Archive for December, 2009


Goodbye 2009

I can never fucking remember which way around it goes. I mean, there was probably a time when I used to know this shit, and that’s probably why it stuck, but lately, man, who the fuck knows?

The idea is that you’re either an even year kinda person or an odd year kinda person. In other words, you either have good even years or you have good odd years.

When my buddy Stikey first told me this it had a great and terrible significance in my life. I remember at that point in my life (nearly 3 years ago) it all made sense, I could trace all the tragedies in my life back to even years and all the triumphs back to odd years, or was it the other way around?

I don’t fucking know.

All I know is that with each passing year the calendar of your life gets pockmarked with another tragedy or punctuated by another triumph and I guess after enough time, who can remember which years the big ones land on?

Also, who knows the significance of a triumph or tragedies until years and sometimes decades after they have passed?

I don’t fucking know. At times I like to think I know a thing or two about this life, but when I think carefully about that idea, I realise I know very close to fuck all about fuck all.

I wish I could make you smile one last time for 2009 and write a great blog post and a heartfelt send-off for 2009, but I can’t.

Sure, maybe it’s been a shitty year. Maybe that’s the big problem I’m having, trying to look back on a year that had more negative aspects than positive ones and trying to find the brightside.

And no, I’m not talking ‘I’m Mr Brightside’, I’m talking ‘Always look on the bright side of your life’, there’s a difference.

I’ll say this though. Thank you. From the bottom of my black heart, for reading this blog, you don’t know what it means to me.

I never understood how a world so full of people could be such a lonely place, but because of this blog and you reading it, my world at least, feels that much less lonely.

I hope 2010 brings you happiness, health and wealth. I hope it’s everything you could wish for and more than that.

Your buddy ‘ol pal,





A Horse With No Name

Maybe you exercise a lot, specifically cardio exercise, or maybe you’re just a person who lives in a lot of pain, I’ve experienced both and what I always found weird about going through a lot of physical pain is that the most random song starts playing in my mind on infinite repeat.

When I woke up from surgery this one time, it was that fucking America song ‘A Horse With No Name’. I swear to god that fucking song played in my mind over and over and over again until I wanted to scream.

For years afterward that song creeped me the fuck out. If I heard it anywhere my eyes would glaze over instantly and I’d be back in high care, grinding my way through it all. It’s not the pain that eats you up, it’s the helplessness.

Now I love that song because it has a special meaning for me. That desert is my desert, that horse with no name, I’ve named it a thousand times.



Isn’t it strange how dearly you learn to love the things that fucked you up the most?



This day can be summed up in a mere spattering of words

Ok, ready?

Here is today: wake up, watch Drag me to Hell with Action Jackson, get my ass handed to me in Smackdown vs Raw on the Xbox by Action Jackson, swim some, J-Rab comes home from work, I return the DVDs (we also hired The Boat That Rocked) and we make supper.

Guys, I’m not going to lie to you, nothing happened today. I made some headway on a script I’m working on, that’s about it.

BUT if you wanna know what I think about the two movies I saw, we can definitely go there:

The Boat That Rocked


A bunch of loud and unruly middle-aged dudes broadcast rock and pop from a boat anchored off England’s shores while the authorities try and shut them down. It’s a load of dung. If you’ve seen it, maybe you can help me with a few questions I have.

1. Why the fuck did they include the scene where the young guy on the ship nearly shags the chick the fat guy has waiting in the dark for him? How did that add to the story? Not at all as far as I could tell.

2. Why the fuck did they include the entire bit about Simple Simon getting married, then the two guys trying to out-chicken one another and eventually jumping off the masthead into the ocean? How did that add to the story? Another spectacular fail.

3. What was the story about? It sits squarely on the fence between a coming of age theme and the whole rebellious rock and roll theme (perpetuated by a cast of dudes who, like I said, are old enough to be your dad, what the fuck?)

4. What the hell did the young guy do on the ship besides just goof off with the other losers on the ship?

5.  Why the hell was the young dude so happy to get back with his love interest after she arrived on the ship and shagged the fat guy instead of the young dude because he took too long to get a condom? What a dirty little whore, I wouldn’t fucking want her after that.

6. Why were the bad guys so utterly ineffective and unthreatening in every way? They do two things throughout the movie to try and stop the good guys, the first is countered by the good guys instantly and proves totally ineffective and the second shuts down their whole operation.

I dunno. It felt lazy, it felt sloppy. If you liked this movie, I want you to watch the scene where the young guy sits down with the weather and news reader and the totally random other guy after the young guy has just walked in on the chick he was going to sleep with in bed with the fat guy.

Watch that scene and tell me what you saw, cause all I saw was a buncha total losers dunking biscuits in each other’s tea, eating the biscuits with naughty grins on their faces in a kind of ‘cheer up mate’ scene with not a word of dialogue.


Drag Me To Hell



Now this was an interesting movie, I’d recommend watching it if you’re a horror fan, but just be warned, the lead actress in it gets a LOT of shit in her mouth. Eyeballs, insects that get puked all over her, embalming fluid, fuck, you name it, she takes it right in the mouth.

Sam Raimi (director of Evil Dead and Spiderman) wrote and directed it and I really like the way he builds tension in the movie. It’s brilliant because his script is nice and lean and you know when everything’s going well and it’s all smiles and ‘Yay it’s over’ that it’s not fucking over and something even worse is just around the corner.

Now I’m indulging in a little more chillin to the max and then bedtime. Big day tomorrow. No idea why.

Later party people.



When you catch a Tiger by the tail, don’t fail…

There’s no way I would usually do this, but I’m bored and I feel like pulling the legs off insects for awhile.



So I wake up to this shitty, grey, cold ‘summer’ day, shuffle into the lounge, boil up some coffee, the landlord calls and says he’s coming over to do something or other in the bathroom, fine with me, I have no plans.

Then I open up my gmail and find that another douche has commented on my Killers Review (posted here and on the Moral Fibre site) and broken the previous douche’s record for ‘latest comment after nobody gives a fuck’ by, wait for it, 15 days!

In total this guy clocked in at 20 days after Vince posted my review, I think that deserves some kind of award in itself, but wait, it gets way, waaaayyy better.

This is the comment he posted:

Author: yousuf
MAYBE you’re stupid or maybe you’re just a paper Victim.
at any rate.
i can’t sit here and not reply to your travesty of justice which you call a review so here’s my opinion on your opinion.
ok before anything else let me just like agree with you on one thing: south african radio stations are shite. they stick to Human and like a couple of other tracks. Lol alright anyway

it’s quite the generalisation to say that s.a. audiences suck. you’re alas mistaken in that regard. i was standing about 5 metres from dave keuning and the collection of people around me, ranging from some random oldish people to like 12 year old girls, Everrrrybody was rocking out and knew most of the songs. perhaps you were just amongst the ones who didnt know much about the killers but then again, you know what they say about birds of a feather. 🙂

it may be, as you so cutely declare, "a fucking rock concert" but that doesn’t mean you can just push people around to  get to a better spot. if you actually perhaps maybeeee just gave a damn about the killers you would have arrived earlier to get a good spot?

then you say that they played "two totally obscure" tracks. slicktiger. "BLING" is not obscure but then again you don’t know much about the killers it appears, unless im mistaken, of course. but that doesn’t happen often. the second of the supposedly obscure tracks was Shadowplay  – alright i guess this is somewhat off since it’s just a cover by the killers but anyway it’s a decent song, though far from the top of my list.

and actually they did leave out a few important tracks.. i.e. the rest of the murder trilogy and also glam indie rock n roll would’ve been good

THEY DID NOT BUTCHER ‘SMILE LIKE YOU MEAN IT’. the version they did was bloody brilliant with ray on better than the original. gosh.

and then just when i was hoping you were going to spare yourself the embarrassment of continuing, you went to that place. by ‘that place’, i mean. saying. that. brandon. makes. the killers. UR SO STUPID HONESTLY. HAVE YOU NOT HEARD OF "BLUSH RESPONSE"? let me enlighten you. it’s the band monsieur flowers was in pre- The Killers. and so judgin by what you said, one would think "blush response" sounds the same as "the killers". but guesssssssss  what sunshineeeee.. it doesntttttttt… hence. ur wrong. Lol

lol just an aside: "you  heard it hear first"..? haha dude the rumour of brandon’s solo career has been goin around for at least a year. so like. dont steal somebody else’s opinion n try to pass it off as ur own Lol

dude lol if s.a. audiences are so shite, why was it that brandon had to raise his voice to be heard over the shouting fans? and like. why did he refer to the audience as having "such beautiful voices". do you know what i think? i think your head was too far up your arse to notice much. that’s what i think.

oh oh. to end this, let me quote the song you say means a lot to you:
"Save some face.. you know you’ve only got one.."


What a gem! I was so fucking excited getting this fucking comment I can’t tell you. All I could think reading it was fuck yeah! Them’s fightin’ words.

Let me start by saying yousuf, welcome to the site, hope you like it here, make yourself at home.

Oh, don’t mind the dog, he does that to everyone. BOGART! Down boy! Hahaha, he likes you. Just let him do his thing. Hahaha, good boy Bogart. You want a towel or something?

Anyway, I just wanted to sit down with you, and straighten things out cause I think you’re a swell guy and I think we should be pals.

But first let it just be said that despite whatever rumours you might have heard, I did not finger-bang your mom, or your sister that one time during a shift break they had behind the McDonalds in Alberton.

Those were lies, but I fully understand why you would react so dramatically to my review given that kind of history. I would have done exactly the same thing, maybe not in the same flowery language, but hey, that’s just because you’re still learning to read and that’s cool too.



The point I’m making here yousuf is not to take things too seriously, it’s a sure-fire way to end up alone, trawling the internet for outdated content to shit on in an effort to make yourself feel better about your shitty life.

Attacking someone anonymously over the internet is the most cowardly form of social engagement that exists, besides Facebook-stalking people to try and get a date or resigning from your job over email.

I bow to you, yousuf, and your extensive knowledge of The Killers and look forward to reading your review of the gig, but I’m not holding my breath yousuf, because you and I both know you don’t have the stones to be any kind of writer.

So how about this – you stick to sitting on your ass, jacking off and playing World Of Warcraft and mind your own fucking business and I’ll stick to the job of writing whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want.

Don’t let the door hit ya where the dog jizzed down your pant leg.



How to listen to the White Stripes

Buy every album they’ve ever recorded (which, in chronological order are: ‘The White Stripes’, ‘De Stijl’, ‘White Blood Cells’, ‘Elephant’, ‘Get Behind Me Satan’ and ‘Icky Thump’), throw them all into a playlist and play on shuffle for an hour.

People are so bitchy about them, but The White Stripes are a great band. There’s enough variation in the music they write to keep their sound interesting, and Jack White’s lyrics are a cool combination of insightfulness and inanity.



I’m kicking back with some White Stripes now spending the day swimming, eating mind blowingly good couscous salad (with bacon in there, avo, feta, rocket, chopped butter lettuce, salad dressing and baby Italian plum tomatoes), tidying the flat and playing Torchlight.

It’s the first day that’s actually felt like a holiday since I went on leave on Wednesday.

The weather has been better than perfect. Not a cloud in the sky or a breeze on the wind. Warm and bright and it feels good that J-Rab and I spent the day outside enjoying it and not cramped up inside like we do sometimes.



Tonight I’m thinking of going bowling. In the words of the Great Lebowski. ‘Fuck it dude, let’s go bowling.’

Later masturbators.



White Christmas

I thought about painting yesterday red, but decided not to, even though that’s the goal I set myself for the month of December.

Red December I called it. Red because I was going to post everyday so that by the time we get to the end of December, every day on my blog calendar would be red with an entry.



Well, every day except Christmas cause c’mon! I’m only human, and besides no one uses the interwebs on Christmas to read someone’s crazy-ass blog right?


But yeah, I have no idea where the hell to start writing about the last two days. The Christmas Eve party was quaint, but sadly there weren’t anywhere near as many young people there as I’d hoped, but the food was excellent and the wine was delicious.

J-Rab had to work for an hour yesterday, on Christmas morning which wasn’t ideal, but gave me just enough time to straighten the flat out, get some food and fry up a really killer Christmas breakfast of bacon, toast, fried eggs, fried tomatoes and basil and champagne and orange juice. J-Rab was suitably impressed but more than anything just wanted to open presents.



She spoilt the hell out of me, three new T-shirts, an electric toothbrush (my last one was possessed by a demonic spirit and would just switch itself on at 3 in the morning and not go off until the battery was completely flat, no shit) and most importantly, the 2GB iPod shuffle so I don’t have to listen to the techno remixes of ‘Castles in the sky’, ‘Like the Deserts Miss The Rain’ and ‘What is love? (Baby don’t hurt me)’ the next time I’m at gym.

I got her a garnet necklace and earrings that go well with her fiery auburn hair and I chose all my mom’s presents for J-Rab, so two new tops and the sexiest bikini you ever did see, hoo-wee!

After opening all our presents we headed to my dad’s house, opened more presents, swam and stuffed our faces with more delicious ham, potato bake, salad and Christmas pudding. And then! We napped, and it was good.

After we woke up, we headed over to War’s apartment in the early evening where his brothers Peggles, Wopna and Skatter and their significant others were rocking out with a cooler-box full of drinks and Guitar Hero Metallica.



It was an evening of much revelry. There were shots of Jagermeister, there were conversations had and clean forgotten and the opposite, a few conversations we wish we could forget. A tiny toy pom involved and stepped on once, and all the time, Metallica melted our faces off from a TV that was emitting enough heat to fry an egg on.

Also, you’ll be happy to know that I destroyed EVERYONE at Guitar Hero.

‘Fuck you!’ people said, ‘it’s only cause you play guitar in real life.’

‘Well, there’s the secret to it right there then, isn’t it?’ Haha, dumbasses.

What a fucking amazing game. I think I dreamed in Guitar Hero fret boards with coloured circles floating down them and me nailing them! Every one of them!

And it all started when the Japs (I think it was?) invented this massively overhyped coin-op game they called Dance Dance Revolution, who would have thunk it? All these years down the line it’s spawned Guitar Hero, possibly the most badass game ever created.

My crowning achievement was nailing the Metallica classic ‘One’ on medium with a tidy 71%. Sure, there are thousands of people out there who could kill a score like that without even breaking a sweat, but they’d need at least 4 or 5 practice runs – I did that by literally just picking up the guitar and playing the song.

All I can say is that when the solo for ‘One’ breaks, it really does feel like you’re at war. My nerves were shot to shit when I put the guitar down, it was the best gaming experience I’ve had in years, fuck yeah!



Today has been really chilled so far, poor J-Rab is back at work for an hour (for the emergency animals that need to be admitted), but before that we had lunch in Greenside at Mama Themba’s with the unwashed masses and as usual we weren’t blown away by the food, but hey, it was edible at least.

All I know for sure is that I’ve got a craving for sushi that is driving me nuts and I really wouldn’t mind curling up with a few DVDs tonight.

BUT… a man makes his way here as I write this. He’s crossed many miles of ocean to reach us and return a hero. Today he was supposed to make contact…

Excitin’ times 😉



Meeeerrrrryyyyyy Christmas!

It’s been a cu-razy year, but I feel like it’s been a good one and so, to get into the festive spirit of things, I decided to write a Christmas well wishing list of all the people that I think are badass, kickass and have sexy asses:

  • My beautiful, incredible, smart and sexy girlfriend, Jessica Rabbit. You mean the world to me babe, Merry Christmas 🙂
  • My parents for kicking my ass when I need it most
  • My amazing, strong and gorgeous sister who is a voice of calm and understanding when I need it most
  • My somewhat addle-brained but loveable brother who I really should speak more often too – sorry bro, you know how it goes 🙂
  • My nieces and nephews (Mark, Nicola, Robbie and Katie, Stephanie and Amy) that keep me young and remind me that there is magic still in this world
  • My  aunts and uncles scattered from Cape Town to Portugal, you guys keep me (in)sane
  • My friends, who are like brothers to me: Peggles, Wopna, War and Skatter, Stikey and Jacey-Got-The-Aceys, Rikki T, Millerkie, Van Barmann, Pooperoo, Action Jackson – you were the guys back there with me before we even got to the trenches, back when things were free and easy and in some cases I’ve known you for longer than I haven’t known you. For everything, thank you.
  • The fighters, the rock and roll booze hounds and Tambourine men and women of Grahamstown and Thereafter: Graumpot, The Glaze, Guitar Jon, Mr. D, Billy Pineapples, Barbarian! you crazy fuckers, keep the dream alive.
  • Tribeca PR: Irish, Ticklishious, Tree Poon, SheBoss, THE MAEN – GIMME A HUG CHARNA! Nix, EL GUAPO, RIGHT HERE (^5), Num Nums, Trishalicious, Lizeb and Ricora. You have to put up with me way more than most, and that’s pretty damn commendable just on it’s own, nevermind the fact that you guys are the best colleagues and friends I have ever worked with. Merry Christmas.

That’s it from me guys, have an awesome night, be safe, take care and meeeerrrrryyyyyy Christmas!





Christmas Eve and all is quiet…

The one thing you don’t miss after Christmas passes you by is shopping for and wrapping Christmas presents. There’s a lot of kak you have to go through to get everyone exactly the right present, especially when you’re fighting your way through hordes of zombified Christmas shoppers while R&B remixes of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’ pump out of every second shop window.



But the good news is it’s all done and now all there is left to do is enjoy the next two days, eat, drink and boogy on down.

Tonight we’re going to a nice and fancy Christmas Eve party at friends of my parents. My folks assure me it won’t just be fogeys attending and that the food will be excellent so I’m pretty excited about that. I’m just hoping it feels nice and festive for J-Rab, she’s missing her family like crazy and keeps saying that it doesn’t feel like Christmas with them in Boston and us in South Africa.

In other news, I finally got the first couple of paragraphs written for this epic work of fiction I’ve had bubbling in my mind for awhile now and I’m really happy with them. I love those moments when you sit back, admire something you’ve been working on and think to yourself, ‘Fuck, did I just do that?!’

It’s the first step down a road that will take thousands more steps before I get to where I’m going, but when I get there, you’ll hear all about it 😉

I’m belting out a separate post with Christmas wishes cause I’m a big softy like that.

Peace out party people and a meeeeerrrrrryyyyyy Christmas!



The Home Stretch

These are the twilight hours of 2009 in the office. Right now it’s only the Irish man and the Irish woman and me left.

It’s been a good year for our little company and I’ve been proud to be a part of this award-winning outfit of badass PRs. Nothing can fuck with us, there’s nothing we can’t PR, you name it, we’ll PR it and we’ll PR it well.

In other news, this is post number 91 guys, that means in another 9 fucking days we’re gonna hit post 100, hol-ee shitballs! I just used my advanced skills of a mathematician and worked out that that means post no. 100 will happen ON FUCKING NEW YEAR’S DAY!

Wow, that’s rad… except I think I’ll be so fucking wizasted I’ll be incapable of anything, possibly not even living.



I get these hangovers man, they come creeping up on me in slumber, close their evil claws around my brain, my internal organs and try squeeze the life out of me.

But I always come out tops. Slipping through the cracks, the guy who manages to just squeeze through the closing escape pod door as the spaceship explodes behind him.

I’m listening to Modest Mouse as I write this and I swear to God, ‘We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank’ is one of my all time favourite albums. Just fucking buy that album please, I’m not sure if we can stay friends until you listen to it.



In fact, I think what’s missing from this year is a post dedicated to SlickTiger’s most underrated albums of 2010. I might get onto that tomorrow. Today it’s 30 degrees outside and all I want to do is hit the open road with J-Rab, drive until we hit the coastline, strip down and jump into the ocean. Then lounge in the sun with a couple cold beers, stare at the sky awhile, think of sweet, sweet fuck all.

My Christmas shopping is about 80% complete, all that’s left to do is wrap everything, which is a total nightmare in itself.

I’m a pro at wrapping stuff up with bubble wrap. Give me 5 meters of bubble wrap and a mountain of product and I’ll work wonders, but normal wrapping paper? That shit is evil. Ask any man, he’ll tell you that getting that shit right is like trying to wrestle a pig lubed up to the max with axel grease.

It gets messy.

Also what’s fucking scary is that I’m getting glasses for Christmas from my old lady. Glasses guys. As in ‘four-eyes’ fucking ‘urkel’ god, how’d I get so old?



Actually I’m fine with getting old, as a man it’s much cooler when you get older cause you accumulate power and wealth, and therefore men have a way longer shelf life than women because of this.

Sure, there are exceptions to every rule, there are millions of women who become more powerful as they get older and are able to bag young hot guys, but they still have to be in kinda good shape. I’d wager that there are a lot more old, siff fat dudes dating 20 year-olds than the other way around.

Reason why is simple. Women are naturally attracted to powerful men because men like that offer security, wealth and a comfortable lifestyle. The uglier the guy the better in some cases because then the young hottie in question can really get her claws deep into him and control him more easily.

But I tell ya, for everyone of those young hotties that hooks up with a big fat rich older guy there’s probably a young, hot, poor dude in the wings who she’s banging. What do you think kept Europe’s royal bloodlines so strong over the centuries? It was the archers and castle guards and infantry men that the queens were shagging behind hubby’s back.

The world is governed entirely by one ruling principle and that is irony. You need to have a healthy sense of it to get by without losing your mind completely.

Laughter is all we got. You want to fight back against the tyranny and injustice of this world, learn to laugh.

I mean, even from a scientific perspective it makes sense. The world is ruled by opposing forces, we all know this – light dark, god and evil, blah, blah, blah. But we totally overlook the most powerful one, GRAVITY.

Fucking gravity, that relentless bastard, bearing down on us, working all the time, pulling us slowly toward the ground and our final resting place. It’s fitting that we bury people, it makes sense that eventually gravity drags you 6 feet under.

Morbid I know. So what’s the opposite of gravity? Levity, lightness and what’s the most powerful form of levity?

Laughter. It’s laughter. If you ain’t laughing, you ain’t living. It’s the only weapon we have.



Learn to laugh and the world will be a better place because of it.

Ok, enough philosophising from your tiger pal, I got a couple things to get done before I blow this popsicle stand for the year, but tune in tomorrow for more cu-razy shenanigans!



The first time I got arrested

There’s a first time for everything – your first kiss, the first time you shave (your face for guys, your vagine for the ladies) the first time you get laid and of course, the first time you land your ass in prison.



There’s nothing quite as exhilarating as not passing ‘Go’, not collecting 200 and going directly to jail. Sure, at the time it’s not fucking funny. At the time you pray that it’s all just a bad dream and you’re going to wake up any second and everything’s going to be fine, but (provided you survive with your anal virginity intact) afterwards it makes for a great story.

Me, I was 13 the first time I got arrested. I had a patchy adolescence because at around about 11 I became hellbent on doing everything I wasn’t supposed / allowed to, more so than normal kids I’d wager.

As a result I got into a lot of fucked up situations and was forced to grow up a lot faster than other kids who were playing cricket on the lawn and drinking lemonade with their parents while I was running away from home and getting fucked up on whatever I could get my hands on with my buddy Stikey in a Formula1 Hotel.

But that’s a story for another time 😉

Where was I? Oh yeah – so back in 1997 we had this buddy, we’ll call him Lardass, who was always telling us these big stories about how tough he was and all the crazy, fucked up shit he got up to (it was 95% lies, the truth was he spent a lot of time reading comic books, eating junk food and whacking off).



After a long weekend he comes back to school with this crazy story about how he spent an entire afternoon at his parents time share at the Vaal Dam smashing windows with rocks. He’d found this old rondawel (pronounced ron-dar-vel, it means a kind of circular bar / entertainment area) that had two stories and was made up entirely of windows on the one side and so, naturally, he decided to smash as many windows as possible.

None of us bought it at all. I mean seriously, how abandoned was this place that no one came running the second the first window was smashed? Didn’t the people who owned the rondawel get pissed off?

‘Nope,’ Lardass said, ‘there was no one for miles. I must have broken about 50 windows, just smashed them with rocks.’

‘Cool!’ we all chimed in.

‘Yeah, and some of them I just kicked in with my boot, I was wearing my Docs.’

‘Fuckin’ awesome!’

A couple of weeks go past and as we start approaching half term, Lardass invites myself and another buddy of ours, Millerkie, to go to his parents time share and smoke cigarettes and smash some windows, which sounded like the best idea any of us had ever had EVER.

When the big day finally arrived it was boiling hot. I remember making our way through the wild, dry veldt along a dusty path toward the abandoned rondawel, all of us wearing our black 12-hole Doc Martins with red laces, jeans and black T-shirts.



Yeah, we were those kids.

We lit a cigarette each as we surveyed the rondawel and sure enough, half the windows had been smashed so we figured it was fair game.

We armed ourselves with a few rocks and started pelting the windows. Lardass encouraged us to kick a few in, and it was while we were doing this that we heard someone shouting and looked up to see a black dude sprinting down the path behind the rondawel toward us.

We panicked and scrambled through the broken windows into the rondawel, which was probably the most retarded thing to do under the circumstances. It’s like running towards a burning building to escape the fire inside it.

Once inside we sprinted towards the opposite side of the rondawel and into the bathroom there. I figured the best way out of the pickle we were in would be to wait for the dude chasing us to run around the rondawel to the opposite side and then slip out the bathroom window and make a run for it.

Problem was my timing was completely fucking off. I hoisted myself out the window thinking the dude had already run behind the rondawel only to find him basically waiting right outside the bathroom window.


I tried to sprint off but the dude caught me and made me call Lardass and Millerkie out of the rondawel. The gig was up, we were royally screwed.

The black dude took us up to a nearby cafe and made us sit on the cold cement floor inside while he called the police.

As luck would have it, the cafe we were sitting inside had been broken into the night before and completely cleaned out and so naturally they pinned it all on us. Plus it turned out they were pretty steamed about all the windows Lardass has broken previously and (rightfully so) pinned that on us as well.



We waited for about an hour (pretty standard when dealing with our country’s finest) for the police to arrive, all of us crapping ourselves and envisioning criminal records, expulsion from high school and a slow and steady decline into drug addiction and male prostitution on the streets of Hilbrow.

This was in the time before any of us had cell phones and so the only opportunity we got to call Lardasses folks was after we’d already been hauled off to the police station in the back of a police van that smelt like something had puked itself to death inside it.

Luckily Lardasses mom was a really soft touch and was at the police station in under 10 minutes. After arguing for about an hour with various police officials, she finally got them to believe that it wasn’t us who broke into the cafe or smashed all the windows previously.

So basically all they could charge us for was breaking about six windows, which wasn’t really worth the effort.

However, this didn’t stop them from locking us in the most god awful cell I’ve ever seen in my life with a bunch of unwashed ogres that looked like they’d stab your eyes out for your shoes.

Luckily they pulled us out after about an hour. All I remember was squatting against the wall with Millerkie and Lardass while Lardass kept whispering how ‘this [was] exactly like Beavis and Butthead!’ and we kept telling him to shut the fuck up.



After they let us go, they asked us if we’d learned our lesson and we all swore that we had, but time has since proven that no, we hadn’t.

I’ve had at least four run-ins with the law since that day, but thankfully that’s the only time I’ve ever been hauled off. The rest of my ‘conversations’ with the fuzz have always been amicable even though in all four cases I was guilty as sin and had I actually been arrested, would have been in deep, life-changing shit.

The rule is simple. Be as polite with cops as possible. Come out all smiles and ‘evening officer’ and ‘yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir’ and in most cases you can get by with a few hundred bucks and a ‘I swear to god, I’ve learned my lesson officer, thank you’.

It’s not a ‘bribe’, it’s a ‘spot fine’ or an ‘admission of guilt fee’.

It’s all in the semantics I tell ya, never forget that. Obviously, first prize goes to never engaging in any kind of wrong-doing in the first place, but you know, and I know, that we’re only human and that rules were made to be learnt well and broken properly.

Words to live by 😉