I was privileged enough to meet Chris Simpson last week Wednesday for a function of sorts at none other than Villa Lara. I think it was Wednesday. On Thursday I was at 26 Sunset Avenue with Sean(Or Shaun) and Julien the butler. What? Well someone has to live the dream!

Villa Lara’s pool: Sexual 

It was quite rad, I won’t lie. I met Chris briefly as he went around chatting to everyone at his stunning Cape Town Villa, set in Llandudno, a place close to my heart! To those of you unaware, Chris has produced award winning work and loads of his prints can be seen in his home, Villa Lara.

Villa Lara’s patio: Sexual 

Villa Lara is one of the most beautiful villas I have ever been into, and with sea views from pretty much everywhere including the bath in the main bedroom, it’s true Cape Town luxury living. At some R21000 per day in peak season, it’s not that far off to actually stay in Villa Lara. We just need to up our game!

We all chilled and drank wine, and a couple of Mojitos, and then ate some sushi, and then some other delicious food! It’s not the worst job in the world, I won’t lie, but again, someone has to do it.

To check out some of Chris’ stunning work, click here.

For the official Villa Lara website, click here.

Thanks to everyone especially Chris and Charlene for having us round, I had an awesome time!

Now if some more of those delicious Mojitos could be sent my way I would truly be living the dream.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

Remember, if you want to party like a rockstar, or like me, apply for tickets to the Twentybrand party over HERE.

Ready D, Ryan Dent, Leighton Moody and Flash Republic are playing on Friday 12 September in Cape Town.

I went out last night to that Tiger Tiger end of exams or something party and I literally cannot function today. It’s Friday though, so forgive me. I threw so much name and I was fairly out of hand. No one will talk to me today, rad!

Sean Lloyd

Editor

CEO

Owner

Managing Director

Captain of this ship

El Capitano

Chief

Commander in Chief

President

Main Koenyn

Koning

Lead Anchor

Raddest Dude Alive

“Tower this is Ghost Rider requesting a fly by”

“Negative Ghost Rider the pattern is full”

BOOM!

Oh my word, last night was insane. I went to Hemisphere with Andy B to the Lingerie party. Well I have NEVER seen such fine people on display. Honestly, there were like 5 models in lingerie posing on a couch for some sort of photo shoot. There were nipple slips and everything, it was insane. I will try find out where those photos are, and I’m sure if I get a hand on them I will put one or two up here.

Yeah that was the pleat in my pants. No I’m serious, I wear pleated pants.

So I’m chilling in the VIP section (I didn’t know there was anything less than VIP) and some girl comes up to me asking why I’m not dancing. I obviously let her know that if I do dance I will literally burn up the floor, I’m that good.

Anyway, she goes on to ask me what it is that I do. I don’t normally speak about what it is exactly that I do, and I definitely don’t tell people that I run this website. I keep it on the DL, and let people find out for themselves. I had been reading an interview in GQ earlier in the day with Christian Bale who is one of my top rated actors.

He was saying how sometimes in interviews he gets bored of telling the truth, and sometimes the people interviewing him will bring up something that is not true, and just for fun, he will run with it.

So I get asked last night what it is that I do.

“Well that’s quite interesting, because I don’t actually do anything” I replied casually.

“Oh…so…you’re like a socialite?”

“Yeah pretty much”

“How did you make your money”

“I don’t really like to speak about it much. Listen, I must just catch up with some friends I came out to meet tonight, it was nice meeting you”

So I cruise around, chat, have some jager, have some vodka Red Bull (I have those when I can’t get hold of USN Spike) and the next thing I know, this chick is back.

“Seriously though, what do you really do?”

“I really can’t say, I just build relations by going out a lot and meeting lots of people”

“But like…how do you make your money?”

“Well I’m not really wealthy”

“But you’ve been drinking vodka and Red Bull all night and it’s a Wednesday night, most people have work tomorrow”

“It’s just that…I really can’t speak about it”

We left it at that. Damn, the next thing you know, I’m looking across the bar at her and 4 of her friends are looking my way, obviously intrigued as to my arrogant swagger (Ha ha…ha…cough…ha ha…ummm)

Now after a few drinks, I thought I was clever. But now it’s Wednesday and I’m rethinking what the hell was going through my mind last night. Wait it’s Thursday. Either way it’s the weekend.

Last night I thought I was playing it cool but now looking over it this morning a few things have been brought to my attention:

By not paying too much interest in these girls, they could possibly think I’m gay. Which means I am out of the game with them. KO’d.

They could also think that I’m an arrogant tool (Which, by the way, I might be) and don’t want to have anything to do with me.

They could also think I have a girlfriend.

They might also think that I’m really boring, and don’t really know how to talk to girls (Which I don’t. What, do YOU?)

I think the odds here are stacked against me. While it is nice to play it cool, and act uninterested, or is it disinterested here, there is a line. I think I crossed the line into acting so uninterested that those girls probably won’t speak to me next time I’m out.

The reason I’m telling you this is because when a group of hot girls are trying to figure you out, at least give them something. Don’t ever think that you are so cool that you cannot reveal anything about yourself and they are going to find this attractive. Because they don’t. There are now four or five girls in Cape Town who are probably spreading the word about the arrogant guy in the white shirt drinking the vodka Red Bull on a Wednesday at Hemisphere.

I’m SUCH an idiot, so do learn from my mistakes.

There is a difference between cavalier and just being boring and coming across as arrogant.

Back to school for me.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I’m often asked about parties and drinking and stuff I know a lot about, so it’s no surprise that people ask me how to better their chances of coming right with the opposite sex. I’m like a teenage prodigy in this regard and I know everything. Obviously it’s not possible to recreate my vibe when you go out because not everyone has an all year round tan, chiseled cheekbones and a natural sexual energy that flows from them like a fountain. I have all these things and it was a genetic lottery that I hit.

When I exercise, I sweat Armani Black Code. True story.

Anyway, to recreate some of my party vibe you can spend some money to get similiar effects. On my off days I take this party kit with me:

The Stay Awake keeps me awake, while the eye drops keep the other party asleep! I don’t think we need to go too more in depth here as I’m sure you get the point.

This is what I’m here for, to help you along in pursuit of the Cape Town dream. You can’t see me, but every day I’m working towards a bigger dream in Cape Town, and it constantly unfolds here in my writing. I’m sure you will see this, if you haven’t already.

I’m like Mother Theresa. I just drink more. And I’m a guy. Actually I’m not like her at all. Sorry, bad example.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I was checking out this pack of Marshmallows yesterday and all I can say is that I…am…shocked.

On the packet it says “A naturally fat free product” Meaning, people are going to see this and think “Oh well it’s alright to eat then! Down down down…down into my belly…down down down…I love marshmallows…they can’t make me fat.”

Thunder thighs may want to consider a tactical chunder… 

NO NO NO!

Put the marshmallows down! Come on, look at yourself? Can you really afford to be eating these sugar bombs? No I don’t think you can, with summer being on the way and all. I know there is no fat in sweeties, but there is sugar, and we all know that carbs are the enemy! Obviously good carbs are fine, like sweet potatoes and low GI products (As Sean recites his copy of Patrick Holfords New Optimum Nutrition Bible from memory)

There are also good fats such as olive oil, avocado and nuts. But McDonalds is not a good source of fat! Their meat is a good source of hormones though, so if you want to be fat and hairy then I would suggest McDonalds is the right way to go. You know…you could grow a ‘tache like that chick at Pick ‘n Pay.

Obviously with Tashtober and Movember coming up (More on this another time) this would be the perfect time for the girls to stock up on hormones from poor meat sources such as that muck non free-range-smells-of-fish- chicken that you can buy at Pick ‘n Pay. Seriously if you girls want to grow a mullet, or a mean moustache, then go ahead and eat that stuff.

I’m just saying…your chances of coming right if you are big and hairy are slim to zero.

I’m hitting the ball…it’s flying…oooooh it’s landed!

The ball is in your court. Play it as you will.

Incidentally it’s the Her(m)anus Whale Festival in September…

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

We came across these sandals (They are from Brazil, so are sandals, not Japandals, like the ones from Japan) in Woolworths the other day. Ok, cool, a pair of sandals.

NO! Not just any sandals. Ipanema by Gisele Bundchen! It’s quite weird because when I dated Gisele (Hooked up in Cabo in 1992 for the first time) we were obviously getting quite serious and thinking of pumping out a few little Gisellings. We mutually decided that Ipanema would be the name of our first child. I went on to become the more successful one, and Gisele just got really jealous and I had to end the relationship. Calling her range “Ipanema” and making sure they get stocked in my local Woolworths in Cape Town is quite clearly her way of saying she wants me back.

Babe, I’m single at the moment, so when you are ready again I always have place in my heart for you. My heart will go on! (Sung to the tune of Celine Dions Titanic epic song)

Anyway, I haven’t seen Gisele in absolute yonks (Joburg kugel) and when I heard her range of sandals for the ladies was available in Cape Town, I was quite impressed. It’s also quite weird that Gisele is from Brazil, her Ipanema sandals are made in Brazil and she sports a Brazilian! It’s like the merging of three great Brazilian things…my ex, her sandals range and her grooming regime. Awesome!

So the whole vibe with the sandals is that this whole Ipanema and Gisele Bundchen thing is geared towards saving the waters of Xingu, Brazil and the world. It’s a whole vibe of preserving the planets precious water systems so we can all survive.

Ipanema by Gisele Bundchen: R120 for that pair 

Index finger to lip: Hush my Gisele…soon we will be together… 

So when you buy Giseles sandals, you kind of help out by supporting these programs, and you also support a healthy body image for the ladies all over the world. Seeing Gisele makes chicks get insecurities, and they want to lose weight and take better care of themselves which is a blessing. Also the mention of water might divert their attention away from that Coke which will no doubt spend a good part of it’s life on the thighs.

Another weird thing is that the last time myself and Gisele were chilling together she wasn’t even wearing sandals. Someone from the press took this photo as we got into a bout of sexual healing:

Positioning herself directly over my immense piece. I miss our summers together. 

As you can see, Gisele was placing herself nicely above me. Rad. I still miss her, but I’m confident we will make a reunion soon, and we will have our little Ipanema.

Anyway girls, I thought I should let you know that you should get down to Woolworths to get a hold of these sandals, because not only does it promote a good body image (Read: Skinny) but it also saves the fresh water of the world. In addition, Gisele is an ex very close to my heart, and so by supporting her, you essentially support me and my future with my wife and our little Gisellings.

It feels like the stars are aligning.

I won’t be single for long…

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

It’s quite normal to see hose holders at houses, most likely made by Gardena and sporting a green Gardena hose. This is alright if you lead a regular lifestyle, but obviously you don’t want to lead a regular lifestyle. You don’t want to end up like your folks do you?

You want to be like Rod Stewart! You want to be boning a chick that keeps getting better looking, you want to trade your wife in for a new model. Right. Or you might want to do a Ronnie Wood.

So I was at a house warming near The View (Table View) on Saturday when I noticed possibly the most awesome piece of garden architecture I have seen in my life. It’s something that you will probably only see around The View, but I think it’s quite rad! And please enjoy the colour of the hose, because green is so mainstream!

Please enjoy that. “Naai, naai, bloo hose! Naai naai, passion gap! Naai naai rolling on dubz!”

It’s quite awesome, but it would be better on 22″ rims I think. Even better, if you could get the rim of something like a Rolls Royce, you would be THE biggest pimp in Cape Town! Imagine that…You would score so many more chicks, just by pimping your hose holder.

Imagine the possibilities once this trend starts catching on…You heard it here first.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I was at this soiree at the town apartment on Saturday night when I laid my eyes on the most gorgeous thing of my life. Unfortunately she would not speak to me, so I consoled myself and looked for happiness and love at the bottle of a gigantic wine glass. While I was perusing the kitchen, looking for stuff that would look good in my kitchen (I like to permanently relocate things), I came across the most beautiful bottle of Tabasco sauce I have EVER seen in my life.

It’s so small, probably so small that it would not even Tabasconize (I made that word up right now, feel free to use it, it will definitely be in the dictionary next year) one slice of pizza. I seem to have gotten slightly immune to Tabasco after a few too many drunken days at Forries, where after a few brews, I just pour Tabasco all over myself, all over chicks, in my eyeballs, on my main chap and stuff like that.

I obviously used to choke and cry when I first used it, but now it’s more tingly than hot. This little bottle of Tabasco is so dinky (With a “d”) though that you just want to eat it all up! Have a look:

Oh sorry, that was a little too sexual wasn’t it! I do apologise but I’m currently listening to Rebel Yell by Billy Idol. Whether that is sexual or not is another story, but anyway. Have another look:

Isn’t it too divine for words?

I think it is! I don’t quite know where to get it, but it’s 3.7ml’s of pure peppery goodness and you will literally want to pour it into your stomach. Directly. An IV drip would work as well, as my taste buds have become a bit dead due to overuse on the T-Sauce front.

I just thought that you needed to know about this bottle. Whether it’s going to make you wealthier or not is yet to be seen.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I’m not even going to begin this by lying to you. So I won’t lie, I have basically been by myself the entire day (My Facebook friends are dropping by the double digits daily as my writing intensifies and people have begun to hate me, and avoid me like you would the plague)

So it’s Sunday, and I have been tapping the wine fridge (R5000, thanks for coming) pretty much the entire day In Pursuit of Happyness. I can’t say it’s worked that well but I am beginning to see some sort of light. I think it’s the light above my desk, but anyway.

So Sundays are normally consumed by me being alone, drinking stuff that probably should not be drunk, and then going onto Facebook to see who I will most likely have kids with one day. It’s a nicer way of saying that Sundays are spent on Facebook stalking random girls that I have met and trying to find out exactly what they like, so I can suitably impress them, or roofie them, or whatever. Eye Gene…

Anyway, I’m on this birds page (Katie, no need to worry, I won’t let anyone know your name. It’s my secret) and I see an advert for a place called “Mantality” The advert actually said something about male grooming or something of the sort. I should mention here that I don’t moisturise, neither do I drink Savannah, nor do I use hair products.

Anyway I thought I should click this ad anyway, even though I shy away from male grooming myself. I get onto the Mantality website, and it’s obviously trying to follow in the path created by Manology, who I have used before. So I’m cruising around, looking at moisturisers (Joking dad,the only aftershave I use is Old Spice like you taught me. Nothing like that burn after shaving!) I then see a page called “Sex”

Obvioushleeey being a couple of glasshes of wine down…that’s lie…maybe two bottles…I was quite keen to check this section out.

Well well! I was shocked!

(Insert gasping sounds…breathing in deeply…eyes wide)

There is some crazy stuff there! I’m not joking, Mantality is like MENTAL at the moment! I’m fairly well read and intelligent (Yeah go ahead ahead and laugh. After laugh laugh comes cry cry) but there is stuff there that I never knew existed.

Check some of this stuff out (Kids please go watch the Cartoon Network):

Firstly we have the Fleshlight Original Ice Lady. I had no idea what this was until the description informed me:

“As you penetrate the velvety soft Real Feel Super Skin you will experience the absolute finest in simulated intercourse known to man”

OK! RIGHT! Check the weather outside, it’s mad! Hey mom how you doing! Hey dad! Wooo hoooo! Yeah just shaved my balls…

Quite interesting there. Moving along:

“The Monkey Spanker”

“The Monkey Spanker Vibrator is a brand new tool for spanking the monkey. Based on an innovative diaphragm design…”

Oh GRIEF! This is too much for me ha ha! I can now confirm that my teeth are stained red from the wine and this stuff is too funny.

I mean…let’s not even get into the “Tenga Deep Throat Cup” or the “Tenga Double Hole Cup”

“Oh howzit mom”

“What am I doing? Not much hey, just spending a few grand on a double hole cup for myself and some stuff to choke myself out with. And a monkey spanker. Hey? What is that? Oh it’s just a new rice cooker from Miele. Oh that thing…no it’s the name of a new range of pots I just bought from Le Creuset. Cool, later mo-izzle”

You start off by having one drink on a Sunday, the next thing you know you are looking at fake holes, chatting to your mom on the phone and realising the absurdity of the situation.

I’m on the phone to my folks while looking at sex toys and I’m drunk.

Ahhhh Sunday…the day of the Lord.

Fabulous!

Sean Lloyd

Editor

We hit up FTV Cafe in Cape Town on Wednesday and had one beer, then left.

Why?

Because no one was there! Weird…I have not been in a while and never knew it had quietened down on a Wednesday. Normally it’s mental in there. Anyway, someone had a clever idea to hit Wadda. I wasn’t keen. We went anyway. They were closing.

Someone said Tin Roof. I pulled out my 9, and was about to shoot myself. I thought my life is too good to waste on Tin Roof. Anyway we went in.

Some chick comes over to us, thinking she will pull. The ground shook where she walked.

This week’s classic comment comes in. One of the crew:

“Man the harpoon gun!”

And I’m done. I now officially have about 5 friends, after the hate mail from my Smarties article. Oh well…I’m having an awesome time.

Have a great weekend.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

David Guetta is coming to Cape Town on 20 September 2008 and you need to click HERE to apply for tickets.

Applying for tickets is basically the opposite of sleeping with your sister…

It’s the right thing to do.

Well…in most households.

So do it (Not your sister, apply for tickets) and I will hopefully see you there!

Both at the show and your sisters house.

Your mom’s quite nice as well.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

It was decided that while we are going on the road of excess, we may as well be staying somewhere in Cape Town that at least has a basketball vibe going on. So our villa is a good choice of accommodation and even better is the fact that we invited the Shaq Attaq over to play a game or two with us.

He’s one of the bigger people you will see in your life, and I was just mucking about touching his balls. Ball.

Shaq – Visiting Cape Town especially for SLXS 

I gave the game my all, throwing slam dunks with names like “The Discombobulator” and the “Semi-retarded”

It was decided to involve a girl in the game, so even if the boys lost, the game would still come with a happy ending.

Win-win for the boys 

ZOOOOOOOOOOOM….

BANG!

POW!

KAAAAAAAAAASHHOOOOOOOOOOW!

Mother of GOD, what was that!?!

Evacuate the SLXS HQ, Goerge W is bombing us!

Take the BOOZE you idiots! Pack the LUBE you fools! The blow up doll is melting! Take the slave children! Pack the girls! Get my electronic safe full of roofies…

“My cock is on fire!!”

“Shut up Jim, you never use it anyway”

“True, true. Thanks for that Dave, I always forget”

(Twenty minutes later)

Sorry about that, the feminists were bombing us again with their diesel dyke bombs.

Apologies while I put out the flames on my laptop and reboot my 1 terrabyte hard drive…

Ring ring

Ring ring

“God?” I murmur

“No it’s mom”

“Oh hey, what’s cracking, cracker?”

“Someone said your villa got bombed”

“Yeah it’s cool though, everything is alright”

“Is the…”

“Is the secret 1 terrabyte hard drive full of porn safe?”

“Yes that’s what I was going to say”

“Yes mom it’s fine”

“Ok cool catch you later. And remember Sean…no bitches after 11pm”

What a day, what a day…

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I must be honest I have been chilling around the pool at the villa the entire day and have not really accomplished much in the way of getting through my bottle of Wild Turkey American Honey. I have accomplished absolutely nothing with regards to this thing we call “work”, but this “work” thing is overrated anyway.

Alcohol, Sean and a pool – Dangerous combination

I bought this bottle of Wild Turkey American Honey a while ago and the first sip was like a dream. But the more I drank, the less I could drink, if you know what I mean. To those of you fairly well read, you will know that Hunter S Thompson liked the odd bottle Wild Turkey, obviously the original.

Wild Turkey American Honey is basically Wild Turkey bourbon mixed with pure honey, and you get a sweet first taste with a bourbon finish. Or is it the other way around?

I thought it would be a great thing for a boozy afternoon…by myself…covered in coconut oil…

But it’s not ideal. I mean, it is a liqueuer though and you are not supposed to drink the whole bottle.

One or two shots of this stuff is like magic though and you will enjoy it. But it is by no means something that you could have half a bottle of on one sitting. It’s just way too sweet. Why would you want to have more than half a bottle of anything in one sitting by yourself, I hear you asking?

Because that’s what I do. It’s my job. No more questions please.

I’m probably going to have to move onto gin and tonic as the day goes on and I need to cool down. A good ginto does my body wonders late into the day.

It’s quite thirsty work here at the pool but I must once again make it clear that there is a greater purpose going on here. What that is I’m not sure, as I had a bottle of red earlier in the day and I actually have no idea what I’m talking about. It’s Wednesday though so it’s the weekend for SLXS!

Are you going to FTV tonight?

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Those of you living in Cape Town won’t be surprised to hear this. Probably because you are so chilled from sitting on the beach drinking champagne and smoking spliff that it would take a bomb to make you blink.

Anyway, Cape Town will sit on the last green square on the Monopoly Board and will be the third most expensive piece of property of the game.

After voting earlier this year, Montreal scored first place, Riga came in second and Cape Town pulled a very impressive third.

Well done Cape Town! And thanks to Clayton for letting us know of the news.

This definitely deserves a celebration I believe! I will probably open a bottle of booze right now…

Probably American Honey.

Click HERE for more on the Monopoly World Edition and Cape Town.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Ok so this is a bit late, but I will probably still beat The Tatler to it, and my write up includes alcohol and women, so I win. We win. Game over.

My wingman visited me yesterday and asked me what on earth I was doing. At the time when he visited, I was not drinking (Weird) but there was a reason. For some reason, I bent Friday like a pole vaulter, ending up at Oblivion and trying to chat up chicks way out of my league (There aren’t many of those) and also trying to be suave, all the while dancing like a fat man on speed. Needless to say…I never came right.

I came left.

That was lame, sorry, as the article goes on, more wine will be in me and I will be a better writer.

So Charlie V visits and asks me why I never did the write up as promised. I assured him that I would, but I was drunk on Saturday and I would need to recreate the turmoil in my body to release the words. In other words, to write this article I needed to obliterate myself on the bottle. Which is what I’m doing. The reason I’m leaving it until late today to drink is that Friday was Oblivion, Saturday was a drinking marathon at the rugby derby at Bishops, followed by a stumble around Tiger Tiger and I topped off the weekend with a visit to Caprice on Sunday with Andy B. No small feat!

Well just to reassure you, I’m drinking now again, which is good for business.

I always had some sort of dream to go over the top at the final Bosch/ Bishops derby this year, and I knew I could supply a boat load of booze but that would not really be over the top for SLXS. That would be standard. So I devised a cunning (Why does that word look weird?) plan.

I remember having a party not too long ago where we bought a whole load of ice for the ice buckets, so I thought for the derby we should bring buckets of ice for the booze. But as much of my inspiration comes from Johnny Depp, Hunter S Thompson and Ronnie Wood, ice buckets seemed a little tame.

So I walked into I&J in Cape Town and bought 500 kilograms of ice.

Charlie V – Because parties don’t start themselves

We paid on the Friday and picked the ice up on Saturday morning in the Colt. I called people to tell them we had bought ice and were coming to Bishops in a blaze of glory. Friends laughed and said there was no parking and we were too late.

Don’t worry, I’m no fool. We had parked two cars behind the posts, but to the right early that morning. Like seriously early. Like the time most clubs close. So when we arrived, we simply moved those two cars out of the way, and reversed the trucks in! Genius!

We used Brendans Colt and then also enlisted the help of professional wakeboarder Andrew Bourne and the BOURNE2RIDE truck!

Andy B comes complete with a USN sponsorship, great success! USN USN USN!

We were there for about ten minutes before people started arriving, marvelling at our awesome display of excess. They also realised that we were way cooler than them, and they wanted to be like us. Unfortunately only the kings of excess were allowed to hang with us, while the commoners were kept away from the circle of cool. We let some girls in, kicked some others out and settled in for the day.

If you are reading this trying to find a rugby write up then it’s best you leave. I never watched the game, but I did watch some angels and I did have a drink or two.

The talent on display was something else and we perved mothers with tighter bums than their 12 year old daughters! I mean…not that I know what a 12 year olds bum looks like. Ask R. Kelly…

I sat on my perch, wondering if some of these mothers would perch on my pole. I wanted a mom on me.

Did you also see that? MOM. Mom On Me.

I wanted a MOM.

I thought though that I would start by trying to chat up someone younger than me, because younger girls always seem to dig the vibe of older, successful (Ummm…cough…cough…vomit) guys. So I threw out the vibe and reeled a little angel in:

Just discussing the name of our first child

“So you come here often?” I purred.

“Well no, this is a guys school”

“Cool. Cool”

End of conversation.

I was chatting to someone probably five years younger than me, and I had absolutely nothing to say! The most I could belt out, when I knew I had lost, was “Just touch it! Come on…do it for the feeling!”

I’m in such bad form at the moment that I can’t even come right with myself. All I wanted was a little kiss from someone at the rugby, but I got the kiss of intoxication. The drinking got underway when we were interrupted.

Some very stern looking coloured gentleman was watching over us. At first I thought he thought we were racist, and he wanted us to include more of a selection of colour into our team. If he had mentioned this, I would have let him know that we already had our token black guy. Enter Gary G!

Gary gives us tax cuts

Gary G is one of the funnier people you will meet, and the more drunk he gets, the funnier he gets. The peak of his hilarity is right before he chunders, where he shouts “Why don’t chicks dig me?” before showing us what he had for dinner.

We had about 30 of us at our “site” and this included people of all colour. I figured though, that if this guy wanted more coloured people in our team, we could just dilute Gary’s colour (Black) into all the white kids. We would then all be coloured, albeit a very diluted coloured colour.

Then some other guy arrives who is white, sporting a mullet of sorts and a very nice ‘tache. He spoke to us and said that if we sold any of our booze to anyone, everything we had would be confiscated. Jerry D assured him that we knew we were not allowed to sell booze because we did not have a liquor licence. Our mate owns a booze store though, so we are never in short supply of alcohol.

The Original Kings Of Excess

I don’t quite know why he thought we would sell booze. What is the point of selling confidence to other people, I mean, God knows I need confidence around women!

Skyy Vodka- Confidence, only bottled

Being the youngest of three, I have been known to avoid parties, women and alcohol altogether. This whole “rock star” image cultivated on SLXS is not true at all. I’m very shy and rarely go out beyond the confines of my gate.

Anyway, this guy was not happy with us, but he quickly calmed down when we cracked some jokes, and then I got chatting to him about parties and booze, and he told me that his son organises parties and that thing, and as I know a lot about parties we had a decent conversation that spanned I don’t know how long, but I did miss the entire rugby game. The coloured gentleman never spoke to me though, because he realised that with my token black guy, I was pretty much BEE by the book!

The cookfest got underway and seeing as though no girls wanted to touch my bratwurst, I had to go fool around with the chippolatas (Spelling?) I must state here though, that no girl has ever called it a chippolata. They usually refer to it as a T-BONE steak. Like Tommy “T-Bone” Lee. Similiar vibe going on with my pants party.

Maybe not the biggest…but surely the busiest

I never actually got hold of any of the mothers phone numbers, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to be slamming one of them in the back of a Hummer soon. You know…while little Timmy is strapped in the baby seat at the front.

I’ll probably be servicing it when I will get a call:

“You got T-Bone” I’ll purr, like I always do.

“You bugger!”

“Mom?”

“No, it’s God again!”

“Oh sweet…what’s up with you?”

“You’re smashing a mom while her son is in the front seat”

“So?”

“So it’s going to traumatise him you idiot”

“No don’t stress dude, we slipped him a roofie earlier, he can’t hear or see”

“Oh ok, no worries then. I’ll sms you later, we can go for coffee”

“Sick dude”

“Peace out. A-Town”

Look, there is quite a high possibility of that actually happening. I’m being serious, I never joke.

The day flew by in such a blur, that the next thing I knew, I was making an exact, to scale, sculpture of my main chap.

Ron Jeremy

“What baby?”

“That’s too cold for you?”

“Yes you sexy man animal, it’s too cold”

“You are saying my main chap is too cold, look at you! You’re like the friggin’ ice queen of Cape Town! Maybe if you smiled for once and didn’t always insist on eating at the finest restaurants and only drinking champagne or Red Bull, you would be a little warmer”

Apologies for that, some unresolved Cape Town issues.

I’m never quite sure how to end off these articles, which is why I don’t write actual magazine articles. What I can add here is that the Bosch/ Bishops derby is the best day in Cape Town, even if you don’t care about rugby, or even if you didn’t go to Rondebosch or Bishops.

The point of the day is to try and bag yourself a MILF.

The rewards of doing this are endless. Sure, you might break up a family, and you might have to foster one or two children, but these moms are rich. And money WILL buy you happiness. People who say money can’t buy happiness just don’t have enough money. It’s a fact that money buys you cool toys and houses, and has you dining at fine restaurants. Chicks dig this. Chicks then dig you. You get chicks. You get sex. Sex, money and champagne create happiness and that is a proven fact.

Think about it…carefree weekdays as you live off their husbands money after not signing a pre-nup. Full use of the Ferrari, laughing as you drive down Camps Bay strip on a Wednesday (Leave the kid at home during these drives) and knowing that you are tapping a fine piece of ass. Never having to work again. A champagne filled pool.

The kids are a hassle, but as soon as they are 10 you can send them to India or something to work on a rice paddy.

I’m thinking of either going into life coaching.

Or bagging one of those mommies.

Call me Jane, you saucy old minx you!

By the way, I banged a mom Bishops won
Sean Lloyd

Editor