Ok we are doing a few small updates which I probably should tell you about. Nothing hectic at all. As you will see we are adding the various bookmarking widget things, but they are supposed to be at the bottom of each article, but they are on the side of the screen at the moment, not ideal but iBob is on it as I have absolutely no knowledge of this whole business on computers. I just write. And booze.

Also, I should have links on the side of my page, but for some reason they don’t work so I’m adding a page under “Pages” on the left hand column called “What we read”

I must be honest, there are not a lot of blogs that I read. I’m so vain, narcissistic, whatever it is that for a while I only read my articles. I still do. And I still laugh at them and think “If I were a chick reading this, I would want to smash the guy writing these pieces”

So that would be me. You want to smash me.

Anyway here are my choices:

2oceansvibe – This was the first blog I ever read, and still one of my favourite choices. Cape Town, sex, champagne, million rand cars, expensive number plates and plenty of humour, Seth brings the A-game to writing on 2oceansvibe. A pearler of a read and an influence to many blogs, you will see Seth’s style copied on many blogs, and from time to time we will use words, quotes or humour that originated on 2oceans, such is the hilarity of the writing.
Shaun Oakes – I started reading Shaun Oakes after he commented on a post on a site called Joblog many times ago, where I said they were boring. I followed his link, arrived at the home of Cape Town’s favourite son and never left. Shaun’s writing will sometimes leave you with a feeling of “what the hell just happened”, but it is normal for you to feel like that and you should embrace it.

The House of Marketing – I found out about this when Shane commented on one of my posts, followed the link and landed at their brilliant marketing website. I’m not one to follow this marketing vibe at all, and I hate these so called “marketing professionals” and “Web 2.0 professionals” because everyone is suddenly a professional at what they do. There are obviously guys in the field who are good at what they do (Dave Duarte etc), but it seems everyone is a “professional” and an “expert” Just because I studied journalism, I don’t go around calling myself a “Writing expert” or “Writing professional” I’m a writer, that’s what I do.

I also drink.

Anyway, The House of Marketing had me sold at a post they wrote over HERE, mentioning drugs and spit roasts. My type of humour, my type of site!

And those are the only sites I read actually. Those are my daily visits, and between us and them, you will never go a day without something interesting to read and laugh at.

Also, because I can’t live this lifestyle by myself, there is an entourage section in the left column where we will be adding the profiles of the various people who help us every day to make us who we are.

And that is all for the moment, thanks everyone.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

One thing I try to do in my various capacities as the editor of this battleship is to interact amongst the beautiful people of Cape Town, gathering various girls phone number, creating vast networks of contacts and basically just trying to live like a rockstar.

The other night I’m at this house party in Cape Town, chatting to the little angels, mingling, drinking champagne (Ok sparkling wine, we weren’t at that type of party) and this chick is going on about how winter dries out her skin. I didn’t quite know why she was telling me this, because I was about as interested in the conversation as I am in getting acupuncture on my balls.

By this time (I had been there for a couple of hours before her) I was fairly in the swing of things, at least a bottle down and was trying to make my breakaway from her. Make no mistake, she was extremely beautiful, but I was losing interest as more words came out of her mouth.

I was thinking of an escape plan and had planned on doing a ninja bomb. I would say I need to make a phone call, then just leave the party, and rather try again next week at some other party. Suddenly it was as if the Gods had shone a light down on me and I was blessed with this innate knowledge of what women find interesting. All the while I was thinking of this, our girl (What’s mine is yours) had still been jabbering away.

And then…”bla bla bla”…and…”this cream doesn’t work”…and…”I think the government should”…and…”why are all guys such idiots”.

There was absolutely no way a ninja bomb would work because this girl could just not close her mouth. It would have been difficult to get a word in, or even difficult to merely get a letter in.

I had to be clever, and offer something to her that she could connect on. At this point of the one sided conversation she was now going on about how dry her lips (Facial) were.

I then recalled this time where I had been using (This may or may not be true) Elizabeth Ardens eight hour cream for quite a while, because it is just great for everything. Dry washboard abs, dry manly stubble covered chiselled cheekbones and so on and so fifth.

So I said to her

“You should really try Elizabeth Arden eight hour cream ”

Eight hour cream: Fixed my skin but ruined the possible pants party

She stopped, and for a second while she was quiet I knew she was playing with the thought of leaving with me, or even just lunging for me right there.

“Oh my God, how do you know that?”

Now there comes a point in every mans life where he has gotten too clever, or too confident for himself. That point in my life came last week. I thought I could get away with the “I’m straight, but know a lot of girlie stuff” vibe. That whole metrosexual thing. But I think actually admitting to knowing about Elizabeth Arden eight hour cream was where I had reached my pinnacle. From there I definitely could have scored.

But I go and do something stupid.

“Well I actually use it myself”

“Oh…” Came her reply.

“Well not in the last couple of weeks, but I used to use it lot” I said, backtracking a tiny bit.

“Oh that’s really cool” She said, now looking at me, thinking that I was in all likelihood gay.

From there she stopped talking so much which was an absolute blessing, but she also stopped showing even the slightest bit of interest. Her coat, which was next to her, was now put over her lap, covering her crossed legs and little black dress.

And then once she had obviously, in her head, assumed I was gay, even more talk of girls stuff came out. Jeez Louise, we were onto facial cleansers, toners, epilation and all the rest of that rubbish.

I quietly took my phone out my pocket, pretended to take a call and said I would be back in 5 minutes.

I walked outside, got into the car and left alone…

The moral of the story is that every guy should know how to offer advice on really girlie things. Talk about the GHD, talk about Elizabeth Arden eight hour cream (Chicks are impressed when you know about this one, as they all know it and it’s popular)

Just don’t admit to using the cream.

Because you do want to score don’t you?

Obviously my use of eight hour cream bears some link to my use of Simply Aloe regenerating gel (90% organic aloe ferox) which is perched on my beauty shelf.

In fact I don’y even know if you are supposed to use it on your face, but the face pays the bills so it’s worth putting aloe on it.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Ok so what happened last night was that I decided to be good and actually, for once in my life, try to be productive and get some work done. I had poured some wine, cooked some food and was busy writing when I got a call from none other than Andy B!

I chatted to him and he asked what I was doing. Obviously I make out as though I live excessively every night of the week so I said that I was just having a pants party, and that there were 5 angels waiting in a bubble bath with the Veuve we are about to give away.

He said that sounded cool, but he had something better. He had guest list and VIP access for us at Hemisphere.

“Sweet, I’ll tell these chicks to dry off and wait for sugar daddy while he hits Hemisphere”

So I left all the birds at home, and told them they could go wild on the booze, play TV games, smother each other in gravy and whatever else it is that they like to do.

I musked up with some Armani Black Code, put on my blue suede shoes and got into the VR3 for some heart pounding speed.

I sent it the whole way to the Cape Town city centre where I had to go the the 31st floor of the ABSA building, which is where Hemisphere finds itself perched.

I’m not going to go into too much detail, but I will tell you that the bathrooms are sharp. Everytime you wash your hands, you get a fresh towel. Like, they must go through a kazillion (Give or take a few) towels every night.

They also have this cool thing on the slips, where it says “Take the lift not the window”

Being 31 floors up, the last thing you want to do is fall and break your collarbone, or chip a nail, and then still have to drive the Aston Martin home.

Pistol Pete also had himself talking to a girl of sorts, so I took a photo as evidence that he actually doesn’t get pre-race nerves. He was holding a proper conversation. She didn’t like me taking photos of her though, as can be seen:

I like them mean. Makes taming them a greater challenge.

They also serve Skyy vodka (Inside me) which is a change from Russian Bull Terrier.

On our way out we decided on a little impromptu photo shoot on the Aston Martin. God we gave it a good rev. Those pistons pump. It rides like a sweet dream.

And next week we will chat about the car…

Sometimes it’s tough leading my lifestyle.

Ooooh another angel. I hate my life.

Check out the Hemisphere website HERE.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

(I wrote this last night, do excuse me, never had time to do the pictures, I was going to Hemisphere, more on that later)

So as you all know, I drove the sixty odd rand to Franschhoek on the weekend to attend a soiree vibe and drink lots of wine. None of this happened and so in the interests of making this interesting (See what I did there? Me neither) I decided to pop down to the bottle store and get a bottle of wine. I settled on the Nederburg Baronne, not trying to be too fancy, just trying to get mildly to moderately in the mood to write something of substance.

So the vibe is right now, Woolworths cooked the chicken tonight, and all I have to do is cook the organic sweet potatoes. Contrary to popular belief I don’t lead a totally excessive lifestyle in that manner. I had a classical chicken salad for lunch, and dinner is sweet potatoes and chicken. The only let down on the health side are the various drinks that my body consumes, but I think you can forgive me for that. At least I don’t eat McDonalds chubby cheeks.

So that previous paragraph is for those who delight in finding the inner details of this wild lifestyle I lead.

The VR3 was filled with fuel on Saturday morning, and oddly enough I was in decent shape for a Saturday morning. I didn’t bend it too hard the previous night. I decided I would do a two phase trip to Franschhoek, firstly by driving to Casa del Jerry in Stellenbosch, where we would then change chariots and get into the Black Viper (Write up to come soon, but it’s the successor to THE BOMBER!)

I arrived at Casa del Jerry to find someone on the couch, not hungover, but still drunk. Apparently Fiction in town was the cause of the mornings pain. And shame.

Jerry D was in fine shape that morning and he looked fresh, but he doesn’t drink wine so I was let down there.

We strapped ourselves in and programmed the GPS to direct us to the French Corner. For a bit of fun, we had the chick on the GPS talk in Dutch. Like not South African dutchman, but egter Nederlandse taal.

Ja de koperslager! I do know little bits of Dutch, holding a Dutch passport myself, thank you very much!

We definitively proved that Al Gore is a liar on the trip up to French Corner. And as all our readers know, liars go to hell. Check this picture out of this so called “global warming” phenomenon.

To me that looks like snow. The air was cold outside like it was snowing. Unless it was proper Columbian blow on that mountain top, it was definitely snow!

Our first sign that the day was going pear shaped was the traffic. On a Saturday afternoon. Going into Franschhoek.

I was mildly annoyed that this was happening, and told GPS bitch to find a new route. She couldn’t. All she could do was give us an alternate route that would have found us going through the south of Thailand, before catching a boat back to Cape Town, mooring off of Clifton 4th beach, swimming to shore and taking the helicopter back to Franschhoek. Personally, I didn’t have the energy for that.

Eventually we get into Franschhoek and realise that it’s proper festival. In that everyone and their dog was there. The first school boy error was that I never checked the festival schedule. I assumed that due to the good name I cultivated in Cape Town, someone there would know me, and obviously let me drink for free and possibly give me a hand around behind the tent while I eat some ham or something.

The crowds, with Diamond’s Liquor Store in the background. NICE!

Unfortunately for this good sir, I was not in such luck. We arrived at the tent and I was standing behind a smoking belter, so I pitched a tent of my own. Well a marquee anyway.

Thinking that it was all free, and that a slip of my business card would have people falling at my feet, I thought the situation would be easy.

We found out that entrance into the tent was R100, and there were 4 of us. That’s R400. Obviously. Now one of the team didn’t drink wine, another was hanging like the Mona Lisa which left myself and Nedine as the only ones wanting to get absolutely shattered in the sun. Which would have made it boring for the other two.

So we decided to take a meander along the streets and find a quaint little restaurant where I could shuck oysters and swirl wine in this delicate mouth of mine. Once again it was a proper festival and EVERYONE was in Franschhoek, and so all the restaurants were full.

To me it was like holding a t-bone steak (Not in any way related to Tommy “T-bone” Lee or Kid “Minute steak” Rock) in front of a rottweiller, but not actually giving the steak to the dog.

I was surrounded by, at a conservative guesstimate, MILLIONS of litres of wine. We were in wine country. We were at the melting pot of millions of litres of liquidy goodness, and yet I could not get hold of a drink. All I could get without going to a restaurant or the wine tent, was beer and things like “Skelter”, some citrus-drink-vibe-effort-thing.

Not one drop of wine passed my lips the entire day. I was bleak about this but came to realise I never liked the French much anyway, what with their constant jabbering of “Let’s put another shrimp on the bar-beeeee!” and “Gooday mate!”

It irritates me. So I decided to be the manly, steak eating, beer drinking man that I am (Or am not. Can you say amn’t? No? Why not?)

So I headed to the Biltong Bar, which oddly enough had the French colours on it. It’s like the Voortrekkers invading the French winelands on their trekkers (Tractors the the layperson)

But actually one of the main reasons why I didn’t go to the restaurants, or into the tent, is because anything with a calorific value had been consumed. Wine, food, everything, by someone called “Landfill” Check, check, check him out:

Enjoy the kids reaction to Landfill, on the right. Spectacular!

Absolutely stunning. And so we end off one of my more mediocre pieces, as I end off this bottle of wine, and this bottle of wine ends off me.

Prost! (As the French like to say)

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I’m not going to go too much into this, but the website Wantitall are PROPERLY expensive. I was looking around at a few Microsoft X-Box systems, went onto Wantitall and saw the middle of the range X-Box with a 20GB hard drive. In the shops in Cape Town it sells for R3000.

Wantitall’s price?

R6324.

Unbelievable.

Check it HERE.

Clearly Wantitall do wantitall, including your cash.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Cape Town 16 July 2008- Masters champion Trevor Immelman has announced that he will attempt to make it a hat-trick of wins when he tees off at the star-studded South African Open Championship at Pearl Valley Golf Estates from 18-21 December 2008.

Immelman, back-to-back champion in 2003 and 2004, will join an illustrious field at this year’s event. Ernie Els, Retief Goosen, defending champion James Kingston, Lee Westwood, Darren Clarke, Jeev Milkha Singh, Rory McIlroy and reigning European Tour Order of Merit Champion Justin Rose have all confirmed that they will compete for the second oldest national Open Championship in golf, which will carry a total minimum prize fund of one million euros this year.

Immelman, whose victory at Augusta in April propelled him to 15th on the Official World Golf Rankings said, “I’ve always ranked my two South African Open wins highly because this is the second oldest Open tournament in the world, and I won it in the Cape, which is where I’m from”

He returns having been forced to withdraw from last year’s Championship having had to undergo surgery to remove a benign tumour from his diaphragm.

His victories in 2003 and 2004 made him only the seventh golfer in the history of the championship to successfully defend his title, and the first since Gary Player in 1976 and 1977. Player is also the only other South African to have won at Augusta.

Immelman will join Ernie Els as a three-time winner of the South African Open Championship should he claim a historic hat-trick at Pearl Valley Golf Estates in December.

“To play in front of a big home crowd is a great feeling. I’ve been fortunate to receive so much support and good wishes from South African since I started playing golf as a five year old. For me to come back and hopefully play some great golf and to give something back to them means a lot to me.”

David Spencer, Chief Executive – Golf of Leisurecorp, said:

“This is fantastic news for the South African Open and for all of Trevor’s fans in his home country. We’re proud that Trevor has made the time out of his heavy commitments in the US to play at Pearl Valley Golf Estates. He will add a huge amount to the tournament.”

“Trevor has always been a huge supporter of golf in South Africa and has played in the Open on many occasions. It’s brilliant that he is back again- and this time as a Major- winner.”

“When we took over Pearl Valley Golf estates we promised to do everything we could to attract the biggest names to play here- and this year’s South African Open is shaping up to be the best yet.”

Tickets to attend the South African Open Championship are available from Computicket (HERE). Proceeds from the ticket sales will go to the South African Open Championship charity, the Pebbles Project, a winelands based organisation that offers support to children with special educational needs, particularly those whose lives are affected by alcohol in some way.

What’s an iPod?

If you are asking that question, then I know which school you might be from in Cape Town. It’s that music player thing your parents bought for you.

I have quite an old iPod (30GB photo- old school) and it was playing up the other day. I couldn’t listen to my Belinda Carlisle collection. Tracy Chapman was not working either. I was distraught without my Cyndi Lauper. In fact nothing was working. Tom Jones, Lionel Ritchie…NOTHING!

So I busted into the iStore ready to kick ass and chew gum. And I was all out of gum.

I went to the guy at the back of the store at the repair section thing, he gave me a feral look from behind the counter, a little pale looking, a little scared as well as though he had been looking at porn.

“iPod. Not work” I said, like a proper delinquent.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It won’t turn on, and when it does, it just skips through all the songs without playing them”

“It could be that the hard drive is damaged, and then usually you have to get a new iPod. But…it could also be something less serious. Give these guys a call…” He said as he handed me a card for iFix iPod repairs.

I took the card and read it. It said I could drop my iPod at Mabu Vinyl (Awesome place for vinyl records- Pay them a visit) in Cape Town.

I drove straight through, demanding answers, demanding money, demanding drugs and demanding women!

I spoke to this chilled guy there who let me know that I would have to fill out a form of sorts, and they would get back to me if the repair was over R500. Anything under that and they would automatically repair it.

“Sounds like a plan, Japan” I said to the guy at the desk.

I left my iPod there last week, and got an sms today saying the bad boy was ready.

I drove around like a loony looking for parking in town as it was its usual mess. Eventually I found a spot, and ANOTHER car guard approached me.

“Hi sir”

“Don’t worry about the VR3 my lad, it spits flames at anyone who comes close to it”

“Ok sir”

Cool, now I won’t have to pay him, the 40th car guard that has approached me today.

Rolling in in a blaze of glory, I slammed my slip down, my iPod was fetched and it was going to cost me R350.

My invoice: Sorry ladies, had to blur my phone number out. E-mail me…

“Sick” I said to myself, LOUD.

All that was needed was a battery replacement, and now it’s working like a dream!

And so now I find myself back at home listening to “Not alone anymore” by The Travelling Wilburys. You know, with Roy Orbsion.

Funny enough, I am still alone. Not lonely of course. NO! Me? I don’t get lonely!

A little bit of trivia here. Roy Orbisons first wife was tragically killed in a motorcycle accident in 1966. Then while Roy boy was touring England in 1968, the family home burnt down on September 14, and two of his three sons died in the fire.

And I’m writing this almost exactly 40 years after that happened. And yesterday was the 14th.

Strange…very strange indeed.

I must finish this off, the tears are about to short circuit my laptop.

So as I said, my iPod was fixed perfectly and once again I can listen to romantic love songs, all by myself, whoop whoop! Could life be any better?

Don’t answer that for me.

So if you are in Cape Town, and your iPod is working about as hard as Thabo Mbeki, then get hold of iFix iPod repairs.

Best of all, they have a little website, over HERE.

No don’t stress, that’s what I’m here for.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Cruising around Cavendish the other day on the back end of a mild bender, it was understandable that my eyes were going to be red and my teeth were going to be green. I might also have had a cane aroma surrounding me. Well it’s better than smelling of rum, that is the worst drink to smell of.

Anyway, and I’m not joking here, I could hardly see anymore. A combination of the booze drying my body out, and the shopping centres air-conditioning had my eyes feeling like someone was rubbing them with sandpaper. Gisele Bundchen could have stripped naked in front of me and I wouldn’t even have blinked. Mostly because if I blinked my eyes would have stayed shut.

So I innocently walk into Clicks, buy some Safyr Bleu, and stroll out. I’m chilling there opening the package when suddenly I look around to disapproving stares. Parents were grabbing their kids while running and pointing fingers at me(Don’t finger me!), girls were running in the opposite direction and teenage guys were throwing the usual “You trying to come right tonight?” jokes around.

It was chaos, it was like the bull run!

I managed to take this photo of the chaos IN Cavendish Square 

Incidentally there were a couple of bulls with McDonalds in their hands who were running, well galloping, away from me. Sweetie, trust me, if I were going to spike a drink, it wouldn’t be your 1 litre sugary coma inducing McDonalds coke.But amid this chaos, all I was actually doing was trying to lube my eyes up, not any of the surrounding females.

It’s weird how eye drops in todays world make you look like a criminal…I wanted to stand in the centre of Cavendish shouting:

“I’m not a Peterfu*%er! I’m not!”

But I felt that would have made the situation worse.

Because everyone who sees anyone else with eye drops immediately thinks that they are going to spike someones drink with it. I don’t spike drinks with eye drops trust me…I always use roofies. I pay top dollar to come right. I’m joking…no really…I am.

A simple thing such as eye drops immediately has bouncers at clubs thinking “You dirty son of a bitch!”

So I wouldn’t dare walk into a club in Cape Town with eye drops in my pocket. At various clubs in Cape Town they do actually search girls bags for eye drops and they keep them in a jar at the entrance, such is peoples penchant for spiking drinks these days. I know girls try spike my drinks all the time, but it’s an occupational hazard, a risk I’m willing to take for this job.
Oh well…such is life.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

When I got this invite, from a girl, I thought she was trying to suggest that there was something going on between me and her.

I sent her a message right back:

“Your place or mine?”

“What?” She replied, innocently.

“The girls on top invite”

“Sean I wouldn’t shag you if my life depended on it”

Right. Straight after that I went to the shop to buy some super glue, to repair this shattered heart of mine.

She was actually talking about a party entitled “Girls on top” which is taking place at Hemisphere this Wednesday the 16th of July 2008.

To be honest, I don’t care where the girls are, on top, on the side, at the bottom, whatever! Just…you know…play with my balls, fix me a sandwich and…just stop talking so much!

No I’m lying that’s really rude. Feminists will be kicking the door of Casa del Lloyd down any minute now. Ok, so here are the details on the party. I have heard the Wednesday vibe at Hemisphere is insane, so I’m expecting good things (You know…if I go. I’m really shy and don’t drink that much) If it’s anything like FTV on a Wednesday night, I’m probably going to pull at least three models.

“The ultimate ladies night awaits you as NawtyMedia and Hemisphere in association with Vawter bring you Girls on Top!

On this night ladies will be spoilt rotten with goodie bags, spot prizes, complimentary makeovers by our professional hairstylists and make up artist all the while sipping on complimentary Vawter and enjoying the decadent chocolate fountain. What more could you ask for? Ladies are free until 10:30″

I think it sounds like a plan, Japan!

The one thing that does worry me though are the free makeovers, as it might be deceiving on my eyes after 30 jagerbombs. The problem is, I am quite sought after in Cape Town and regularly have girls slipping roofies into my drink. Not to mention eye drops. They just want me! And so with the free makeover, I’m scared Shrek is going to go in, get a ton of make up applied, end up looking like Ana Ivanovic and I’m going to pull her.

But I have a foolproof way of spotting this. If I see any of those pies eating from the chocolate fountain, and they are good looking, I will know they actually ugly underneath.

It’s a proven fact that beautiful girls don’t eat chocolate. Because a moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips. Remember that.

And if you can’t remember that, then write it down.

And you were just thinking to yourself “Where I am going to go on Wednesday night to score some action?”

Well I have it planned out for you.

What? Girls on Top party

Where? Hemisphere Nightclub, 31st floor ABSA Building, Foreshore, Cape Town

When? Wednesday 16 July 2008 at 9pm, and it ends at 4am on the 17th of July 2008.

Facebook? Check the event invite over HERE.

Smash it. In it’s face. Hard.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

My geography teacher, Mr Endley, always knew that I was going to be miserable at geography because I was more interested in girls and biology. So that’s why he would laugh when I, and all my associates, would draw massive koks on his chalk board.

So I’m sure he will forgive me now for not knowing which direction Zimbabwe is in relation to Cape Town. So I will just say this, our boys to the north/ south/ west/ east are battling with their cocaine addictions. And no, they are not battling to kick their addictions, because rehab is for quitters, but rather they are battling to afford even een grammetjie (As I turn onto my Dutch side)

I think it should be in the constitution that we should all be able to afford at least one gram. Looking at the price of coke today, and translating it into Zimbabwean dollars, we see that food prices are not the problem, but cocaine prices could be.

Imagine paying $1.25 trillion (Zim dollars) for a gram of cocaine? Insane! No wonder Bob is so happy up there, he knows his people can’t afford the coke, and so he is putting it up that nose of his. You can see it in his eyes though, he is a little bit crazy from doing too much coke. I know some of you may think there is no such thing as too much, but we must agree that he is putting too much charlie up his shnozz.

My normal Sunday morning routine consists of kicking the random supermodel out my room and then ambling down to the cafe to get a copy of the Sunday Times, where I flip to the back page, download the photo of the back page girl into my memory and then pour a nice little afternoon drinky drink.

Imagine my surprise today when I had to spend $50 billion on the newspaper!

So expensive I can’t even afford clothes!

We did get a nice photo of Tanya van Graan on the back page, but the ones myself and her took in Plett in 2003 were much nicer. They even came with a video. We played doctor nurse that day…

Good memories.

But I just think that $1.25 trillion for a gram is pushing it a bit. You know, let’s give the guys a break. If it’s not enough that the Zim prez is a bit of a loony, they still have to deal with funding the essentials like bread, milk, the newspaper and cocaine.

What does a man have to do to get high these days?

Sean Lloyd

Editor