Posts Tagged ‘Peggles


Escape Monday: Bastille Performing In The British Museum

tumblr_mkfkwscZ8b1qlmrr1o1_1364575136_coverI’m deviating from my norm when it comes to Escape Monday posts and instead of posting a series of beautiful images, I’m just posting one video that really hit home when I saw it last week.

I have my main man Peggles to thank for this video, he sent it last week and though I’d heard the song countless times before on radio, this version really made me realise what an amazing piece of music this is.

For me, this is what music, real music, is about. There’s no fancy production, no weird blips or bleeps or squelchy basslines or epic drops. Just four guys, one guitar, some pretty creative percussion and a whole lotta heart.

This is Bastille with “Pompeii”. Enjoy.



Hope that helped you guys to Escape Monday for a bit. I know it sure as hell helped me.

Have an awesome day guys.

Your Tiger pal,



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



Python Eats Alligator (And You Thought Your Monday Sucked…)

yo-dawg-thats-fucked-up1There was a time when two good friends of mine, Peggles and Manfred, locked horns in a vicious battle to see who could find the most fucked up content on the internet to send to the other guy.

Collateral damage ensued as the foul shit that they unearthed got forwarded to us, scarring us in ways not even our psychiatrists can fathom.

The war eventually ended when Manfred hit Peggles with the 1man1jar video, and both parties backed down. Once in awhile though that sick, dark and twisted part of Peggles comes out and he sends a video like the one I’m about to show you.

Probably don’t watch this video if you enjoy sleeping…



Happy Monday everybody!



Happy Second Birthday SlickTiger!

stripper cakeExactly two years and one day ago I pushed this site out lovingly from the moist, slippery birth canals of my twisted mind.

Can you believe it’s already been two years?! Christ, if I’d actually dedicated all this time to writing a novel like I’d originally planned and stuck to writing it as religiously as I blog on this site, I’d have a fucking masterpiece by now.

But, conversely, I never would have met all you, my happy little gang of imaginary internet friends so yeah… um… whoop whoop dee doo?

Joking! You know I love you goofy basterds. That’s the one thing you learn about blogging right from the get-go, every comment you get on your site is like a little hit of internet crack and once you get started on that shit you’ll blog about your own dead mother to get more!

I think it’s been a pretty fun ride so far. Sure, sometimes I write about utter shite just for the sake of posting that day but I’m only human. I can’t think up earth-shattering posts every day. Hell, if I manage one a MONTH I’m happy.



But enough about me, this post is about YOU – my loyal readers who come back time and time again to see what the Tiger’s been up to, what weird shit he’s cooked up today.

Civilian, Seer0wer, Guitar Jon, DP, Jax, Psymon, Action, Mattcredible, Megs (the ORIGINAL Slicky-T groupie), Callegari, Tara, Supa Dan, The MAEN, Ricksaw, Flavid, 1/2 a Rent, Peggles and Stikey just to name a few. You guys are the shit. I’d write this site until hell froze over just for you guys.

Thank you for being total badasses and hitting this site like it’s a prime piece of 18 year old ass and you’re the creepy PE teacher who touches his students inappropriately while they’re stretching.



Empires will rise and fall, but this junkyard site will float on through the blogosphere, edging ever closer to the event horizon, the still point of the turning universe and when we get there we will see the beginning again and we will know it for the first time…

And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

I’d like to play out with a song close to my heart. It’s Eagles Of Death Metal with “Whore-hoppin’ (Shit, Goddamn)”



Shine on you crazy diamonds Winking smile



SlickTiger And The 10 Year Highschool Reunion

I wasn’t sure if anyone gave two shits that I was flying up to the Big Smoke awhile back for my 10 year highschool reunion, so I never wrote a follow-up post saying what it was actually like.

Since writing that post though no less than three of my regular readers have asked me what went down so I figured I owed it to them to give a full account of the sheer insanity, the mind-bendingly twisted and life-alteringly fucked up shit that went down that night.

So pull up a chair, this post’s gonna leave you a changed person…

Cool, still here? Rad, sorry for the over-dramatic intro, the reunion wasn’t all that life-changing but I’m glad you clicked the link cause there was one funny thing that happened that night that bares repeating.

To be perfectly honest, I enjoyed the Friday night I spent up in Jozi way more than the actual reunion night itself on Saturday. I just kicked back at my good buddy Peggles’ place while a whole host of my Joburg buddies came by and we spent the night getting rat-faced at his flat and playing darts.



It was just good times. One of those waypoints on the road that is life where you get to catch up with old buddies and knock back a few tequilas, swap a few war stories and enjoy one another’s company.

Come Saturday, Peggles and I were driving to the reunion asking one another why the hell we had decided to go in the first place. We already knew exactly what it was going to be like – all the guy who never left Joburg crammed into one venue getting good and wasted and asking each other the same damn questions all night.

Which was pretty much exactly what happened. But strangely enough I really enjoyed it. Mostly because a lot of the guys had embarrassingly boring stories and were content to just listen to me babbling on all night about myself, which seemed to be going down really well.



What was fucking sick though was the fact that there were guys there who I literally haven’t spoken to in 10 years who not only know about this site, but read it regularly. Then there were the moments of pure win when I told one or two people that I write this site and they were like “YOU’RE SlickTiger?! Fuck bro, I LOVED that klapping gym post!”

Well, I say pure win, but obviously they hardly read the site or they would have seen the pictures I sporadically post of myself and made the connection sooner, but hey, at least I’m known for something.

Then, BEST part of the evening by far, was when a good buddy of mine walks up to me and says, “Cornelius dude, I gotta share this with you man,” (not my real name, but let’s just roll with this one…).

“So we’re having a conversation about how some of the guys here are clearly talking themselves up a little to sound more important than they are.”

“Sure,” I replied, “that’s a given, right?”

“So one of the guys turns around and is like ‘Ja, a lot of okes are doing that. I mean Cornelius is walking around telling everyone he’s SlickTiger!”

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Too fucking funny I tells ya! THAT made the whole trip worth it, what a chop.



But I dunno, I’m not sure my life would have been that different had I not gone, so maybe let that be a lesson to anyone considering attending their 10 year reunion.

It’s going to be exactly the way you think it’s going to be.

Just pray when yours rolls around they stock the bar better than they did for ours – one hour in and all the tequila and Jagermeister was finished and at 1.00 on the knuckle they rang for last rounds and sent us all home.

If I could go back in time I definitely would have still gone, but not without first ingesting a LOT of acid.

Now THAT would have been a fun party Winking smile



Just What Your Day Needed: Some China Smack

The world is a fucked up place, that’s pretty much an undisputed fact, and thanks to the interwebs we now have irrefutable proof of that fact that can be sent in convenient hyperlinks to friends and family who are bored at work.

My main man Peggles went through a dark phase a few years ago when he would drudge up the sickest shit he could possibly find on the interwebs and send the links to us in some weird attempt at psychologically scarring us all for life and he was pretty damn successful.

So when he sent me a link to this site called China Smack, I was understandably nervous about opening it at work because China, as we all know, is a very fucked up place.



Having said that, pretty much nothing could have prepared me for the stories about sex education classes for elementary school children, 12-year old models, homeless Mongolians living in sewers, “Boiled Alive Cat” being served in restaurants, and a particularly disturbing story about a guy who skinned a dog in the street.

It’s all right here at

There’s also funny stuff there too. It’s not all abusing mentally handicapped children and lewd stories about how to make a home-made Fleshlight (don’t ask).

In the interest of bridging the social divide between us and those crazy basterds in the east, I urge you to visit that site.

Just make sure no one can see your screen or you might be called into an unexpected meeting with the HR lady.



near-death sunday

There are some Sundays that come around and kick you arse so hard you wish you could go back in time and undo the chaos you got caught up in the night before.

At sometime around 7 this morning a feeling started burning inside me like my guts were on fire. It rose steadily up my throat, roasting me alive inch by inch as whatever evil concoction I’d mixed in my stomach last night fought desperately to see the light of day.

When I feel like this, I know I’m in for a rough two hours. I got a hiatus hernia that probably needs fixing, I saw a doctor about it awhile back and he gave me some meds to fix it, but if I don’t take this pill at the same time everyday, even if I’m a few hours out, I start to suffer.

Then if I take the meds, it flares up before it gets better and for about two hours I feel like I’m being burnt alive by industrial strength acid from the inside out.

In my head I remember Alien, specifically the scene where they try and cut the alien off Kane (John Hurt) when it first attaches to his face and they find out that its blood is so corrosive it eats through two floors.



That’s what I reckon would happen if you cut me when my reflux is bad.

J-Rab got up to go to work and then visit the place where she used to work so she could see her buddy ol’ pal, the Siberian Tiger Baloo. I lay in bed and entertained thoughts that I might actually have died the night before and was now in hell.

I ate my way through half a pack of Rennies, a double dose of my meds and two of the painkillers they gave after my shoulder operation to try and knock my headache out.

On mornings like these, the Kris Kristofferson song ‘Sunday Morning Coming Down’ becomes the story of my life:

“Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
An’ I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An’ stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
I’d smoked my brain the night before,
On cigarettes and songs I’d been pickin’.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Cussin’ at a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street,
‘n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin’ chicken.
And it took me back to somethin’,
That I’d lost somehow, somewhere along the way.

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cos there’s something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’,
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin’ city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down.

In the park I saw a daddy,
With a laughin’ little girl who he was swingin’.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
And listened to the song they were singin’.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin’.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cos there’s something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’,
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin’ city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down.

Do do do do do do do do,
Do do do do do do do,
Do do do do do do do do,
Do do do do do do do.

To fade

I mean, how excellent is that song? Read it, really read those fucking lyrics! ‘Do do do do do do do do’! Have you ever heard a more compelling call to action?! Do! DO!



So anyway, eventually the couch healed me, don’t ask me how, but by just sitting upright on it for about an hour, staring at the TV even though it was off, I slowly started to feel better and better and last night slowly swam into focus.

Probably the first thing that came back was me asking one of Graumpot’s Indian guests at his housewarming braai yesterday if she had any black heritage. I mean c’mon! That’s a perfectly innocuous question right? Right?

No. Not right. Wrong. Apparently she spent the rest of the night asking everyone if she looked black in this desperate, paranoid kind of way. I did not mean to upset her in any way, but ended up probably ruining her evening.


Otherwise I behaved well. Also, I came up with a new stroke of genius when it comes to remembering the crazy thoughts I have so I can blog about them later, I use this advanced piece of technology called the ‘voice recorder’ on my cell phone.

I just opened my voice files from yesterday and came across the following:

1. ‘Terminator car. Running from right through the car window, around the back and into the left rear view mirror. Stop’

2. ‘We gotta get out of this place’ playing on Graum’s car stereo.

3. A note to write a letter to Josh Homme and post it on my site. This is the gayest idea I’ve ever had.

4. An interview with Graum’s girlfriend M-Class while she was making potato salad with bacon.

5. My attempt at trying to get everyone at the party to tell me their nick names. Fail.

So yeah, great idea there Slick. Life changing stuff. Dun duuunnnnnn!

I drank a bottle of brandy last night, basically put the entire bottle down except for an inch on the bottom. I drank it with coke, which is what I think triggered the intense heartburn this morning.

Remember kids, don’t do what Tiger-Don’t does. Drinking an entire bottle of brandy is never, ever a good idea. It’s a miracle that asking a girl if one of her folks was black is the only thing I did.

J-Rab came late cause she had her office Christmas party and I was so happy to see her, I followed her into the bathroom and hugged her legs while she was trying to pee. Much hilarity ensued. About half an hour later I curled up in her lap (my happy place) and passed out.

It was good to see Graum and M-Class though, they just finished doing a TEFL course so they’ve been scarce over the past few weeks. Peggles and PGF were also there, they didn’t get too fucked up though cause this morning they wanted to go cycling (?)

Good people, good times.

Now it’s Sunday evening and I’m keen to hit the sack and start sawing a couple logs.

Later masturbators 😉