I'm a Moose, Moose, Moose

I think I have a winner. It is a shot called the Moose. It is bestowed upon the unfortunate individual who loses the Moose Drinking Game. A bit lost? I know. I have a tendency to talk shit. The Moose is one of the many things the Name and I brought back with us from Barcelona. We learnt it from a couple of Englishmen. I'm sure you will come across it in the not to distant future, its infectious. And the loser has to have the moose shot. It consists of cane and wait for it........ Milk. Yes I didn't stutter, Milk. As seen below the losers often show bewilderment at the sight of this foul concoction.

Losers: Bewildered

Don't worry, it will get you.

Pushing It Sound

Some oke pushing it with regards to his sound system!  Seen recently outside "The Track" - home of the SK Walmers!

Mustang Sally

Most of us have been in love and will know that it makes you do crazy things sometimes. It can change people. None more hectic than I have seen with mine own eyes. Before me in Barca stood a changed man. I was otherwise occupied with an Aussie and towards the end of the night came looking for a mate of mine on a club in the heart of the Barca Club district. I expected the man to be in his usual spot, on the side of the D-F with a bevvy of lovely ladies falling over each other to get his attention.

But to my absolute astonishment, he we nowhere to be found. Then a circle parted on the Dance floor. at first I didnt even look. Not him, not on the dancefloor, there was no punk playing. But then I did look up and I saw it. The crowd had parted and were watching in silence a young man down on one knee presenting a rose(which he wide eyedly begged me for cash to purchase. I had thought nothing of it because I thought the money was for beer) to another young Aussie lass. But thats not all kids. He was doing a Jambles-Like serenade move on her. He was singing along to the immortal words of Oasis: " Soooo Sally cant wait, she knows its too late and she's walking on by..."

That is an image I will take to my death Bed. Had I had my camera on me, I would have gladly snapped a pic, but alas I didnt, so you will have to take my word for it. I know, its a big ask, as my word isnt worth as much as the Zim dollar, but kids, I dont lie about love. This was the real-deal-holyfield-tickle-her-back-watch-her-sleep LOVE. Fantastic I think. What a transition, he was like a catterpillar into a butterfly.

Barcelona: What a lady, What a night

I have been thinking for a few days how I was going to write this article. It would be impossible to explain exactly what we experienced on our trip. I know I wont do it justice, but I have to try.

I joined The Name in London and right from the get go, the party started. Our Barca leg would be sanwiched by two 4-day stints in the capital. We were put up in top accomodation by the London Branch and many thanks must go to them. To say we ran riot would be an understatement. The clubs we went to were absolutely insane. The booze was pricey, the ladies even more so, but the boys did well regardless. Sheer class it must be said. There were incidents involving a Brazillian, a few Londoners and an Aussie, no names will be mentioned because we are gentlemen and The Banker even Managed to bag a Saffa! There was of course a slaying session at the Leicester Square Walkies ("This is like shooting fish in a Barrel" - The Name). The Deax even came out to play as did Jan & Sooz. The piece-de-la-resistance was the Goo Goo Dolls in Hyde Park. Oh my God that they were awesome.

Then Barca came. It was heaven. There was a club below the hostel and a bar in it, that sold 2 x 1L Heineken draughts for 3euro during happy hour (6-7:30). A recipe for a great evening. The entire hostel pours out into the common room and plays various drinking games(kings, what-the-fuck, moose, indian war signs were among the favorites) in the evenings and gets completely wasted. Then down to the Offie (the bottle store), some Vodka, and more boozing. Then off (if you can still walk) to the club strip in Port Olympia where there are +- 15 clubs in a row that you make your way in and out of the entire night sampling the foreign 'beverages' at will. We also went to a few super clubs that were rather pushing it and that had a girl:guy ratio of 3:1. I can hear the Guru licking his lips.

A couple of saffas and an aussie

The place was bursting with Aussies. We befriended thousands and partied with tem very hard over the week. they brought a fantastic element to our games of kings and it was thoroughly enjoyable. A pair of Aussie lasses stood out though, and we spent most of our time with them. The others we met were with us for varying periods of time, but these two were there the entire time we were. They had top banter and the convesations we had were lively and jovial, oh and boyfriends that were soon forgotten...

Aussies Birds: Mates

Others who we encoutered included a myriad of crazy poms, who donned a boombox around the streets of Barca and came across a loudhailer and brought it back to the hostel. This entertained me greatly and I unfortunately got carried away with the thing much to the dismay of the rest of the entire hostel.

The unforgettable group of kiwis who pushed it all night in the clubs then came homa and set off the fire extinguisher in our corridoor. Again I got caught up in the mob mentality and exzaccerbated the problem. I did however feel a bit bad when I woke up the next morning and there was a team of cleaners sorting it out.

To do each story justice is almost impossible. especially in writing. All I can say is that if you ever get a chance, grab it with both hands. The people we met we will stay friends with forever and the experiences we had we will never forget.



Adios Barcelona, till next time.

I know its really, really bad.

Well, all i can say is that, i never want to leave. never. This place is the most hecticplace in the world by miles. I can just hope that all of you kids can one day experience this. Oh my shattered nerves. its too much. Enjoy the day. I will.

Markets crash.

Wadda stocks have reached an all time low plummeting to a measly 26c a share from 342c as recent as May. One might think that the reason for this is the fact that Smithy and the boys are in England. (putting on a fine display, I might add, with a first innings deficit of 346 runs. Good work.)

This is not the case.

While a smart trader would've traded in the negative movement of these shares knowing Smithy was leaving the country, I don't think he could've predicted they would drop this much. One might even think there is some dirty work going on in the markets. A recent investigation, however, shows that this isn't the case. It also shows that if you have any spare money lying around, now would be a good time to invest in Wadda stocks.

A casual conversation with the owner of Wadda suggests that the reason for the drastic fall was caused by frequent flyers being abroad. It also suggests that the flyers concerned don't, in fact, play cricket for South Africa. I asked who these people could possibly be and was shocked to learn that it wasn't so much people as it was person. I was sworn to secrecy and cannot reveal who this person is but assure you he will be back soon and Wadda will survive.

In other news the Great Dane is making his way over to Pamplona to chase the bulls, we all know he won't be running from them. Bulls aren't all he's after either. Being a dog it's only nature that if he sees a cat, he'll chase it. Although over there they're not referred to as cats, the locals call them pussy cats. So there's the Great Dane, chasing a puss (in boots).

Great Dane in the back chasing....
Well we don't really know which one he's chasing.
Everyone seems to be running from him, though.

KFC, Nandoes to the rescue.

Not even I could make this shit up...

Bloemfontein - The leadership of the African National Congress's Women's League had to intervene urgently after about 40 conference delegates were admitted to hospital for diarrhoea, among other things.

The four-day conference ended in Bloemfontein on Sunday. It was held on the Vista campus of the University of the Free State (UFS). The Free State Department of Health rendered medical assistance to conference delegates who complained of diarrhoea, dehydration and nausea.

ANC Women's League spokesperson Lindiwe Maseko said at a news conference that other cases requiring medical attention were people with diabetes who had not brought their medicine with them. Maseko gave the assurance that these cases were brought "under control".
"The services of the caterers were terminated. After that, we ordered food from outlets like KFC and Nando's." The caterers had served conference delegates two meals a day.

Maseko said it was important that conference delegates got fresh food and liquids. The golf carts in which delegates were transported around on campus also caused some drama when untrained cart drivers caused a few delegates to fall off the carts. A delegate apparently also was knocked over by one of the golf carts.

A Bloemfontein businessperson was given the contract to offer this service to conference delegates. In terms of the contract, there was one condition: it had to provide work for unemployed people.

Apparently ANC-appointed drivers were contracted to do the driving, but it was the first time they had ever driven the carts. Following complaints, the organisers decided the conference security guards should drive the carts and sacked the unemployed drivers.

The Free State cold was too unpleasant and the guards decided to go on strike on Friday evening. Members of the businessperson's family and two reliable workers had to take over driving duties. Consequently, fewer routes were serviced. According to the league, the onus rested on the service provider to ensure that the drivers of the golf carts were able to do the job, even if they were appointed by the Women's League.


Courtesy News24.com

Is this genuine?

Some highly sought after video footage that gives us some insight into the the Great Daynes mental state right now.

Quality.....

P.S. sound is optional

Exam Technique

 

While I was on my way to obtaining a couple of letters behind my name at the great University of Cape Town one of the funnier things that happened on the ride was when one of my good friends (no names mentioned but it probably wouldn't matter because "he's changed"... twice in fact!) came out of an Economics test claiming that he had got 2 percent.  I thought that was one way of saying the test was hard but took very little notice of the number as the man was both notorious for being an 'exaggerator' as well as always underestimating his marks (like all girls are taught to do).

Well just over two weeks later when the marks came out those of you who quickly scan everyone's marks to look for extreme temperatures would have found what can only be described as the South Pole of marks.... 2%!  allday001 ----- 2%....  Wholly Moses, how the fuck did this chap do it?!  Well it seems as if my friend was right... he had achieved the almost perfect fuck up....

Well it seems as if exam technique may have been something that allday001 should have invested in....  We all know that it can mean the difference between 49% and 50% or in this case 2% and 7.5%.  That is after you have heard that an English kid (thinking Council House Adolescent Vermon personally), when asked to describe the room that he was in, wrote "Fuck Off".  Baking?  I am hoping he was desperately out of time and it was the last question as he wasn't exactly endearing himself to the marker.  But the question remains, how the FUCK did he get 7.5%?

 

Wait for it.....

"accurate spelling" and "effective communication"...... STOP IT....

 

The 'effective communication' comment is only going to degenerate peoples tube ride experiences further when CHAV's use that term with their hoody clad heads held up high.

Two words my friends....... Exam Technique

Div

Not so sure about this nick name that Peter Div has been given, but hey...  Was trawling news24 last night when I came across one of his great quotes in an article titled "Div ready to fight for Butch", where the great man was talking about keeping Butch James involved in SA rugby:  

 

We will lean over backwards to get him back."

I'm sorry what was that?  Some, including the ANC Youth League president, might say that I have 'quoted them out of context'.... I'm secretly hoping that it is because he learned to speak English from the Spanish who live in the Cape.

 

Butch, you so important to SA rugby that our national coach is going to strain his back (not break as that would involve being bent over in some manor) to keep you here.  Hope he doesn't lean too far and spill his coffee!

No really, I do love you Div.....

Thanks Seth.....

Only the Dutch...

The no-smoking advertisements are everywhere, as Holland gears up to create the smoke-free environment it says all workers are entitled to. Under the new rules, smoking tobacco is out. But the ban doesn't extend to marijuana, also called cannabis, which under existing soft drug legislation, is still tolerated if not entirely legal.

Tourists purchase their cannabis at the Bulldog coffee shop - one of the country's first built in an old police station in the heart of the city. Most Europeans smoke their marijuana in cigarettes rolled with tobacco. And that's where the confusion comes in. Long-time smoker Rob says he'll never smoke the pure marijuana joints that will now be the only ones still allowed.

"I don't know, smoke at home, I think. Just buy it and go home, smoke," he said.

Coffee shop owners are also confused. Although they say they will try and stop people from smoking joints that are mixed with marijuana and tobacco, it's often hard to police people as they're rolling. They say they will direct them outside, where smoking's still allowed.

For those who remain inside at the Bulldog, there will be other smoking options - tobacco substitutes on the counters, segregated smoking cabins, water pipes and vaporizers.
Fritz, who's been selling soft drugs at the Bulldog for a decade, says he doesn't think the new rules will hurt business. And they could even have some unforeseen benefits.

"I think it will be good because I smoke a lot but when it's forbidden, I have to go outside. But not possible because I must be in when I'm working. So, it's good for my health," he said.
Many smaller coffee shops, though, are worried they'll be put out of business. They can't afford to create a separate smoking space for tobacco diehards, as the law requires.

Helga, who owns the neighborhood smoke shop Yoyo, says she'll weather the storm, and will maybe even take this opportunity to convert her coffee shop into a community center. But a recent brush with police over kids using her shop's bathroom means she's taking the law seriously.

"They said one thing more you're closed forever, because they'd like to close all coffee shops. We're the most friendly one, the only coffee shop, it's another atmosphere. But they do it because they want less coffee shops. ... So I will follow the rules," she said.
For the owners who don't, fines start at about $475 for a first offense and work their way up to $3,800 for continuing breaches of the law.

But even the 200 inspectors charged with enforcing the new law say it's a bit unclear. With some 60,000 establishments to police, of which about 700 are coffee shops, they say they'll wait and see what happens at the smoke shops before levying fines. Which means for now at least, the traditional Dutch coffee shops will remain firmly rooted in another time-honored Dutch tradition, the legal grey area.

story courtesy of VOA News

How to make the Perfect Sandwich

Something I am passionate about is eating. Now, a favourite of mine is the Sandwich. It is said to have been created by the Earl of Sandwich in the early 1400's when he asked his cook to place some meat in between two pieces of bread and voila, the Sandwich was born. Ill take you step by step through the process to ensure you understand fully.

Ingredients

The Bread: Two pieces of the finest white bread with golden brown crust is best.

The Meat: Skewered seal pup meat will be used here, i'm assured its good eating, but im not yet a believer. Also make sure to watch out for the steel skewer in the meat

The Spice: To give the siff meat some vibe, otherwise it is dull and lifeless.

Method

Now, you will have to marinade the meat in spice for as long as possible. Possibly forever. Then throw some spice on the bread so that the bread feels the vibe to. Then you place the meat in between the pieces of bread, and put some more spice on top to garnish and keep things interesting. Below you have the finished product. Bon Apetit

Story telling.

What makes a good story?

What separates the good from the mediocre?

Could it be that the story teller has the freedom to say whatever he or she pleases. Whether to base the story on fact or fiction. Here on the playroom this gets abused.

Who the story is about is also key. When the author writes about other people it makes for better reading if it's based on fiction. If, however, the author decides to write about himself he uses fiction only to sugar coat the story, otherwise it's driven by fact.

Another very powerful tool is omission. It would be silly to write an embarrassing story about yourself and omission is therefor a very necessary tool. It becomes useless, though, if what you're leaving out is known by others. Hence this article...


What Jake failed to mention in his article titled 'post match' is the reason he was removed from his weekend home. In fact he sidestepped it altogether. I know you're all wondering why he got asked to leave, not for the first time I might add. Well kids it's quite simple. In fact I think he put it at no.1 on his 'how to get kicked out a nightclub' list.

I found this list and present you a snippet that features entries from other well known players:

How to get kicked out a nightclub by the greatness:

3. Score the DJ's girlfriend right in front on the DJ booth. (the name)
2. Sneak up behind the bouncer and pop a balloon right in his face. (spin jizzard)
1. Take off your jeans (and boxers) and flash everyone on the dance floor, then play with it as the bouncer approaches. (the great himself)

I mentioned earlier something about the author's ability to use fiction as and when he pleases. I wish I could say I've used this tool today but I'm afraid to say folks, I haven't.

Let this be a lesson to you kids out there. This behavior isn't cool. It's embarrassing. Grow up.

Post Match

This was the scene that awaited me when I finaly arrived at home this morning. Kids got festive. I think people over indulged a little. Things definately were not hekped by the peoples bare tender, ohh-ahh van Breda who was issuing drinks left right and centre. Thnak you, but it was naughty.

It kicked off something terrible. Cape Towns Biggest Boozer was in fine form as usual. My Wadda night was rather abruptly and rather unjustifibly ended by Maurice (or some other Xenophia-esque jimmy), from there were slid on over to tiger, where i might have seen Satan, but cant be sure. Actually, I cant be sure of much. All I have is pieces. Little bits from here and there. Not much, just a few, some good, some not so. We then made the move to Starlight Diner (see xenophobia article) where we were unfortunately met by an absolute prick of a human in the form of a famous rugby players brother. Let's call this oxygen theif Skinny Bob. Im not going to go into it, but I dont get stressed to quickly and generally keep my temper under control. But this muppet pushed my patience to the limits. Anyway, despite this, we managed to enjoy our chips and Farmgirl tomato sauce. Very Budget. What an evening, and a thank you to all involved.

The Perfect Pre-Match and its Players

I look forward with optimism into this weekend. Its starting with pre-match, as it so often does. I am fine with that. In fact its to my liking. Mates coming together to enjoy themselves. Nothing wrong. A corner stone of society so to say, a pastime of sorts.

The Perfect Pre-Match

Like anything in life you have to start with your goals in mind. Thus all the planning must lead you on a series of steps to ultimately reaching your goals. And here kids our goal, lets be honest, is to come right. Or if you are Keric, be the most boozed oke there. The goal itself is immaterial, it is the planning for reaching said goal that is of the utmost importance, and this is set up all too aften by the PreMatch, or PM as it will now be referred to.

The perfect PM can take many different forms, my personal favourite, involves a bottle of cane, a pack of cards and a few mates, birds optional(at this point in the evening). A point I cant stress enough, is that it CANNOT be a rushed affair. I have seen far too many inexperienced school-boy-like campaigners make this fatal mistake. As a rule of thumb, 4 hours minimum. I can sense a few of you raising your eyes, but, its a proven fact. Slow release boozing, much like slow release energy, is the best way to go. It allows the body time to adjust to its altered state of awareness.

An important element to the night is "The CEO" He is the one who oversees the evening and makes sure everyone is on a similar level of boozedness. This is however not a trditional seat of power like the fines chair or anything like that, it is unknown to the other competitors. It is a thnkless task that a few perform to ensure a good night. A CEO has many tools at his disposal to 'hurry competitors along, or 'slow' them down a bit. The drinking games are a perfect example of this, shots have the desitred effect on hurring those slow competitors up a bit, the more competent the CEO, the better his Arsenal.

Problems come in when the CEO loses control himself, this could end in disaster for the crowd and ultimately result in a failed PM. Thus a CEO must keep his composure at all times.

Once out on the town, the CEO leaves his kids to their own devices, much like a mother bird letting its chicks fly away for the first time. He feels that warm sense of pride when they spade drunk bitches. Its good. He has succeeded. He then enjoys himself out. He has earned it.