Archive for the 'Events' Category


The Tiger Hits The Boileroom, Mayhem Ensues

WP_20140813_012 It takes a special kind of maniac to decide to strike out alone to a place he’s never been, drink with total strangers in the middle of the week and rock out to bands he only discovered a month ago.

Conventional wisdom would say rather stay at home, put the kettle on and watch Friends reruns but there’s only so much Earl Grey and David Schwimmer a man can take before he loses his fucking mind.

Bands In Town ( mailed me to say DZ Deathray were playing at the Boileroom in Guildford, so I got on the nearest train and, like a creepy public masturbator, went to go lurk at the bar alone.

Thing is though, two beers down the line I’d already befriended the bar people and Will the Sound Guy and while I was chatting to them this legend of a man by the name of Chris straight up invited me to join him and his buddies at their table outside.

How fucking friendly is that?! In an instant I changed from “Lone Guy Who Could Be An Axe Murderer” to “Guy At A Bar With Some Mates… Who Could Be An Axe Murderer”.

The first band up were Bypolar, a three-piece from Surrey who delivered an impressive performance. Frontman and guitarist Ben Lopez took to their setlist like a loose propeller, tearing through a formidable catalogue of post-grunge / hardcore punk / metal tracks like it was nobody’s business.



The man has a great voice and belts out an impressive gravel-toned roar reminiscent of Shaun Morgan from Seether. Drummer Chris Pattison is no slouch either and, together with bassist Steve Pool, builds a rock-solid rhythm section on top of which Lopez delivers his sucker-punch hooks and face-melting solos.

Here’s a recent video the guys shot for the track “Due” to give you a taste of what Bypolar’s serving up:



They ended their set with an insane cover of “Bullet With Butterfly Wings” which simultaneously blew me away and reminded me of just how many powerchords bands in the 90s used to pack into their songs.

I caught up with Ben after the band played and talked shit with him for awhile. He’s a stand up guy, ended up buying me tequila and shooting the breeze about the band and the scene in London.

Word to the wise – keep your eyes peeled for this band. Support them when they gig, give them a listen here ( and follow them on Facebook here.

After Bypolar finished up I grabbed another beer and talked so much shit with my newfound friends that I missed the second band completely, what a dick.

But there wasn’t a way in fuck I was going to miss DZ Deathray. You have to understand how insane these guys are. Take Death From Above 1979, throw in some Blood Red Shoes and add a heavy dose of sheer originality and explosive energy and you’ve got DZ Deathray.

Here, watch this video for their track “Less Out Of Sync”, I’ll let the music speak for itself:



Unfuckingbelievable right?!

To say that DZ Deathray came, saw, and annihilated EVERYTHING would be an understatement. By the second track (which happened to be “Less Out Of Sync” if I remember correctly), a mosh pit had already broken out and guys were losing their fucking minds.



On stage, guitarist and vocalist Shane Parsons wields his axe like a fifth limb, somehow managing to deliver a damn-near perfect performance despite the fact that he’s ricocheting around the stage like a piece of goddamn shrapnel.

Add drummer Simon Ridley’s shotgun-blast bass kicks and tight fills and it’s no wonder the guys in the pit were trying to murder one another.

The guys played an amazing set, building up to my personal favourite, “Gina Works At Hearts”.



Good luck getting that hook out. It felt good to lose my shit completely when the guys launched into that track. Dig those lyrics as well “I can’t buy her dead eyes and her wasted smile”.

There’s a real depth to DZ Deathray’s songwriting, they can do punch-your-teeth out thrash pop / post-punk just as well as they can do more introspective, shoe-gazing tracks like “Northern Lights”.

I caught up with both Simon and Shane over the course of the night and chatted a bit about their upcoming album launch for Black Rats, their second studio album following their 2012 debut Bloodstreams. Really cool guys, surprisingly chilled considering how manic they are onstage.



Simon’s sister Katie actually directed “Less Out Of Sync”, which I was mad impressed by. That is one talented family, no lies.

So yeah, what you need to do now is have a listen to Black Rats here, follow DZ Deathray here and get your ass to The Shackwell Arms on Monday night (18th Aug) for the official album launch because it’s going to be shit-your-pants mad.

All-in-all, I had the best night. Telling Schwimmer to get fucked and throwing the Earl Grey down the sink was the best move I could have made.

Shout out to Soundguy Will for giving me a ride back home. Next time I swing by the Boileroom, first round’s on me big guy!

Tiger out.



Team Tiger Saves Balls

DDR5We did it okes. Team Tiger And The Buff Charnas got together for a good cause and ran for our balls at the DAREdevil Run 2013. To all the ous who joined Team Tiger, you charnas are LEGENDS!

In fact, to all the ous who ran the DAREdevil Run in Cape Town, you are the BUFFEST ous in the land. To go out their in a red speedo and run up and down Seapoint promenade getting wolve whistles takes BALLS.

I must say though, the actual RUNNING part was a flippin’ weird sensation for me. After 10 minutes it was like a ou was pouring flippin BATTERY ACID into my legs, yirre!

But anyway, I finished and had a jol whilse raising awareness for cancer and saving my balls and the balls of others. Here are some pics of me and the BUFF ous from TEAM TIGER:






Big shout out to the event organisers for actually taking a stand for a serious cause instead of just growing a flippin pervert traffic cop moustache on your lip because you’ve always wondered what you’d look like as a pervert traffic cop.

Keep on klapping it okes!

Until next time.



Today’s The Day We Run For Our Balls, Boet

DaredevilsIn history, ous remember the heroes. They remember the 300 charnas with lekker six packs and red cloaks kicking other ous down a hole because they don’t know that that was SPARTA.

They remember that GLADIATOR oke what told ous to unleash hell and then MOERED THE KAK out of any charna dumb enough to try his flippin luck.

And they remember that Titanic oke, what got Kate Winslet (BELTER) to show us all her boobs when he painted her like one of his French Binnets and then froze to death in the flippin sea because he was a gentleman and wanted her to float on the door by herself.

And then they remember ous like us who, having never trained legs in like, TEN YEARS, put on tiny red speedos and ran for our balls (and the balls of others).



Today is the DAREdevil Run 2013 where me and a entire TEAM of the BUFFEST CHARNAS IN THE LAND are going to fight our own battle, a battle against the terrible disease of CANCER.

Our weapons in this fight are going to be AWARENESS, ENCOURAGING TESTING and of course our flippin HUGE GUNS.

So if you’re sitting around today and don’t have plans at 3.30 this afternoon – come to the Hamilton’s Sports Club in Seapoint and either take part in the run (actually better if you ous come at 2.30 if you wanna run, so you can get parking and kak) or just support if you dig seeing lank okes basically naked in speedos, some of which are MASSIVE AND RIPPED (the okes, not the speedos).

Because I’m like, still not actually sure of exactly who all the BUFF CHARNAS in Team Tiger are except for my main man Big Daddy Savage, I’ll just be handing out TIGER BUFFS to BUFF TIGERS who will then get to start the race first with me – KLAPPING IT!

So see you ous there!



Join Team Tiger And The BUFF CHARNAS And Run For Your Balls

DDDR_3_Medium_280_210_80auto_sI once rote in the SlickTiger Guide To Klapping Gym, Boet that in a gym situhation, a oke is NOTHING without his charnas but in a LIFE situhation, a oke is NOTHING without his balls.

A oke’s balls contains all his POWER. Think about it, what is in balls? SPERM, boet! And what is in sperm? PROTEIN, boet! And what does protein make? MUSCLES, boet!

So what does a oke need to seriously klap it on a other level? BALLS, CHARNA! It’s time to catch a flippin WAKE UP, you gotta look after your balls and THAT’S why you’re gonna join Team Tiger And The Buff Charnas and run for your balls in a red speedo.

That’s right ma boychays – the DAREdevil Run 2013 is happening again in Cape Town not this Friday, but next (8th Nov) and I’m entering a team of buff charnas who care about their balls and the balls of others to run with me along Seapoint Promenade in red speedos in the middle of the afternoon.



Because I know some of you are a bit dof, here’s 8 good reasons to join Team Tiger And The Buff Charnas:

1. You get a BUFF!

In flippin TIGERSTRIPES! That you can keep for LIFE and that will always show other okes that you are a BUFF CHARNA who runned to raise BALL AWARENESS.

2. You start at the front of the race!

That’s right, you heard me. Team Tiger okes get the VIP treatment and start the race right at the front, how flippin BUFF is that?!

3. You get to look TIT in a red speedo in public!

Think about all those weights you’ve been klapping, now it’s the time to show ous some RESULTS boet! The BELTERS love a oke in a budgy-smuggler who is MASSIVE AND RIPPED with a schweet tan running down the road. Take your muscles for a lekker jog ma boych, nothing wrong.

5. You never have to train legs again FOR A YEAR!


Look, I’m not big on training legs. My legs workout is EVERY DAY when they carry my MASSIVE UPPER BODY around the place. But ja. Okes say legs training is important or some kak.

At just under 5kms, the DAREdevil Run is the perfect length for a buff gym charna like yourself to finish without his heart exploding while still getting a schweet leg workout.

5. You could be saving not just your balls, but your LIFE

A lot of ous around the world lose their balls or worse because of cancer or they get cancer of the prostrate because they never check themselfs because they still think that you must let a ou slip a digit up your poephol to check if everything’s ok up there.

I’m here to tell you ous that this is 2013 charna. Ous have invented flying cars and flippin robots from the future that look like Arnold Schwartezeneggra, you seriously think you still need to let some ou in a rubber glove fiddle with your naught? Boedie, this isn’t Bronx on a Saturday night.

No, just a tiny finger prick for a drop of blood will tell you if you must worry or not and just doing that once a year can save your balls AND your life.



Those are my reasons okes, so now that you’re read them and want to join Team Tiger And The Buff Charnas, this is what you must do.

Are you listening closely? Flip man, CONCENTRATE oke, I’m only going to repeat this once.

Ok. Here’s what you do.

STEP ONE = REGISTER FOR THE RACE BY CLICKING THESE WORDS (it costs R100 including your flippin TIT red speedo).


Got that? That button just up there, click it and you will automatically be part of Team Tiger And The Buff Charnas.

How flippin’ easy was that?!?



On the other hand, if you aren’t a Twitterer, just write YOUR NAME in the comments to join Team Tiger. Just YOUR NAME boet. If you get stuck, check in your wallet, I usually find that helps. Or call your mom, she’ll know.

Closer to raceday I’ll tell you BUFF OUS where to meet to get your schweet TIGER BUFFS.

In the meantime register, join Team Tiger and let’s be BUFF CHARNAS who care about their balls and the balls of others together.




The Tiger Hits Up Nothing But Trouble, Has Insane Night

1016737_584734421549850_1621447191_nSo last week I told you guys all about the Nothing But Trouble white collar boxing event that was going down at Sideshow on Saturday which promised to be the sickest night imaginable.

Combine a 1920s prohibition theme, badass amateur boxing, big ticket sponsors and the fact that my man Big City fought like a flippin’ CHAMPION and you have all the makings of a seriously killer time.

Also, don’t forget the whisky. Never forget the whisky. It flowed like sweet nectar and resulted in me getting home in the wee hours only to pull my weathered edition of William Blake’s Complete Works off the shelf and start reading The Proverbs Of Hell to J-Rab at 2am.

Because why? Because the Tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction motherfucker, and don’t you forget it!

So yeah. Things may have gotten a little weird at the end there, but it all started out innocently enough. To reconstruct the evening, here are the only images I’ve managed to track down. They’re packed to the max with branding (sorry about that) but I feel bad cropping it out so just bare with me.

The Beginning

The beginning of the night can be nervy. Especially when you’re hitting up a dress-up party because you never know if the people going got the message or not.

My main man Peggles just had a rad hat, whereas I’d gone full retard in a suit-and-tie, suspenders and shiny brothel creepers.

Thankfully as we arrived we were greeted by these brass band mofos klapping a little bit of swing and a whole buncha ous lingering by the downstairs bar dressed to the motherflippin nines.




I immediately relaxed, sauntered over to the bar and ordered an overpriced craft beer whilst Peggles surveyed his surroundings with a vague “shoulda suited up” look, but he’s not a man to sweat stuff like that.

Besides, the golden rule of dress-up is that there will ALWAYS be charnas who just plain didn’t get the message like nervous-looking-black-T-shirt-and-jeans guy:



But enough of that namby pamby bullshit. Who cares what anyone looked like, we were there to drink and watch ous MOER each other.

The fights lasted three rounds each (2mins per round) and no official winner was declared at the end of that time. As they explained at the beginning, everyone was a winner for taking part and helping to raise money for the Dare To Share charity.

Obviously, if a fighter got knocked down or knocked out, then he / she had clearly lost, but otherwise it was left completely up to the crowd to decide on a winner.

First up were the girls KO Katie vs Angry Bird Soandso. I was pretty hopeless at catching any names of any fighters on the night and, as the whisky flowed, even managed to miss some fights completely, but the first one was pretty memorable.

To put it bluntly, it was the gutsiest brawl I’ve ever watched two women fight.



Both women came out guns blazing but even though Angry Bird Soandso had the height advantage, KO Katie lived up to her name and let loose a flurry of blows that were a testament to not only her natural born instinct to murder the shit out of shit, but also her impressive fitness.

Sure, she started to wind down in the third round, but there was no question in this Tiger’s mind as to who had been owned by who (whom?).



The Middle

Ok, I’m not going to lay any claims to being a credible source of information from from this point in the story on. I was a good couple of beers and whiskies in and my attention span was about 45 seconds long so I missed the fighters names and, after three fights, was starting to confuse one fight with the other.

The men were up next and I must say, I was well impressed with the level of skill these guys showed considering none of them had fought before and the fact that they’ve only been training for three months.



Fists flew, the crowd cheered like mad, a good couple of skull-rattling blows landed and the manic energy in the place increased with every fight.

Then came the half-time show which featured a belter with big feathery things dancing all sexy in the ring and further riling up the already boozed and severely riled-up crowd.



I do however remember Craig The Viking Stack and Fake-Tattoo guy’s fight after intermission, but only because shit got so dirty in their fight that they were basically tackling one another to the floor while the crowd roared for blood.



It was a pretty violent fight, hats off to both fighters for going into the ring with a lot of guts. Definitely rates up there as one of my favourite fights of the night.

BUT the best fight by a country mile was when my main man Mike Big City Bullard went up against Andrew Don’t-Remember-His-Rad-Nickname Wood.

It was the stuff fucking LEGENDS are made of. Round 1 both fighters came out swinging. Big City had the obvious size advantage and landed some fucking hard blows, but Don’t-Remember-His-Rad-Nickname wasn’t taking that shit lying down. The man was fit as hell and able to weather Big City’s blows into the second round when things took a bad turn for Big City.



Round 2 was a bloodbath. Don’t-Remember-His-Rad-Nickname came out fresh as a daisy. Big City on the other hand was starting to wear out.

Bar a few meaty hooks and jabs that he landed, Big City spent most of round 2 getting his ass handed to him and then took a suckerpunch right in the kisser after the bell had sounded for his trouble. In movies they call this “The Long Dark Night Of The Soul” – it’s when the hero reaches the point in the story when he’s completely fucked.

The bell sounded for round 3 and it looked like it was going to be more of the same. Big City caught some nasty blows and had to keep readjusting his head-guard so he could see what the fuck was going on. He was putting up a brave show, but the man was tired, another minute and it would be all over.

But Big City had other plans. After a standing count in which he truly looked as though he was ready to call it, he squared up and threw everything he had into a devastating left-right combo that dropped Don’t-Remember-His-Rad-Nickname like a sack of hammers.



The fight was nearly called off, but to his credit Don’t-Remember-His-Rad-Nickname got back up and saw it through to the end though the crowd had clearly already chosen a clear winner.

CORRECTION: The fight WAS called off, Big City knocked him down and they called it.

True guts, true glory. Big City let loose with the Noon Gun and that was all she wrote.

Sheer fucking poetry Winking smile

The End

The last fight of the night was a whole other level of barbarism. I have no idea who was up there, what their names were or even what my name was. All I know is there was blood and lots of it. The crowd lapped that shit up as things reached a fever pitch.

After the fighting, DJs tore up the decks and we got stuck into the sauce good and proper.

I vaguely remember a number of conversations that felt far more important than they probably were with a whole bunch of people I’d probably apologise to if I could remember who they were or what I’d said.



It was just a killer night. One of those rare occasions that lives up to and exceeds expectations on every level.

If this happens again my only advice is suit up and go. It’s an awesome idea and a guaranteed good time any way you look at it.

Kudos to everyone who made it happen and see ya’ll at the next one.



White Collar Prohibition Style Boxing Hits Cape Town

Nothing But TroubleThere’s this guy I work with, name’s “Big City”, comes into work one day and says, “I’m a boxer now. My opening fight’s on 13th July. DJs and shit will be there, it’ll be rad.”

He had me at “I’m a boxer now” because isn’t that every man’s dream? Get into a ring, mano-e-mano and duke it out like our forefathers and their forefathers have been doing in some form since the dawn of man?

The event’s called “Nothing But Trouble” and it features 7 bouts of amateur, White Collar boxing all in aid of the “Dare To Share” charity. It’s going down this Saturday (13th July) at Sideshow (previously The Fez) and it’s gonna be sick.

There’s also a whole 1920s prohibition theme to the night, so think Boardwalk Empire / Great Gatsby style only the booze will be totally legal.



A bunch of cool brands like Boston Breweries, Kopparberg Cider, Bains Cape Mountain Whiskey and Monks are on board, so we sure as hell won’t go hungry or dry.

Throw in DJ James Copeland with his signature strong swing flavour, a prize for best dressed and a buncha White Collar mofos sluggin it out in the ring and you have all the makings of a pretty radass night.

Here are the official details:

Date: 13 Jul 2013
Time: 18:00 until late
Venue: Side Show
Location: 11 Mechau Street
Price: R150p/p
Phone: +27 (0) 76 797 5579

See you crazy cats there. Oh and remember, if the bookie comes around, Big City’s your man Winking smile



Free Comic Book Day 2013 – A Whole Other Level Of WTF

FCBD1I’ve become a Free Comic Book Day regular over the past three years. It takes place on the first Saturday of May at Reader’s Den at Stadium On Main and holy shit it’s amazing.

You get different levels of comic book geeks. It probably starts with guys like me who’ve read a bit of this and that, like the medium and go out of curiosity and you get the types you’re about to see in this post.

Free Comic Book Day happens at comic book stores all over the world and is a way to create awareness around comic books and most importantly get people reading them, which I think is a worthy cause.

Like I said, this year was my third FCBD here in Cape Town, so I was used to the odd person rocking up dressed as Wolverine or some obscure anime character only a handful of people could probably identify, but this year people lost they damn MINDS!



If I could hazard a guess, I’d say there were probably 50 – 60 people dressed up in cosplay gear, it was flippin INSANE.

In terms of size, this year’s FCBD was easily twice as big as last year, which was great to see. I might not be as into comic books as some of the other guys there, but I still fully support them and agree that more people should be reading them.



The craziest thing about this year’s FCBD though was the fact that instead of tables and tables of discounted comic books and graphic novels being set up in the circular courtyard outside Reader’s Den like they’ve had the past two years, they cleared the space and used it as a stage for groups of extreme cosplay geeks to do dance routines (?).

How flippin weird is this shit:





At first I thought it was pretty cool. I mean it’s impressive (and a little bit sad) to see effort these people put into their costumes and dance routines, even though most of them will probably end up…



But then when I realised they’d included this at the expense of the aforementioned tables stacked with discounted graphic novels I was a bit miffed.

Because of this, the only way to lay your hands on a comic book or graphic novel was to either cue for your free comic book (a matter of about 15 minutes) or cue to get into Reader’s Den itself (a matter of about an hour and a half).

I’m not saying do away with the cosplay dancers, but next year they need to figure out a way that we can have both the tables and the dancers. I mean fuck it, let’s just combine the two and have table dancers!



Anyway, all in all it was still an awesome day and I got some killer pics like this one with my buddies Spiderman, Rorschach and Iron Man.



And the holy grail of geeky pics – Wonder Woman and Super Woman AT THE SAME TIME.



So definitely check out next year’s FCBD at Reader’s Den and put some thought into your radass costume and dance routine ok?

Great. Glad we had this chat.



SlickTiger And The Terror Island #5GumExperience

2012-10-27-132Shit guys. I don’t even know where to start with this one. I think I’ve thought up about a hundred different ways I could slice this post, but it would all be lies I tell you. Shame-faced lies.

Which is probably the route I should take here because if blogging has taught me anything, it’s to never, EVER abuse the freebies you get by being too honest (Synergy review, I’m looking at you…).

But unfortunately in this case I don’t really have any other option. I love you 5Gum, I think you guys host killer events and look forward to all your parties and telling everyone I know about them, but yeah. I botched Saturday’s party completely so please forgive me for what I’m about to write…

It all started at about 2.30 in the afternoon last Saturday. The sun was shining, the weather was sweet and J-Rab and I were hitting up a good buddy’s 30th birthday party.



Soon after arriving, I realised that I was the biggest ou at the party by a country mile which is a very bad thing because without the threat of someone bigger than me putting me back in my place if I get a little rowdy, well, I get a little rowdy.

So I began putting the double whiskies away like nobody’s business and administering life to the party like some kind of human defibrillator.

Sure, I might have been a little douchey, but at this stage I was still on the level so a great time was had by all until we had to duck out at 6pm to start getting ready for Terror Island.

The tickets we had said dress Halloweeny and the party was called Terror Island, so naturally my drunk-ass brain put two and two together and was like “PIRATE!”



But my brain was like: “No… That’s not Halloweeny enough…”

Which of course lead to: “GHOST PIRATE!” and me spending the next hour in the bathroom with these Bostick face-paints we had leftover from the Soccer World Cup, trying to do my make-up like some sad, sorry, drunken clown getting ready for a 6 year-old’s birthday party.

J-Rab came in half-way in to find out what the hell was taking me so long with the white stick of face-paint and as I turned to show her the killer job I was doing of turning myself into Carolyn Manson (Marilyn’s lesser-known cousin), what was left of the white stick of face-paint fell out of its lipstick-like holder and plopped into the loo.

In a flash I was elbows-deep in that basterd to save the white face-paint (don’t worry, J-Rab and I are meticulous flushers so there was nothing dodgey in there) which I did and um… dried it off and um… why am I telling you guys this?!?!



Anyway, we got our shit together and cabbed it to Grand Central for the big party only to realise that maybe 20% of the people at the party actually made an effort to dress up.

Not that I gave two shits at that point. I was a GHOST PIRATE MUTHUFUKKAH! Shiver me muthufukkin’ TIMBERS, BITCHES YEAH!

That’s the closest approximation I can give to what my internal dialogue sounded like at that point. It was 7.30.

We were eventually shown the way to go to the #5GumExperience which involved walking past a gigantic taxi rank on our left ripe with the smell of old urine.

It added perfectly to the terror J-Rab was feeling at this point and rightly so. Her knight in shining armour had been replaced by the village drunk who would have been as effective as a balloon sword in a knife fight if any shit went down.

Luckily none did though and the evening started off really well as J-Rab and I befriended all the crazy party people who had also gone all out to dress up in the Halloween theme.

Which resulted in the following pictures:





By my estimate we probably jammed with the people in the pictures above for about two hours, after which point I headed to VIP to say WAZZUP to THE MAEN!

At this stage, I think I’d drunk about three quarters of a bottle of whisky over a 7-hour period. I was gone daddy gone. Then this picture happened, apparently:



After that we headed to the main stage where someone was playing.

I got down on the dancefloor (READ: flailed my limbs around like a frog in a blender) until I had cleared a sizeable circle around me, then I schloomfed off with J-Rab to get some food, then I ate that food in a terrifying massacre of melted cheese and salami and then I felt like a nap so we went home.

It was hands down the worst attempt at rocking out at a gig since I went to watch Saron Gas when I was 17 and had five tequilas and about 10 Redds (Redds! Hahahaha!) before we’d even arrived.

Twenty minutes after we arrived I proceeded to smash my head against a low concrete ceiling on the upstairs balcony at The Doors in Edenvale which scrambled my brains so badly I staggered inside, puked on the actual bar, was promptly thrown the fuck out and had to be driven back home with all my buddies because we’d shared a car to get there.

Fun times.



To the organisers of the Terror Island in CT, I am truly, deeply sorry. It’s not my style to be the guy so blitzed he can’t remember if he had a killer time or not and you have my word if you guys throw another one, I’ll at least show up sober like a normal human and actually write a decent event review.

At this point, I’d be hugely grateful to anyone, anyone at all, who can jump onto the comments section below and tell me how Terror Island actually was.

There’s a lesson to be learned here kids. NEVER put on face-paint that’s been in the loo. It instantly becomes toxic I tells ya!

Face –> palm.



The Tiger Hits Up The Windows 8 Launch – Gets Treated Like Royalty

WP_000199One thing is for sure when it comes to a company like Microsoft, they spare no expense when launching a new operating system.

Last week Thursday I was flown up to Jozi, put up in the Hyatt Hotel in Rosebank and transferred to the venue for the launch, a studio in downtown Jozi where free food and drinks flowed in abundance.

From the minute I stepped foot into Cape Town International until I returned exactly 20 hours later, the logistics of my trip happened like clockwork, which I know from organising similar events is no small feat.

However, it’s a fine line between communicating all the features of an OS like Windows 8 in a fun, interactive way that illustrates the actual benefit the product will have in people’s lives and dragging the formalities on for so long that your audience mentally checks out.

And that is really my only gripe about the entire evening, the formalities went on for a very, very long time and at times I could feel the audience zoning out a bit. A steady supply of alcohol would have solved this problem.



Kingsley Holgate was the master of ceremonies and I must say, the guy is a born entertainer and story-teller and made a great MC considering the whole evening was African-themed from the animal-skin-wearing jembe drummers at the entrance to the gigantic baobab tree under which all the speakers addressed the audience.

So no issues there, Kingsley was awesome and after the formalities had ended I went and chatted with the guy for about half an hour and found him to be a genuinely fascinating, humble and approachable person.

Check out this pic of your Tiger pal and ol’ K-Hol as I like to call him:



Kingsley was joined onstage by Lebo Mashile, who regaled us with her poetry and co-hosted the event. From what I could tell, she basically memorised her entire speech which, considering the formalities lasted for about an hour and a half, was no small feat.

Kingsley and Lebo went through the ritual of bestowing “African totems” upon the various speakers, inviting them on stage and interrogating them about how Windows 8 has changed their lives.

I kept waiting for the moment when “Circle Of Life” would come blasting over the AV as Kingsley held Windows 8 aloft on a fibre-glass replica of Pride Rock, but sadly it never came.

Instead the following SA celebs came up one-by-one (the word in brackets is their totem):

  • Chad Le Clos, Olympic swimmer and gold medallist (dung beetle. Hahahaha!)
  • Sibusiso Vilane, mountain climber (leopard. Legit)
  • Reuben Riffel, celebrity chef (elephant. Because, you know, elephants are the Master Chefs of the animal kingdom)
  • Fee Halstead, ceramic artist (sunbird. Also legit)
  • Gregg Marinovich, photographer (fish eagle. “Look. Dad. A. Fish. Eagle.” “Where. Son? I. can’t. see. it.”)
  • Ridwan Mia, plastic surgeon (umm… shit… I think I’d blacked out by this point…)
  • Dance You’re On Fire, SA band (same…)

It was a a cool idea for the launch – actually demonstrate in a real-world situation how these SA celebs use Windows 8 and what value it brings to their lives.

Chad and Gregg were my favourites because they came across as 100% genuine and got lots of laughs from the crowd. Especially Chad who showed us his contact list on Windows 8 with hilarious entries like “Brony Hot”.



As for the operating system itself, Windows 8 is nothing short of a complete re-invention of Windows and from a multi-media / social perspective it looks like a massive improvement on Windows 7.

The interface is built using a series of customisable tiles, much like the current batch of Windows Phones.

Everything is streamlined to be neat and is intuitively organised so that all your content is easily accessible and shareable.



It’s also built to work across a variety of different mediums including phones, tablets, desktops and laptops. In fact, all the speakers at the launch demoed Windows 8 on their respective tablets with mixed results.

It very quickly became apparent that some speakers had more experience using the OS than others, one of whom (who shall remain nameless) was unable to get past the password screen and unlock his device. Awkies.



From my experience using the Nokia Lumia 900, I think Windows 8 is going to be a game-changer for Microsoft and I can’t wait to get stuck into the copy of the OS I got at the launch so I can write a more in-depth review.

Once the formalities were over, Dance You’re On Fire stepped up to rock out and played an amazingly tight set despite the fact that frontman Tom Manners was singing with a fractured rib after a nasty fall he took a few weeks back when he was cycling.

After that I went to chat with The Chad and also found him to be a very cool, very friendly guy. He was more than happy to pose for pics and chat with the guests at the launch and I enjoyed getting to know the ou. He’s a stand-up guy, no doubt about that.



So there you have it. All-in-all I had a flippin’ radass time at the Windows 8 launch and I think the OS itself is going to make huge waves around the world.

What’s also cool is that if you bought a Windows 7 PC between June 2nd 2012 and January 31st 2013 you can download Windows 8 Pro for an estimated retail price of R130.00 (exchange rate dependent) with the Windows Upgrade Offer, available at

So jump on that party people and let’s Windows 8 the shit out of shit!



The Tiger Rocks The Daisies Chapter 3: The Saturday, The End

IMG_2257Phew! What an epic festival review hey Party People? Christ, feels like all I’ve been posting for the last two weeks is Daisiesdaisiesdaisiesdaisies.

Time to wrap it all up with my Saturday post and then I promise you’ll not hear anything more about this festival until next year rolls around.

Like the day before it, Saturday morning was a hoot. Myself, Peggles, Barbarian and Spu spent it all chilling together while the girls hit the Daisy Den which took at least about two hours, just enough time for us to smash a couple beers and ease ourselves into the day.

From there everyone got all Tiger-striped up and we went to actually explore the festival and try to catch some bands.



We started by checking out the Hemporium stage where Little Kings were playing the most chilled out set you could ever imagine. I liked this band a lot, they just had this great vibe about them, very loose and easy breezy but great songwriters and performers, all of them.

This is what that looked like:



After that we met PURPLE MAN! Well, if by met PURPLE MAN I actually mean watch a man in a purple morph suit walk casually into the dam, then ya.




Once we’d finished laughing and taking pics of PURPLE MAN, I finally hit the media lounge for the first time at the festival where I had an ice cold Red Bull, ate some kind of cranberry / cereal snack thing and contemplated using one of the laptops there.

Next time. I swear I’m blogging from Daisies next time…

Next stop was the beach bar, which was PUMPING! On the way I ran into some proper BOYCHAYS and this happened:



I don’t remember how long we stayed there, but eventually we decided to hit the road when the people there started tweaking out and tried to fingerbang each other’s nostrils.



At the main stage we half-heartedly watched a band before deciding to wander over to the lemon tree theatre where we caught our good buddy Dylan Skew’s set which, again, had all of us literally in tears.

That guy is my favourite South African comedian, hands down. I swear, it’s like he’s read my mind, found the funniest, most random thoughts and made stand up out of it.

Hats off to that man. His material is seriously amazing.

Then we met these guys in lumo vests with camel packs who, judging from this picture, loved the shit out of me.



After that, we went back to the main stage to listen to some more bands I don’t remember and J-Rab met Bob, who she instantly fell in love with.



The temperature started plummeting pretty soon after that so we went back to The Mushroom and suited up for the evening. I had some jelly tots that a buddy had spare and wandered out into the night like some high-powered mutant.

God’s own prototype Winking smile



Among other things we checked out the New World Beat Barn and I instantly regretted the fact that I hadn’t discovered it sooner in the festival. It was like some kind of crazy carnival in there, good times as far as the eye could see.

We also posed for a pic with this skeleton who was in a bath tub:



Above us there was this long string of balloons and lights that must have been at least 300 meters long. It floated like this long, luminescent string of glowing blue dental floss against the night sky. Like a lot of things I saw that night, it inspired awe and child-like wander in me and I knew things were going to be ok.

Believe it or not we actually stayed for the end of Arno Carstens’ set so we’d have a good spot for Shadowclub when they came on and Jacques and the boys did NOT disappoint.

I made a mental note to watch them live more and actually support this band. Their set was super-slick without losing its badass bluesy-rock edginess.



Which left only one main stage act left. The reason a lot of people were there in the first place. The band that inspired a million million bands to pick up guitars and write dancey indie rock.

Bloc Party. And man-o-man did their first three songs suck.

The sound was shocking which was sad because it had nothing to do with the band, but all their levels sounded way out with the vocals drowning everything out completely and the bass being almost non-existent.

Things quickly improved though and the crowd started losing their minds to this awesome band.



At some stage in Bloc Party’s set they let the balloons go. Actually, it could have been before, I’m not too sure, but watching them drift away, I felt a profound sense of loss, like the very stitching that held the festival together was coming undone.

And the truth is, it was.

I loved Bloc Party’s set but festival fatigue was kicking in and when they launched a barrage of fractal-patterned fireworks after it was all done, I felt totally satisfied in every conceivable way and ready to call it a day.

It was a great Daisies, no doubt. One that will live on in our minds as long as this post lives on, rattling in this junkyard site that I call home.



Here’s to Daisies ‘13!

See you crazy fuckers there Winking smile