Archive for December, 2013


Merry Xmas Ya Beautiful Basterds

Beautiful-Christmas-Tree-WallpaperChristmas will never, ever be the same for J-Rab and I because a year ago today, we were still reeling from the shock of finding out that we were going to be parents.

Crazy how the build-up to Christmas has brought all those memories flooding back. It was on the 18th December last year that our lives changed forever and if I think back on that time it makes my balls shrivel a little.

The Cub wasn’t planned so when we found out she was on her way, we both shat bricks for about 10 days straight, full of what I can only describe as Mortal Terror at the thought of becoming parents.

Now, one year later, things are a damn side rosier. Once your child is actually born and has become a physical thing in the world, you can start the process of figuring out what to do with it and how it works (or doesn’t).

Looking back, it’s been the happiest four months of my life, no lies. If I had to do it all again, I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

So anyway, I promised J-Rab I’d keep this short and sweet cause I gots me some Eggnog to make and then we’re hitting a Xmas Eve party at Graum’s place where (hopefully) our little one will go down at about 8 and let mom and dad have some fun, but knowing life, this will definitely not happen.

Before I go, I want to wish you guys a merry Christmas and say that though the posts may have dwindled over the past two months, you can bet your bottom dollar that the Tiger will be back in the New Year rested, rejuvenated and ready to kill everything he sees.

Until then, may the joyous spirit of Christmas fill you with child-like wonder as you spend this time surrounded by the people you love, eating too much, drinking too much and spoiling each other rotten.

Merry Christmas Party People Winking smile

Love from Your Tiger Pal,



One Of The Most Harrowing Videos I’ve Ever Seen

Base JumpIt really takes a lot to shock me. My poor, tired, old, twisted mind has seen so much unbelievably fucked up shit both on the interwebs and on occasion, in real life too, that I’ve become pretty desensitised.

So for me to call a video “harrowing”, you better believe it’s pretty intense sheeit. I watched this with absolutely no explanation of what I was going to see so that’s all the explanation I’m going to give you.

Don’t freak out though, this isn’t 2-Girls-1-Cup kinda fucked up, it’s just a very, very intense GoPro video of things going very wrong for someone. Watch in full screen for maximum impact.



Yoh. That part where he hits the rocky outcrop. You can almost feel his hopelessness as he approaches it. You know it’s coming, but you’re hoping he’ll miss it somehow and then BAM!

The base jumper in this video, Thayer Healey, apparently survived with a fractured vertebrae, stitches and back, wrist and hand sprains, pretty minor considering what he went through.

Wonder if he’ll ever base jumped again?

Knowing these crazy fuckers the answer is probably “yes”.



Escape Monday: Other Level Lego Advertising

FinalI work in the ad industry. Sort of. Without going into any detail, let’s just say the industry I work in is like Advertising’s ugly cousin who has to try twice as hard to get the boys but has “a lovely personality”.

Because we’re from the same family, I’ve sat in countless creative brainstorming sessions with Advertising listening to the utter shite that pours from her mouth like an overflowing manhole.

So when I see advertising done well, when I see a simple yet genius idea executed flawlessly, I smile inwardly because I know how many thousands of hours it probably took to come up with – like these amazing Lego ads for example.

Cast yer peepers over these beauties while I go write my heartfelt memoirs of how, no matter how hard I try please everyone, Advertising ALWAYS gets all the budget 🙁

















Those last ads especially are flippin incredible.

Well played Lego.

Well played.



Our Father

nelson-mandelaI found out late, probably around 2am when J-Rab checked her phone whilst feeding our baby girl. She turned to me and said the words every South African has known were coming for the last six months.

“Nelson Mandela has died.”

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the gale force winds of Vredehoek blowing the South Africa I have always known away.

I was six years old when he was released from prison. I was ten when he was sworn in as president. I was fourteen when his presidency ended, twenty when he retired from public life, twenty seven when he was first hospitalised. I am now thirty.

I don’t remember what I said to J-Rab when she told me, I don’t think much. I’m not sure what there is to say. She fed our cub in silence, gently laid her down in her cot next to the bed and soothed her back to sleep.

In the half light streaming in from the bathroom, I saw J-Rab wipe her cheek.

This morning I rose early to go to gym and experienced the first wave of media dedicated to him – it was the speech he gave at his inauguration – “Let there be justice for all… Let there be peace for all… Let freedom reign…”

The TV in the gym change room was showing a vigil in London attended by a handful of South African expats. I watched for a long time, other people gathered around the TV too, we didn’t say anything to one another, we didn’t have to.

I trained hard. The gym is my church, it’s the place I go to shut out the world, the first place I run to when I need to escape. I go deep into the darkness and it welcomes me as it always does with burning intensity and, for an hour or so, sweet oblivion.

But even in the throes of it, I couldn’t push the thoughts of this staggering loss out of my mind.

When I came back home, I found J-Rab trying desperately to sleep and our little one thrashing around joyfully in the bed next to her, burbling baby nonsense and smiling from ear to ear.

That was the hardest part of a day that I know is only going to get harder – seeing my daughter lying there, all of 3 months old, and knowing that she will never know a world in which Nelson Mandela is alive.

I’ll leave the biographies and the detailed stories of his life and tributes to the people who are better versed to write them.

All I know is that we lost more than a statesman last night, we lost more than a politician, more than a freedom fighter, more than a leader.

We lost a father, and my prayer for the sons and daughters he left behind is that we never forget the sacrifices he made for us, nor the hope he carried in his heart for the future of this beautiful, haunted country.

May the sun never set on so glorious a human achievement.