Please enjoy what I have just deleted from my phone. Enjoy the fact that these names are(Well were) stored in my phone and came complete with only the first names and numbers of these girls.

And I have absolutely no idea who these people are, or where I met them:

Kelly Anne

Daniela

Jade C-B

Kirsten

Lara

Mel

Zara M(Enjoy that next to this name I wrote “Claremont Steers”)

Bianca

Jess

Camilla(Next to this name “Obz house party”)

This isn’t some lame attempt to show you how many girls numbers I get given when I go out to party. Rather it’s a sad display of the numbers I have in my phone but have no idea how or where I got them. Well I have deleted them now. And just so you know…there are also random guys names and numbers. Absolutely bizarre. Shocking.

Don’t worry girls, if your name was there, and I didn’t recognise you, just e-mail me your name and number, with a photo, to: [email protected]

The photo will bring memories flooding back, and I will be in contact.

Much love

Sean

xxx

No you silly Billy. Not the actual building.

OH. MY. GOD

Did I just say silly Billy?

Do excuse me but I am busy doing some party accessories in order to get into a meaningful vibe for the party tonight.

Ambling along nicely…

I receive many e-mails from readers. Some praise me and my wittyness. Some chicks just want to smash me. Some guys want to smash me. Chicks send photos of themselves, in the hope that I will be their knight in shining armour.

I get boxes of underwear sent my way (How do you know where I live?) but most of all I get intelligent letters because my readers are intelligent. And some interesting e-mails as well.

I received a mail from G-Boy today and he had been at the Cape Town Magistrates Court to look up a will at the Masters Office. Now obviousy when looking up something as important as this you expect a neat filing system to be in place, and you expect the documents to be well taken care of and preserved as they are of importance to various people that they involve.

You should be able to walk in there and easily find the documents pertaining to you, and it should be clean and well looked after. Please enjoy this photo of the room our reader was sent to:

Tidy 

Neat 

And no, that’s not a joke. That is for real! I thought it was a joke but G-Unit assured me it was not. He even copied me in on the e-mail that he sent to Aden at CapeTalk. I will be keeping a check on it as this is not quite how the City of Cape Town should be run. Some people put a lot of work into this city, and others not so much. If this is what our legal authorities think of our documents, isn’t it time for a new system?

Better yet, a new government?

Our boys are doing an absolute sterling job of stuffing things up lately. I will keep you updated on the progress of this case.

To be honest, when I saw that mess of books and papers on the floor it reminded me of a situation I found myself in at school. I was in standard 7 at Rondebosch and had decided that Biology was just not going to cut it that day, so myself and a couple of mates walked to a buddies house just near the school.

He had told us that he found this massive porn collection in his brothers room and we should check it out. It was a better Biology lesson than photosynthesis and osmosis or whatever we did that year.

Anyway, the collection was massive. So we are chilling there when we hear the front door open. Simon goes as white as snow, I suddenly lose all urges to maintain the magnificent boner that I had, and we literally froze into stone figures. Masses of porn lying on the floor. No one was supposed to be home.

Simons old man was a lawyer and had forgotten some documents at home.

He came home at our second break. This was unheard of.

He walked in on us surrounded by about 50 porn magazines. No jokes. Ok maybe like 30 magazines.

Anyway I was expecting to be bitch slapped across the room. His old man walks in:

“Did you guys finish early today?”

“Yeah. Um the teacher was sick so we just decided to come over here” Simon said sheepishly.

“Oh cool, I see you found boets porn collection”

Silence.

“Don’t worry guys, I know he has it, nothing you aren’t going to see in your lives. See you later Si, I’m going to be working a bit late today”

Silence.

Silence followed by me nearly pissing my pants. I have never encountered such a legendary dad in my entire life! Ahhh we had some good times.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

Apparently word on the street is that Bambu is the ticket for tonight. The party is called “The Mile High Club” and this is what they have to say:

Arrivals can expect Jet Set luxury courtesy of our Sexy Cabin Crew while First Class DJ’s provide excellent in-flight entertainment…

Experience the latest in air travel with our gorgeous air hostesses (Tours of the cockpit available on request) and our first class cabin where you can get your hair styled and make up done. Emergency exits will ensure you get-off in a timely fashion and for those who prefer the upright position: Don’t forget to fasten those seat belts…

Enjoy your flight and thank you for choosing Bambu Air.

Brought to you by NawtyMedia, Bambu and Schweppes(Ooooh Schweppes trying to get one up here)

Dress up to the aviation theme and stand in line to win great prizes.

Doors open at 10pm. Tickets R50 at Computicket and R60 at the door.

So that’s it. If you want to come right tonight, Bambu seems like the place it’s going to happen. Not a bad deal.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I was perusing, at my leisure, a copy of the British GQ magazine. As I have said before, GQ is the only mens magazine I buy. And the only magazine in general that I buy. You know…’cos I’m a gentleman.

Riiiiiight…

Anyway I was trying to flip through the hundreds of adverts to get to some editorial when I came across some of the most hideous men I have ever seen. I know some guys will say “Oh I can’t tell if a guy is good looking” Personally, I dig chicks, I love tits takka takka takka etc but I can tell if a guy is good looking or not.

These models in the English GQ are hot.

If they are advertising Horse & Hound magazine, Bob Martin dog products or the J&B Met.

Otherwise these guys are hond! Toilet! Siff! Swamp donkeys!

Please enjoy this beaut who is essentially promoting Polo as a brand.

Look I would hire him as a model for my brand.

If my brand were organic carrots, fire hydrants, or the Oros man. Enjoy:

Oros: Brand recognition

Next up we have someone who was definitely born and inbred in either:

“Hi Sean nice to meet you can I date your daughter?”

“Yeah sure, just after I get acupuncture on my cock”

Brackenfell

Parow

Fish Hoek

He would do well as the face of tik, crack or a brothel.

I mean, please enjoy the absolute stunningness of this man. I swear to mother Mary, if my daughter brought home a man like that I would go to war. I would disown her. My daughter will only date rich, good looking guys otherwise she can go pick potatoes on a Kibbutz.

It’s amazing that if you look at Cape Town model agancies, only the best looking, well built people are used. In the UK it looks as if these guys have been pulled out of rubbish dumps.

The wise ones of you out there will be saying

“Oh but they are looking for unique looking people”

Unique? That is about as unique as a wart on a donkeys cock!

There is a difference between “unique” and “inbred”

Actually I would use the guys for another range of products.

Toilet bowls.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

In a move that should prompt Schweppes to pack lube(Durex Play- Heat, Feel etc for extra sensation or plain old KY for old times sake), we have a new playa on the block.

This rogering up the backside of Schweppes comes courtesy of Chele.

That’s a diet Chele tonic and Tanqueray because I told the supermodel if she puts on even 500 grams, I will throw her out the apartment. I think 41 kilograms is plenty of women to handle thank you very much.

You see for many years my parents told me that they would only pour me a gin and tonic if the tonic was from Schweppes. They also refused to pour me a vodka and cola if it was anything but Coca Cola. And so I agreed with them, and they allowed me to drink as much as I liked, thinking that by feeding me booze at a young age I would grow out of it.

Well mom and dad, I never did. Check this wicked photo of me earlier this week. But my folks will be glad to know that I made it into the room this time. I used to pass out vomiting on myself in the bath. But my body has grown stronger and now my legs get me to the room. Not quite into the bed, but I’m working on that. Another four years and I should be fine. Enjoy my Hugh Hefner robe:

A God. Drinking amongst mere mortals.

So what I have been meaning to say is that Chele seems to be the choice these days in various Cape Town establishments. Except when it comes to cola, they still use Coke and Coke Light because nothing comes close to Coke. If Chele could get into the creme soda business they might just dominate Terrace in Stellenbosch (Enjoy a cane and creme soda there in a plastic cup) Sparletta would then find themselves bending forwards, jug of lube in hand, as they feel a large one being inserted courtesy of Chele Cream Soda.

I don’t know why the sudden change from brands, but I’m guessing price plays a big part. Especially in clubs where everyone is so rat arsed that they actually can’t taste the difference between a gin and tonic and a vodka and coke, and so there is no chance they will taste the difference between Chele and Schweppes.

I must say, Chele offer a damn good tasting selection, and I have chosen them as my brand of choice.

And there we have it, a swift brand change taking place in Cape Town. Cape Town loves changing though and one week it’s coffee, the next it’s sushi. One week it’s Fez, the next week it’s Bang Bang. Where did Rhodes House go? Ah the fickle Cape Town crowd!(Myself included)

I’m surprised Tiger Tiger is still going strong. I can just see myself arriving next week waiting for Jane to give my my customary handski before we go in and I leave her in pursuit of the 2 for 1 cane and cream soda special, and then I arrive next week and she has found a better club. That would disappoint me.

God have you been to Tiger Tiger on a Saturday? It’s insane. You basically go in there as a young guy and wait for the sugar mommies to latch onto you. They aren’t subtle either. They grab, bite, touch, unzip…ooooh can you feel that?
You WILL pull 28 year olds. I’m not joking. True story.

So there we have it, this weeks brand round up.

And if Schweppes don’t watch out, Chele are going to round up all their beverage varieties and give them a good old Texas Cowboy.

Or even a Trojan War Helmet.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

So we decided to head through to Stellenbosch the other day when we are absolutely rail sliding the Black Viper in and around the bends of the road. We were dominating the road, owning it. We did a slingshot maneuver(How do we spell this one?) out of one of the bends, literally ripping the tar up and owning this section of tarmac. I guarantee if we had chicks in the car, panties would have magically come off. No doubt, myself sitting in the passenger seat, I would have gotten a hand around. Truth.

I’m serious, the driving was sexual. Dropped it into second for the slingshot, slammed out the corner and got the Viper up to 180km/hr.

All fun and games until we saw a baby.

A damn baby!

Sitting in the middle of a main road.

Selling weed! You should have seen the look on this infants face as we hurtled towards him! Even more spectacular was the look on his face as we hit him. Then…my God…we turned the wiper blades on to get him off our window because we were now pushing 200km/hr with a baby on our windscreen and we had absolutely no vision. I wasn’t worried about the baby, but I was worried about our dirty windscreen.

Ok there was no baby but we were doing 180km/hr. The look in my buddies face was spectacular as he realised we were doing a moderate bit of speeding, and a cop could arrest us now. That’s what we do though, we run with scissors, because it makes us feel dangerous.

It then occurred to me that while some people complain about the price of petrol, food etc we were literally burning holes in the bank.

We were driving at R180 an hour. Unbelievable. Nearly two R100 notes every hour were getting ignited by our engine.

Because with the current price of petrol, we no longer drive in kilometres an hour. We drive in rands an hour.

Most cars will use about 10 litres of petrol per 100km. At about R10 a litre, this is about R1 per kilometre. Which is QUITE expensive!

For the same amount of speeding a few years ago, we would be doing R100 an hour.

It’s not ideal that petrol is going up another 71c though, we are going to have to cut to R160 an hour.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I found this really cool book the other day that I thought you might find interesting. I have always liked vintage things, from cars, to simpler things like old wooden flooring in houses and not the plastic fantastic that we find in todays houses. My favourite is obviously vintage denim, because it always tells a story.

Anyway I don’t smoke but have always had a mild fascination with Zippo lighters. There is something about them that makes me want to carry one around all day with me! Then I found these pictures of Zippos in a book called Vietnam Zippos: American Soldiers Engravings and Stories.

It’s a photo collection, including stories, of the Zippo lighters that American soldiers used at the height of the Vietnam conflict between 1965 and 1973.

Some of the engravings include:

“Give me head til I’m dead”

“Death is my business and business has been good”

“When I die bury me face down so the whole world can kiss my ass”

Simple photos of Zippo lighters have turned out to be some of the most powerful images I have ever seen. Just like at accident scenes, photograpahers will show photos of someones shoe lying in the road, and these photos carry the same power.They are pieces of lives gone by, war, conflict, hatred and bloodshed. Check out some of these photos. Awesome.

“Thoe I walk through the valley in the shadow of death I fear no evil for I am the meanist mother fucker in the valley”

“35 kills if you are recovering my body fuck you”

“I screwed you”

I think that is some really cool stuff right there, each Zippo telling a story. And the quality of the engraving is also quite something, considering these guys did all of that out in the field. Those Zippos must have seen some crazy stuff!

Buy the book over HERE

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I’m pretty alarmed at the fact that I seem to be getting left behind somewhat with writing. I mean, I take it easy for a few days and the next thing I know, Shaun Oakes is writing for Sports Leader. Obviously I’m a fairly keen sportsman as well, and not wanting to be left behind, I wrote a piece on golf to challenge the law set down by Shaun over HERE on Sports Leader. I just cannot be left behind, so I put on my drinking hat and smashed this piece out in a few minutes. Because I also want to be a Sports Leader! Here we go:

Golf is a bizarre sport. There aren’t many other sports where people practise but don’t compete. I have been going to the driving range for years but I have never hit a ball in anger on a golf course. How often do you practise scuba diving in the pool, but never scuba dive in the ocean? Never.

Many of my friends also go to the driving range but don’t actually play golf as it were. Golf on the course is shit. You lose balls(Both kinds depending on who is shanking the ball in the direction of your balls) Losing balls costs money and sends your blood pressure into orbit. You can’t answer your phone on the course unless you are a doctor who is being called on to deliver an infant in the Nandos on Rondebosch Main Road. I don’t understand why a normal person is not allowed to answer their phone on the course. For the love of God, who is going to hear you talking anyway? Bob’s pacemaker makes more noise.

I also think it’s pathetic that you are not allowed to purchase alcohol along the course. When you don’t have the alcohol to calm you down, you shank your brand new Titleist ball into the lake and then proceed to snap your Greatest Big Bertha on your sunburnt forehead. This costs about R5000. The solution to this almighty and costly problem? Sell booze on the course.

Another thing that sucks donkey dong is the fact that there are no targets to hit on the golf course. Apparently, rumour has it, you are supposed to aim the ball at the little hole with the flag sticking out of it. Where is the fun in that? I mean, the hole does not even move!

This is where the driving range is superior. Your target is a moving object that picks up balls. Occasionally a real live human steps out of the cart to manually pick up stray balls. This is the point where you get a big smile on your face, down your pint and begin pelting balls at your target. After you have hit him he will start swearing at you (Trust me, I know) He will then come running in your direction. This is your cue to head to the bar, sink another pint or two and wait for him to piss off. Then you start all over again. This is a foolproof way of having fun. It beats the shit out of the golf course for a number of reasons:

1) You don’t have to walk for miles and miles like an idiot.

2) You can drink. Alcohol.

3) You have a live target.

4) You don’t lose R300 worth of balls every fourth hole.

5) You can talk as loud as you like on your phone and you can swear like a trooper without being scolded by the old ponce playing near you.

6) You don’t have some old wank behind you telling you that you are holding up play.

7) There are no rules.

Now if you insist on playing on a real course I suggest some changes to the sport. I have conveniently written a mock letter that you may want to send to your club. If they agree with everything contained on the letter, your golf course will turn into an oasis of pleasure. Please invite me over for a round of golf and thirty rounds of the 19th hole of this does happen. Here is your letter:

Dear Club Manager

We all reach middle age and realise that the time has come for a makeover. Maybe a wardrobe makeover, a makeover on our hair or an entire body makeover. Golf is a sport that has been around for a very long time and it is getting old, grumpy and slow.

Just like some of the people who play it.

Golf moves at a deathly pace and you can guage this by the suicidal monotone voices of golf commentators. They speak as though they have had an elephant tranquiliser with their coffee that morning.

They talk about the weather, the history of the sport and sometimes they even talk of things we don’t even know about. They basically state the obvious and seem bored with their jobs. If the ball goes in the hole they say “Oh and that’s in the hole!” If it lands near the hole they say “He should be able to one putt it from there” If it lands in a bunker they say “He’s in a spot of bother there. Clearly they are bored because the sport is bored.

They even whisper to each other even though they are in a studio far from where the players are playing. It’s ridiculous! So what we need to do is put the “go” back in golf! It’s time to change the dreary image of the sport. Here are a couple of ideas to throw around:

We could start with the members of these courses. Their sense of humours clearly got lost during the great depression and they have no time for us young people. We are the future and without us they will have nothing.

NOTHING! THEY ARE RUBBLE WITHOUT US!

These old codgers should be grateful when we arrive because we are paying to play at these courses and by doing so we keep them running. Why do the members complain when I get to the 19th hole and sink ten draughts? Yes I do get a little rowdy from time to time, and I have pulled out my immense piece on the bar, but I have paid for those ten draughts and for that the club should be grateful. I am putting South African money into their accounts. Money that I drank hard for (I’m paid to drink for a living)

Another thing that needs to be changed is the warning call for when someone is about to be cleaned off their feet by a golf ball travelling at 200km/hr. Currently they shout “Fore!” Being a drunken celebrity this takes time to register in my brain and when it eventually does I cleverly shout “Five!” before being cleaned off my feet by a plastic space rocket covered in dimples.

For a warning to really catch someones attention it should contain at least five swear words. True story.

Ball makers should also only out dimples on one side of the ball to spice things up a little bit. Every time you hit the ball it will have an unpredictable flight pattern. We will have to re-learn to play the game of golf and this will out interest back in the sport. Besides, variety is the spice of life and golf needs a bit of hot Bombay Chill ass napalm to get it going. Unfortunately most golf player are so old they only have 2 years left of their life membership, and they won’t be able to learn how to play the game. Sorry for you!

What is the rule forbidding the use of cellphones on the course? By the hammer of Thor, this is preposterous! What if a rather striking young lass I met the previous week is calling to see if I want to meet up with her? If I don’t take that call she might give up on me because she thinks I am ignoring her and am not interested in her lovely form. Then what? Are you going to suck me off Mr Club Manager? Are you going to give me a reach around?

Oh you are?! Well…I guess…beggars can’t be choosers!

The current crop of golf cars are a crock of shit as well and they seem to be powered by solar panels, such is their speed. Let’s get BMW on the job to put some petrol drinking, oil burning, over priced engines into them to give them a little more speed and flair. That way we can play 18 holes(Um…of golf) in the time it would normally take to play 9 holes. Time is money and we cannot waste it!

These faster cars on the golf course might lead to more injuries, and possibly deaths on the course but players should be warned to watch out for these fairway hogs crossing the green at high speed.

Come on now, what is with the real grass? Unless it’s grass I can roll into a fat spliff and smoke, then there is no use for it. Why bother watering real lawn when for a large sum of money we could invest in some hockey style Astro-Turf? Of course the new golf carts and faux turf will cost a fair wad of dough but this will be quickly paid off when the youngsters start frequenting the 19th hole and spend obscene amounts of money on alcoholic beverages.

Besides, with the new lawn, the ball will roll better, it’s always green and never needs mowing.

We also might need to look into vending machines at every tee box that supplies beer. Golf is a tiresome sport and we need to quench our thirst every hole. Dehydration is a very serious problem (Ask Tim Noakes) for even the most physically superior being. Beer is actually a wonder drink for golf as it provides carbohydrates for energy, water for hydration and alcohol to soothe your shot nerves. By the end of the 2nd hole my nerves are absolutely shattered and I want to attack anything that crosses my visionary field. Beer will help.

Sean: Enjoys drinking and driving

Fashion is an amazing thing but the golf world does not have fashion in its dictionary. The bland khaki pant and shirt is not a good look! Get somebody like Tom Ford in to design some kit. He resurrected the Gucci brand, now imagine what he would do for the Golf brand.

A couple more young lady members would also be a nice addition. Put out adverts saying something like this “Free earrings/ ring/ hair clip/ MAC lip glass with every ladies membership taken out from now on” Girls love that type of shit. Even better give them the book “He’s just not that into you” Chicks dig it. Then also tell them that a whole crop of strapping young lads have recently joined the club and they look remarkably like Achilles from Troy. Girls will immediately think of Brad Pitt in Troy and flock like the swallows of Capastrano to sign their membership forms.

The increase in membership amongst young people will mean more fun and more money and will carry golf way into the future and make it the most desired sport in the world. Golf will go on to be the sport of warriors, trojans, gladiators and titans the world over! We want to get a petition going and are looking for club managers to join this global movement which sets out to change the face of golf for the better.

If you are interested then please do write back to me asking for further details.

Yours sincerely

The Honourable(Insert your name here)

Ok then…the room is spinning. I’m taking this bottle of vodka back, it’s making me feel sick.
Sean Lloyd

Editor

Congratulations must go to Bishops who won the game against Rondebosch on Saturday. Well done guys.

Look I would add my R10 worth here but I never watched the game. I mean…I was there but I was too occupied in my drinking, socilaising and name throwing. I took along a couple 200ml bottles of old brown sherry. Just the ticket for a rainy day in Rondebosch!

This is the last anyone saw of me…standing on a ledge at the new pool, with a bottle in my hand. Reports are that the international press were looking for me. But I am very very sneaky!

Naturally at any school game like this, there is going to be a minority crowd of white trash who thought they could dominate. A swift judo chop to these punks shoulders had them wincing in pain.

Please enjoy their fashion. White sunglasses(Probably Spitfire, R80), skater shoes that are so loose their feet swim around in them, hoodies trying to resemble Pharrell, trucker caps and a style of walking that they believe makes them cool.

Yeah guys. Carry on that way.

Chicks dig it. Ok then…

The crowd was massive though on Saturday and I was lost amongst all the little school kids. You know it’s a pity I’m getting so old because…damn…those school girls are much hotter than when I finished school. Look I did turn into an international sex symbol after leaving school, so maybe I was not as popular as I thought back in the school days where an exciting day consisted of my Biology teacher, Mrs Venter, bending over to put a tape in the VCR and showing a little bit of that black g-string.

After which she would ask me to come up in front of the class and read my project out.

“Um…no ma’m. Uh…really sore ankle. Just…um…just give me a couple minutes. And some ice. And a photo of a dead baby”

Honestly, was there anything worse in school than breaking wood and then being asked to go up in front of the class and read something.

It happens so easily. You are sitting in Afrikaans class bored out of your mind. You start daydreaming and your minds wanders a little…you think of how you finally pulled Kate in Blink on that rainy Claremont night.

Suddenly you crack wood. Then Mr Pasquallie says:

“Mr Lloyd kan jy asseblief jou boek geread”

Obviously my Afrikaans has gone to shit and that makes no sense, but essentially I’m trying to say that the teacher called me up to read.

“Uh…meneer…ek kan nie”

“Kak man. Kan nie lees?”

“Ja skat”

“Nee, kak man, staan op”

“Meneer ek het hout”

“Jou vuil uil”

God talking of vuil uil reminds me of this chick who was a bit of a skank that used to hang around the circles I used to.

“Vuil Gail”

Ha ha!

School days…good times!

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

Just to let you know, one of the biggest social events in anyones life is tomorrow. Cape Town’s best schools, Bishops and Rondebosch, kick off tomorrow, Saturday 21 June at 12:15 and the game is being televised on M-Net and DSTV. It’s taking place at Rondebosch Boys High School.

My bet is on Rondebosch, but you never know in this game what Bishops will throw out, and it’s going to be raining hard I’m guessing. Get the sherry out, knock off the hippie shit and get there!

Expect bone crunching tackles, beautiful women and a drunk editor throwing one liners from the sideline.

The schools are going to storm that field like it’s Normandy!

Click HERE for the Bishops rugby website.

Click HERE for the Rondebosch School website.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Some of the things we do in this country are just hilarious. Firstly, we elect the current people in government which include our boy JZ, our health chick Tshabalala Msimang and that other guy…um…Thabs. We can now clearly see that they don’t really have any clue what is going on, but I still was not completely convinced that they were absolute morons.

One of the main things we speak about in South Africa is obviously the crime because it is a bit of a bad situation. Now the government could obviously do a couple of things about this but because they have an IQ of 12, they refuse to. They don’t think of getting more cops, or training the cops better, or putting a better education system in place or just helping the country out by doing anything good. Obviously with the 2010 World Cup coming up, we could look at investing in a reliable and safe transport system. But we don’t do that.

It’s no secret that anyone with half a brain will refuse to take the train in South Africa because it’s quite dangerous. True story.

Being South Africa we are of the opinion that we are going to be attacked by some unknown force who are definitely going to hit us from the ocean. Don’t worry about refugees getting through our border, which is nothing more than in invisible line where anyone can cross at their will.

South Africa will let crime roll on, they will let people through the borders, they will be unable to control some xenophobia violence but being the rock stars they are they will want to buy some boys toys. Basically being the “Motley Crue” of the rock star governments, South Africa are near number one when it comes to blowing money on utter crap. They are the hotel trashing rock stars of government.

In this months GQ magazine, we hear that our boys have broken their credit cards in half by purchasing three submarines which come in at a cool R2 billion each. Never mind that there are people starving, or we face an electricity crisis, or that out transport system is so disgusting that we all have to drive personal cars to work, or that we face a multitude of problems. When our boys want to have fun, they will damn well have fun!

The German built type 209 submarine. Good times!

Personally I would have spent the R6 billion on getting Jacob Zuma through a decent High School education. That way he will learn that showering after sex will not prevent AIDS. I would also get Manto Tshabalala Msimang through a High School education so she can learn that eating beetroot and sweet potatoes will not cure AIDS. Lastly I will get Thabo a degree in running a country, so that when violence breaks out, such as the recent xenophobic violence, he will realise that he actually needs to be in the country, and not touring the world. He will also learn to admit that there is in fact a crisis in Zimbabwe.

If I’m not mistaken, not long ago he said there was no crisis. Yeah…and the Pope is Jewish, lives in Sea Point and walks his poodles on the promenade on Monday mornings.

So anyway it’s clear that our boys from the navy have been watching way too much Entourage and they are trying to live like rock stars.

Apparently, according to the GQ article, “the primary role of the submarines is to defend South Africa’s interests and territorial integrity while also bringing to the region and the African continent ‘a significant strategic deterrent capability’ ”

Good God almighty, who is their speech writer? President Bush would approve! “significant strategic deterrent capability” AWESOME! What drugs are they using? It could be lucrative selling that stuff.

But these submarines are actually quite a good thing. Because I was down at Llandudno the other day when I noticed a definite sense of war in the air. I pulled out my scopes and cast an eye over the horizon. Lo and behold, the Germans were coming! God, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. We were definitely being attacked and this warranted the R6 billion pimp spending spree.

I then woke up and my coffee was cold and my dog was licking peanut butter off my balls. Yes, the German invasion was a bad dream.

I can just see what the navy shopping list looks like:

Three submarines

18 Brazilian supermodels, 6 for each submarine

60 barrels of whisky, 20 for each submarine

3000 condoms

Xanax, Oxycontin, Vicodyn and fourty eight bags of cocaine

Milk Thistle liver tablets

80 bags of weed

Unlimited supply of pizza for the munchies

Let us be honest for a second, who the hell is going to attack South Africa, FROM THE SEA? What are they going to take? Our oil? Our gold? Our ramp models? Our property?

I don’t think they are going to do that.

So I can confidently predict this winters blockbuster movie. We introduce to you a Busted Government film.

“Fear and Loathing in South Africa: Bitches, artillery and the PO-lice”

Starring Thabo Mbeki as the brain dead prez. JZ as the bitch slayer. Manto as the groupie. With Jacki Selebi Selebi as the evil villain and The Scorpions as the next extinct species.

Thabo. Thinking of his next drink and spliff session with JZ

They went where no government had gone before. They slept with each other to keep the group tight (And loose I suppose) They rocked out with their piece out and had warm showers. They cured AIDS all the while their people suffered. They laughed with Zimbabwe as they saw it collapse. They got drunk in hospital and then told their people that they were “Health ministers”

The biggest criminal mastermind group since Ocean’s 11 with unlimited bank supplies.

They came, they saw, they destroyed.

Now open at a South Africa near you.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

As a hero of mine, Rick James once said “Cocaines a helluva drug!”

Indeed. Indeed.

It is famed amongst the elite of the world as it just keeps them going. They can punish the party circuit all the time with hardly any tell tale signs of abuse other than bleeding noses and collapsing nose bridges. Cape Town chicks dig it.

It’s pretty easy to know though when someone is smuggling cocaine. Normally the giveaway is when you find cocaine on them at the airport. Or in them. In this case, there is a fair to middling chance that they are in fact smuggling natures wonder party accessory. Usually when you find a bag of cocaine in someones bag, they are also smuggling it.

It’s very rare to catch someone with a kilogram of cocaine on them and when questioned about it they say:

“Well actually I was born with that package strapped to my leg, but I don’t really know what it is”

So some British chick was caught in Oslo wearing a wig(Click HERE for the story). Fair enough. Under the wig however she had 1kg of cocaine glued to her hair. It wasn’t as if she was sleeping, and someone quickly slipped a bag of blow under her wig without her noticing. And to be honest, most people would feel if their head was a kilogram heavier.

Anyway the PO-lice find this cocaine glued to her head. This is all quite intense. If I was a cop and I walked in on a chick stabbing her husband in the heart and the head, I would arrest her for murder. There is no suspicion that she was doing it because she was really doing it. Guilty. Into the slammer with the diesel dykes.

Well our cops in Norway had other ideas. They arrested her.

On suspicion of smuggling cocaine.

She had 1 kilogram of cocaine GLUED to her head.

That could feed a supermodel for a month.

SUSPICION.

There was a kilogram of blow ON HER HEAD.

What is there to suspect? Are you seri-aaaaaaaaaas?

Johnny Depp in Blow. At the time of the release all of Cape Town’s slappers were heard saying “Ha ha ha tee hee hee hee I would Blow him. If you know what I mean!” Funny girls

That’s like looking over Camps Bay beach and saying “I have a suspicion that there might be an ocean in front of us but I can’t confirm it. We will have to do further tests and maybe refer this to the government and Stephen Hawking.

Or you walk in in your girlfriend boning your best friend.

“Camilla and Dave, would you disconnect yourselves from each other, we need to have a chat”

“About what?” says Dave

“Dave I suspect you might be boning my girlfriend. Camilla I suspect you might be boning my friend Dave. It’s not concrete evidence though, don’t get nervous. I just suspect something”

To give you an idea of what a kilogram of cocaine might look like on someones head, I got the supermodel to snap this photo of me this evening.

Sexual favours ensured my charges were dropped

That bag on my head is a 1 kilogram bag. If this was cocaine, would it not be a little suspicious? Just a tiny bit? I mean it’s quite hard to confuse the situation here.If police are so stupid, why are we not all smuggling cocaine? Cocaine is the perfect lifestyle choice.

You can sell it for loads of money.

You can use it to keep you awake and in shape.

You will only ever get arrested on suspicion of smuggling it, even if there are 4 condoms filled with cocaine in your stomach.

Slip it into your girlfriends coffee to keep her sharp, alert and in shape!

I think there is still time for a career change.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

To those of you aware of Cape Town’s top schools, you will already know this. I just thought I should let you know that two of Cape Town’s top schools are playing each other this weekend. At Rondebosch Boys High School. Saturday at about 11am. Be there.

It’s an event that is filled with girls of all ages. I usually come right in the Pavilion once the game is over. Hand arounds, sandwiches, spit roasts etc. I always take a hip flask and by half time it looks as if I have been messing about in the scrum.

Rondebosch Boys High School have an awesome side this year and they will probably take Bishops to the cleaners. If I were a SACS boy I would be keeping a close eye on this game to try and get inside the Bosch players minds.

Although I guess the SACS boys are too busy trying to get into each other. Or they are too busy sucking each other off. Or putting sticks inside each other.

Shame SACS once again finds itself looking on like a rejected child thinking

“Damn I wish I was Rondebosch or Bishops!”

Shame. Remember SACS, people don’t forget!

For last years write up before the game (Granted it was the last Bosch/ Bishops game of the year, the big one) then please click HERE.

And for the alcohol fuelled write up after the game, please click HERE.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Oh no! Not The Rog!

I kind of forgot to write this. I might have been drinking Jager Bombs at the Pandoras Box album launch party at Bambu last week Friday(Well Friday before this past one). Or was it Saturday? I can’t confirm how much I drank, or on what quantities, but I was sitting at my desk now and suddenly a little light switched on in my head.

The precise thought that brought back this memory was that I was thinking about the Infected Mushroom party that I went to on Friday night.

It triggered some sort of party reflex, my liver jolted, and I remembered that I was at Bambu about a week and a half ago. I don’t know what I was doing there, but I was having a great time. Bambu run a pretty slick vibe in Cape Town.

You walk in, and funny enough, on the outside pavement they have bamboo plants just chilling and setting a nice vibe. You might make the connection there.

Bambu

Bamboo

Did you see what they did with that? I think it’s quite clear but I thought I would explain it to you in case you have the mental capacity of a brick.

Obviously I didn’t pay because I had my VIP bracelet on because I’m obviously very important. Or not. I don’t know who organised it but Mitch had something or other to do with it. Mitch is my party liason and he gets me into places where you cannot be gotten into. And we never pay entrance, are always surrounded by nice girls, drink nice drinks and soon and so…third.

Let’s show you a quick picture. Now remember, if you are very young, what these girls do is obviously VERY wrong, and we would NEVER recommend it. However, when presented with it, we don’t complain.

Cheeky

You see, the SLXS crew and it’s associated members are naughty. The girls don’t wear underwear. It’s a very silly thing to do really but I will not complain.

I’d rather they wear no underwear than those hideous granny panties. Luckily I have not seen those since high school. Well first year out actually.

I hate it when our girls do this because they know it makes me angry. When I’m angry I need to spank someone. So usually I gave them a smack on the bottom because they are being very naughty. I always smack them with my pimp hand. Because it keeps my pimp hand strong.

Another cool thing about girls who don’t wear underwear is that there is no incriminating evidence the next morning. You know, you take that supermodel home while your wife is away, she leaves her underwear on the floor and then your wife walks in later in the day to find them on the ground because you have not woken yet to pick them up. Not ideal. This usually ends in something called “divorce” Not too sure on that one really I don’t have any experience of it.

The Rog was there, mixing it up, about to spin off the planet. I can’t remember when he played because I was chatting to some chicks in the VIP room. I never got Biancas number. School boy error.

We met Bianca when we were perusing the booze menu, and we all added that it would be quite silly to actually order the R8000 bottle of Cristal. That’s a true story, a bottle of Cristal at Bambu is R8000. But that’s basically like guaranteeing that you will come right.

Cristal is synonymous with US rap stars. And MTV Cribs. I think they have a deal going on Cribs, because every place has Cristal in the fridge even if they don’t drink champagne. And let’s be honest, it’s not that great.

Oh you haven’t tasted it? Shame.

As we chatted to Bianca we told stories about the time some chick who was out with us knocked over a bottle of Moet in the club and we had to take her away for a spanking as she had once again been a very stupid girl. I’m sure we will see Biance again sometime but I can’t recall what she looks like.

Other than that we had some girl swinging from the ceiling which is quite a novel idea. It ensured that no guys were dancing, but rather staring.

Damn it’s Tuesday already which means…it’s the weekend!

For us anyway. Now get back to the office and let us play TV games in peace. Or pieces, judging by the state of this bottle of gin.

Click BAMBU to be directed to the Bambu website, where you will find useful information on it and not the rubbish I write which involves alcohol and half naked women. Which I guess is not a bad thing.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Sorry about my little away time there but I have been abused by parties. I went to Infected Mushroom on Friday night and nearly spun off the planet. I also went out on Thursday night. Oh yeah and Sunday we went to the Seether after party at Tiger. I’m basically riding into Tuesday on the back end of a triple bender. Wow the earth looks good today. I can feel the coreolis effect, awesome. If that is spelt right then cool. If not then I don’t care because I passed journalism school so everything I do is correct.

Does milk thistle really help the liver? My left leg is even going numb. This could be serious.

I have a meeting at 11 today so I’m going to be off now but I promise to do something by the end of the day. We are also having a competition next month and the prize is…you guessed it…alcohol.

I’m going to go make myself look smart, spray on some new fragrance I have called “Teenage Desire” and act is if I really know how to cross reference hedge funds riding on the bull end of a bear market.

Why am I going to a meeting at a bank? Am I going to a meeting at a bank? It’s all up in the air right now but such is life.

Look I don’t know what I’m talking about it feels as if I have been poisoned. Got a cool 4 hours sleep after Saturdays party.

This is a dark time for me. I have a nice photo later of a naughty girl we saw at Bambu. Ass!

Sean Lloyd

Editor