of the year.
UPDATE: People have been writing in frantically, saying the guy was actually at the BBC for an interview and he wasn't a cab driver. I think we're not keeping our eye on the ball here, guys - either way it's effing hilarious.
A friend of mine, Richard Neville, slept over at the Safe House last night and left this morning. I thought it might be interesting for you to see how an apparently 'distinguished' 29 year old businessman leaves his bed in the morning, after spending the night at a friend's house.
Unbelievable!
I know, sis!
But who do you blame? He was a school prefect, head of house and even captained UCT first XV rugby side. Who ever knew that this 'leader' possessed such dark habits?
Do you blame the parents? Or do you blame the school?
I can't believe it has reached a point where I am writing about these imbeciles. For those of you abroad (or a man), or locals who live inside vacuums, there is a strike going on at the moment. That is correct. Security guards all over the show are striking for a pay rise. It's going quite well. They have an interesting technique when striking. They rampage through the city tearing up anything in their path. They loot stores. They even kill people. I hope everyone enjoyed the pic of Oscar Caluag (77) on today's Cape Times front page. A tourist from the Philippines, it says that he was thrown through a glass door and his cellphone was stolen. He goes home today.
"How was your trip, Oscar?"
"Awesome!"
"And how was Cape Town? What are the people like? Is it true that they're unfriendly?"
"Not at all! I found them DELIGHTFUL"
So these geniuses are looting stores and causing havoc and have been doing so for quite some time (about six weeks). In fact they have been doing it so long that the money they have lost because of their strike action is MORE than what they would earn if they got the raise they want. In fact, it works out that it would take them about five years to pay back what they've lost.
"Ja, but it's the principle"
"No, I don't think principles should come into effect when you're on the minimum wage and you buy bread in half loaves. You should rather apply logic and go back to work and feed your fucking family, you fucking idiot".
And now, a video for you of the rampage through the city of Cape Town.
It is quite astounding how well behaved you all are. We asked you to vote for Goldfish on the 5FM 'Live at Five' competition (article here) and look what you went and did! - you sent Goldfish to the NUMBER 1 POSITION. Very very naughty! Congratulations to Goldfish on beating all the competition and congratulations to our readers for keeping in the spirit of 2oceansvibe.
On that note Goldfish has embarked on a national tour starting tomorrow. They have also relaunched their THURSDAYS AT BARAZA live gigs - hating that!
Here are the tour dates:
17 May
DIE MYSTIC BOER (Wow! - Seth)
Stellenbosch
10pm
R10
info 0218868870
19 May
Steer Clear Event
(in support of SADD – South Africans against drunk driving)
Featuring Goldfish, 7th Son and Rory Elliot (Plush)
Rhodes House
9pm
R30
25 May
BARAZA, Camps bay
The return of Goldfish Thursdays
free entry
limited space
info 0214381758
26 May
SOCIETY
Morningside, Durban
10pm
R40
info 0313123213
27 May
88, Norwood , Johannesburg
10pm
R50
with Shaun Duvet
info 0117288417
1 June
BARAZA, Camps bay
Goldfish Thursdays continue
Free entry limited space info 0214381758
2 June
Gondwana Café
Port Elizabeth
9pm
Free Entry
info 041 585 0990
Blues restaurant in Camps Bay is completely and utterly diabolical [permalink]
Sunday was a fun day. Sunday was also Mother's Day. With my parents living abroad there is a distinct lack of friends on these family related days. I did the usual and called up a few bastard child friends who also have parents living far away. G-man accepted the invite and we headed off to Blues restaurant. We were meant to go to Primi Piatti in Camps Bay but decided to treat ourselves. Like the moment Eve met the snake....that, right there, was our big mistake.
Having been a waiter at Blues for nearly two years in the late 90's, the first thing that surprised me was the fact that we managed to get a table on the balcony.......on Mother's Day......at lunch time..... without booking.
Sitting down on my chair was awesome. My arse was in with troduced to a puddle that had formed on the chair from the previous evening's rain. Jerk-Off, the host, apologised and got me another chair but that didn't change the fact that my arse was now saturated. In fact.......hold on a sec.......yup....it's still wet.
I just want to stop there and say one thing. There is nothing that annoys me more than people jumping on the "Blues is shit" bandwagon. I have always maintained that they (the critics) obviously went at a bad time. So I think it is important to be aware of that before you read another rant about Blues Restaurant.
Thanks for letting me say that. I feel better now.
I see some others have arrived to listen to my story. Come in, come in.....gather round people.
Our waiter had the charisma of a starfish and looked like he could have very easily spent the previous night sleeping inside a barrel of cocaine. I watched to see what new tricks the staff had been taught, but everything seemed pretty standard. Even the line fish was the same as it was eight years ago. I would tell you what it was, but do you really care?
Fart-face left us to look over the menu. Wow! I've been in soup kitchens with a better range. The R450 price tag for the crayfish was nothing short of hilarious. I chortled and decided on 12 oysters to start and lamb shank for my main.
G-man and I chatted for a bit as the starfish set the table. I was drooling for my oysters - and then................. they arrived.
OH
MY
GOOD
LORD
NOTHING on this earth could have prepared me for what was placed before me. My hands are visibly shaking as I type this. I am not even sure if it can be put into words.
BEFORE I attempt to do that I just want to say (for our non oyster eaters out there) that it is a general universally accepted understanding between humans that oysters are served in their shells on a bed of ice. It's just standard stuff. There is no need to bugger around. It's terribly simple. Open the oysters, make sure they're fresh, put them on ice and serve them. The idea behind this is to keep them cold and to go through the motions of adding tabasco, pepper, lemon...... tearing the oyster out of the shell, eating it and drinking the liquid that is left behind. It's a process. A fun process. Probably 50% of the enjoyment of eating oysters.
I can see some of you nodding. Glad you're still with me.
Now I want you to read this slowly, because you need to fully grasp what I am saying. Slowly and carefully.
THE OYSTERS WERE SERVED OUT OF THEIR SHELLS AT ROOM TEMPERATURE, WITH EACH ONE SEPERATELY PRESENTED ON WHAT APPEARED TO BE THE STALK OF A LETTUCE-LEAF. ALL SERVED ON A PLATE, WITH NO ICE.
[I think we need a moment to reflect and to read that over again]
The first thing that I wanted to say was "Are you fucking mad to not mention that your oysters are served COMPLETELY unconventionally?" And PLEASE don't tell me that the menu describes this serving technique. I am very sure (I hope to God) that this debauched cleverness is described on the menu but I think it would be fair to have, at the very least, a flashing light bulb built into the menu next to the oyster description. If you're telling me that no-one has been mind blown to the point of sending back the oysters then I'll tell you that you're lying. It actually verges on being humorous. It's like they're TRYING to make it revolting. If you thought oysters looked like nasal excrement before, you simply HAVE to see them served like this.
"Sorry, my roast chicken tastes like shit"
"Yes Sir, as it says on the menu, all of our poultry is served with a smattering of poo"
"Yes....but.... come now.......you should have probably checked that I read the fine print and was aware of the unconventional poo extravaganza."
Point?
It doesn't get easier
By the way, the classic seafood platter for two is now called the "Seafood Extravaganza". Whaagh !!! Hilarious. That is R720 for a crayfish tail, a few langoustines, some prawns, line fish and calamari. I am not sure if this comes with poo.
Now I need you to bear in mind that NONE of the juice applied to the oysters is collected anywhere. All liquid applied to the oysters simply falls straight off the lettuce leaf and on to the room-temperature plate.
There was also a receptacle of sorts in the middle of the plate holding some sort of shallot sauce/vinegar. There was a lemon wedge LYING INSIDE the shallot vinegar - drenched.... like my bum. God only knows how this liquid is meant to be applied to the oysters as the receptacle had no pouring spout. So I had to pour it straight out, messily, over the oysters, down the lettuce leaf, onto the plate.
Needless to say I couldn't eat more than four. They tasted absolutely revolting and I am STILL experiencing the after taste when I burp. Quite simply, they were the worst oysters that I have ever eaten in my life.
So that was par for the course......obviously the lamb shank was appalling. We had two bites, asked for the bill and ran out - taking note of the fact that the restaurant's actual soul was completely dead. Funerals have a better vibe.
It's a pity that the Blues of old is gone. Where did it go wrong? Oh give me the days when people used to arrive for lunch and stay for dinner. When the staff had character. When the air had an element of excitement. When movie stars used to struggle to get a table. It really makes me sad because I used to ADORE Blues. As a spoilt child who took to oysters before he could talk, all I ever wanted to do was to be grown up and to be able to come to Blues with my friends and experience extravagant long extended lunches. I can't do that now and it makes me sad.
Blues is going through the dying swan days. We've seen it before....when you hear about a restaurant that gets bought and sold every year - passed around like a red headed step-child.
And then.... BANG...it's gone.
I hope it doesn't happen. Really I do. I think deep down inside, every Capetonian wants Blues to be amazing again. But for some reason, Blues just doesn't seem to want to meet us half way. What a pity.
Goodbye Blues.
[lights dim and music fades into Sinatra's "My Way"]
Sung to the tune of AC/DC's 'Thunderstruck' [permalink]
Our boys at Rock Star have decided to take it to the next level and have organised one of the bigger parties at Cape Town's newest nightclub, "Chrome". Friday night, May 12.
Oh, ok, "Chrome", like the shiny metal.
Seriously though, this looks like the big one. It was difficult to get a full idea of exactly what to expect from the party. A call to Rock Star headquarters provided us with a good idea. The representative on the other side of the line was hyperventilating with excitement. He was struggling to get the words out. I remember something about a new band. Something about a 'sick' electronic flavour that's going to be playing. He went on to say that something was 'fresh out of the oven'. I stopped him there because his excitement told enough of a story. From that, I can tell you it is going to be quite an event. I'll be there. Many others will. I've been told the angel count is sky high.
General Admission is R50 pre-sold.
R60 at the door from 10pm
VIP R70 (includes private lounge, exclusive full bar and private waitresses)
For more info, tickets & group bookings, contact Nick on 082 468 3508
or email on nick@rockstarfund.co.za
Like George Foreman, he just won't stay down [permalink]
And so the saga continues. What next for Zuma? What new challenges (albeit in the courts) are waiting for him? Now that he has been found not guilty of rape he will more than likely continue his bid for presidency which will be nothing short of nauseating.
I am not going to comment on the verdict, but will rather say that the woman he "didn't" rape is a fucking moron. I'll tell you what the ultimate fuck up was on her side. It was when she uttered these words (or similar):
"Ja, look, the one time I got raped but don't recall it actually happening and therefore don't know who it was. "
[eh?]
Amazing! Furthermore, just to add vinegar to the paper-cut wound, she went on to say, "But I had an abortion and my mother saw the 4 month old foetus and said it resembled my boarding house master".
[whoah]
Aaah. Good one, whoever you are. You just completely blew it. That was the moment everyone looked at each other with the expression that says, "This chick is off her fucking head". They should have stopped the trial right then. I'm going to stop now. I'm over Zuma.
Please get a load of this brand spanking new footage of the evil one getting jiggy. I can't write anything else about it because the grin on my face has blocked the view of my keyboard. Enjoy this video clip - you deserve it. It's your Friday treat...
Well we're as pleased as punch! After a full month since the last TBG (Tall Blonde Guy) sighting, the great man has reappeared - looking better than ever I might add! Andre V sent this in :
The TBG - clearly enjoying a return to the public eye after his break.
Last Friday night I was at a wedding in Hout Bay. Lucky for me, the TBG was one of the guests!
After careful planning, I managed to grab a photo with my phone of the TBG, on his way to the bathroom. He was visibly glowing.
Once the dance floor opened, I was able to get previously un-documented insight into the TBG's musical taste... it seems to be 80's.
This may be give an indication of his age...
I tried to video some of his dance moves, but I didn't want him to notice, I have no idea how he might react when angry, it wasn't worth it.
Cheers, Andre
Well, God has blessed you, Andre. You have now joined the ranks of the enlightened. And well done on managing to refrain from filming him on the dance floor. We don't know how he might react when angry and it's not worth it. Why would you want to spoil such a wonderful evening in his presence anyway?
I stand to be corrected, but I cannot recall ever seeing the TBG so elated. This is arguably one of the best sightings of the TBG we have ever seen!
As we gather more information about the enigma (including his age - we're putting him at around 29), we reckon he is able to cope with his adoring public, as long as he is allowed to rest. Well, the legend has rested and he has returned!
We missed you, TBG. Please don't ever leave us. Our lives will be nought without you.
I've had a good run lately with movies and, because I love you so much, I want to tell you about them. After all, if you can't trust Seth Rotherham's views on things, who can you trust? Exactly! Whilst your friends are turning on you like Alsatians, 2oceansvibe still remains a symbol of everything that is true and pure.
Before I do that I must tell you what has just started playing on the Bose iPod speaker. It's 'Wicked Game', by Chris Isaak (give me a break, the iPod is on 'shuffle'). This reminds me of when I used to spend a lot of time as a child at Roger Moore's house (my mother and Roger grew up together and remain friends) - he used to play Chris Isaak all the time. A lot of people don't quite know what to think of Chris Isaak. His music throws out all sorts of stigmas about the person that is playing it. I have just made a mental note to use it in my car. When I say 'use' it, I mean to 'experiment' with it. Experimenting with creating stigmas.
When in full prick mode, I play a chosen song at a particular level so that people outside the car can JUST hear the music. I like to watch the response. It is important to make it seem like you were unaware that other people can hear it. It needs to be at a volume level that is not too loud for inside the car, and not too loud from outside. And then, out of the corner of your eye, you should take note of the response. Make them look at the prick.
"Christ, look at that prick playing Chris Isaak", they think to themselves.
But then they think further and realise that the music was too soft for you to be doing it on purpose. I mean, you clearly weren't TRYING to make people hear. Because if you were, you would be playing it louder than that. And anyway, who wants everyone to know that they're playing Chris Isaak? It is at this point that they forgive you and start thinking that you are very relaxed with who you are and that you are, in fact, totally oblivious to everyone else. They search in their little heads for the word they're looking for to describe you. And then they realise, you're "cool". They are now at the stage where they think more about the actual song that you were playing and use it to try and figure out more about you. That's right, Chris Isaak. This guy is deep. He's a thinker. That is what they're thinking about you. They also realise that they just LOVE the sunglasses you were wearing. Meantime, you're actually a prick.
Basically, you've killed it.
So not only are you fucking cool, but you're also a deep thinking type. Then, when you meet them (as you invariably do in this town), you are awesome! Be excited to meet them. Be interested. Smile. Agree with them. Remember their name and say goodbye when you leave. This kind nature, combined with the vision of you in your car, can tend to be overwhelming for some of them. Don't let them know that you are aware of how excited they are to be talking to you. Some of them might wet themselves. Pretend not to notice. Introduce them to other people as your "very good friend".
You have just created a "Defender of the Faith". The Defenders of the Faith are like a roving PR team.
Then, the next time they're in the company of someone who is carrying on about what a prick you are (as you invariably do in this town), they will mention the fact that they had met you recently and "thoroughly" enjoyed chatting to you. This silences the other person (the Detractor of the Faith) and they will not speak ill of you again. So you've gained a Defender and you've silenced a Detractor. That's two points. The spin off's of having the new Defender, as well as a silenced Detractor is exponential. You now have another Defender on the streets, preaching the good word, and you also have one less person speaking ill of you. Over a one year period, you're looking at CONSERVATIVELY 50 less people viewing you in a bad light or being exposed to anti-you propaganda.
A few irregularities at Nu Metro V&A Waterfront cineplex has prompted this video which has also been forwarded to all major news organisations. We will not play your game anymore, Nu Metro.
Pavlov's dogs learnt faster than this guy [permalink]
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Kate Moss' ex boyfriend, Babyshambles frontman, Pete Doherty, is in the dwang again. He has been let off so many times for drug use and possession, the last of which was less than two weeks ago (just under a 'fortnight', some might say). But now he has gone and ballsed it up again - chronically.
You will remember that the UK tabloid, The Daily Mirror, exposed Kate Moss shnarfing on video a couple of months ago. Well, as part of the ongoing tabloid war (which finds the various publication in a constant hunt for the most outrageous sensational story), The Sun newspaper has gone to the same level, this time with a stunning photo of Pete Doherty injecting a passed-out fan of his on his kitchen floor. I think it's fair to say that he is not injecting antibiotics because of an illness, but more than likely an illegal substance of sorts. I'll take a shot in the dark and say that it is probably heroin. Heroin is illegal. Pete has done a very bad thing.
That's bad, Pete.
Naturally the police arrested him on Saturday for questioning.
I will remind you that this is the guy who Elton John said was one of the world's most talented musicians today.
A lavish affair which needs your support [permalink]
While 2oceansvibe is certainly not a breeding ground for charity sponsorship, we do come forward now and then to ask for your support for something that we decide has a 2oceansvibe element and goes towards a worthy cause. The last one was quite some time ago and we were very impressed with the contribution by the 2oceansvibe readers.
Now, allow me to tell you a little story. As most of you know, I go on the annual 'Strengthening Ties Tour' to London and New York in July. You might remember that last year, and everytime I go to London, my affairs are taken care of by Harry - often referred to has the "H-man" in my articles. Harry's list of tasks during my London stay includes the Merc S-class pickup at the airport, a car and driver during my stay, as well as restaurant bookings and guest lists and tables at the likes of Bouji's nightclub. He also manages to maintain a continuous entourage of angels around us at all times.
Harry got in touch with me recently to tell me about quite a big event in London. It is a fundraising boxing event featuring various London socialite's and royals called The Boodles Boxing Ball. Held at the lavish Royal Lancaster Hotel in London, contestants even include female Royals! Here is one of the articles featured in various UK papers.
Now keep focused. Our boy is referred to as "Harry 'Hit Man Hazza' Simpson" and he is fighting against Steve Wood - club promoter extraordinaire. You need to appreciate that Harry is about 6 foot 7 and weighs WELL into the triple figures. That said, he is by no means a brawler of any sort. Harry has been training like a mad man over the last few months and will certainly get a bit of a pounding from the more agile Mr. Wood.
Let me introduce you to the H-man.
Harry in his preferred environment
On board the Sunseeker Predator pleasure craft.
Come June 3, Harry will be swapping his Gucci loafers for a pair of boxing gloves, all in the name of charity. Harry is a big giver and I have told him I would ask the 2oceansvibe readers to join him in a drive for donations to the "SOS Children's Charity". Harry has trained for months and will endure a pounding in return for us giving a little.
Here is a bit of background on the charity:
SOS Children’s Villages is a Worldwide registered charity that looks after over 50,000 orphans in total and have seven (soon to be eight) Villages in South Africa. Their vision is that every child in their care should belong to a family group and grow up with love, respect and security. Their mission is to build families for children in need and help them shape their own futures and share in the development of communities.
The Villages in Epping and Durbanville consist of several bungalows, each being home to about 10 orphans. They are looked after by a House mother who has been fully trained and the orphans look on her as Mother and the other children in the bungalow as their brothers and sisters. One House Mother was especially proud the day we met her as one of her orphans who she had looked after since the age of five had just qualified from the University of Cape Town with a Bachelor of Economics degree!
The village includes a dental clinis which adds to the ongoing expenses needed to keep these clinics going. So that is where we are, team. And that is what we need YOUR help with. We don't ask you to come forward very often and trust that, in the 2oceansvibe spirit, you will give generously. Here are the bank accounts in South Africa and the UK.
SOUTH AFRICA "Harry Simpson Boxing Charities"
First National Bank
Bank Code 204009 Account number 6210438176 SWIFT code: FIRNZAJJ
UNITED KINGDOM UK "Harry AD Simpson"
Barclays Bank South Kensington
Sort code 20 80 14
Account number 601716030
Please use the reference "BOXING CHARITY" when donating money. Thanks a million, team, something good will happen to you once you've done that. Trust me.
There aren't too many people who can say that they 'can't stand' Jack Nicholson. I can only imagine they would be saying it because the man is so loved. They're saying it to be difficult. They're saying it because they're jealous. They will clearly have a problem with the man's coolness. They'll have a problem with the confident slow drawl he has when he talks. They'll have a problem with his hysterical, evil, mischievous smile. They'll have a problem with the fact that he goes out with supermodels half his age. But most of all, they'll probably be pissed off because he wears his sunglasses all the time - indoors, outdoors, day and night (except, ironically, on the cover of his biography!). Don't be angry with Jack for wearing shades the whole time, he has his reasons.
A friend of mine, Graham John Murray, told me a first hand story about Jack Nicholson from a friend of his in London. Precise details aside, the friend was working in a bar and Jack Nicholson was having a drink at the other end of the room. The barman found a moment to approach Jack and introduced himself, explaining that he was a big fan. Jack obligingly smiled and shook his hand.
Before leaving the cheshire cat's table, the barman said to him, "Excuse me Mr Nicholson, I don't mean to be rude, but I simply have to ask.....why do you always have your sunglasses on"?
To which Jack Nicholson replied (in a near identical tone to his "Here's Johnny" line from the movie 'The Shining'), he loudly replied:
"BECAUSE I'M A MOVIE STAR!"
Absolutely fucking hilarious! Stories like that were enough for me to buy the release of his biography entitled 'Wild'. If you're into biographies at all or if you're even remotely intrigued by Jack Nicholson, do yourself a favour and get this book.
In the first six pages I learnt that he was raised thinking his mother was his sister and his grandmother was his mother. He only found out when he was 32! That's pretty radical!
Having never met or known his father, Nicholson got a call in the mid 90's from a guy who claimed that he shagged Nicholson's mother about nine months before Nicholson was born (on the side of the road, no less) and that he was therefore his father. Jack thanked him for the call and informed the guy that it was too late for him to form any bond or friendship and he wouldn't be taking the relationship any further. Before ending the call and continuing with their separate lives, Nicholson felt it necessary to check that his father was alright - in that he could help him out should he "need anything" (assuming financial aid was probably the reason for the call), to which the father replied....... wait for it:
"No, I'm your father, you call me if you need anything"
Whaaaah! How hysterical is that! The guy must have been his father to come up with a pearler like that!
Anyway, that's enough. I've made it easy for you and put links below to buy the book in South Africa, the UK and USA. Enjoy.
One of the funnier things you will see [permalink]
It's sad and it's funny - but it's mostly funny, in a nice way. Most of you won't understand what is being said as the video is in a foreign dialect, but let me fill you in before you watch this video. It is a chat show where a man is being interviewed about the fact that his testicles were removed by mistake during a medical operation. Obviously the theme of the show would be something to do with "How could this happen?". Unfortunately our boy who lost his balletjies is now sporting a particularly high-pitched voice. The interviewer starts off the interview with a somber tone, but can't hold back his laughter at the guy's high-pitched voice. Try hold back the tears.
