PLEASE NOTE: Obviously as you know I would never attend a prestigious Cape Town event such as the 2008 J&B Met. Therefore I was not there this year and therefore am in no way responsible for the actions of the characters described in this fictional piece. I have obviously made the entire story up and have been furnished with photos from the event by my many connections. Thank you.
The 2008 J&B Met
So here is what probably would have happened. We would have all met up at the house of Lloyd in 3rd Avenue in Harfield Village which is very close to the Kenilworth Race Course. Naturally a champagne breakfast would be had, with everyone consuming a bottle of champagne each, followed by chasers of vodka and orange juice. We might have heard a story from a guy called Shaun whose domestic worker got pregnant. She might have phoned him to say the child had been born and he would have asked whether it was a boy or a girl.
She would say it was a boy. He’d ask what it’s name was.
“It’s name is Shaun!”
Quality.
Girls would arrive, I would stare, I would drink more.We would be in the sun until approximately 1:42 after which we would take the 5 minute walk down to the race course for the 2008 J&B Met. Somebody would walk to the furthest point of the gate possible and throw a 2 litre box of wine over the wall to be collected later. We would all pack our Red Herrings in order to deceive the security guards. After gaining entry we would have walked to the 2 litre “papsak” and put it in one of the angels handbags.
Entrance would be a spectacle as we were hounded by the photogs, all wanting a piece of us. There would literally be more beautiful people there than you have ever seen in your life. Taking a wild guess Schalk Burger would be in attendance and he would be getting asked for photos. He would oblige with the classic Schalk Burger smile.
Racing would start and once again we would be so out of our trees that we would miss every single race and not even bet on any horses because the stumble to the betting totes would be halted by our complete inability to walk. Our bodies would have basic functions on the day of the 2008 J&B Met such as mumbling, staring and drinking.
It would have been a hot day
Later on, tired of standing on the sun with all the plebbs we would totally abuse the SLXS good name to gain access into areas that we realise are forbidden to anyone other than the top brass of government. We would marvel at the food and drink on display and totally go wild. Asked what the hell we were doing there by some people we would reply “Listen, sit down before I have you escorted out of here” This was not us speaking though, it was the champagne breakfast.
A place like Mavericks would probably have kitted out a motorbike with a naked women, who from a distance would look like a real women. The excitement would be indescribable until on closer inspection it would be a fake bird and dreams would be shattered.
Ride it hard
We would only take about four photos during the day because we would be so engrossed with the talent criss crossing the lush green lawn at the Kenilworth race course. Speaking would turn out to be a problem later as we would be playing in a different league. Breast enhancements would totally distract the conversation as we would mutter and mumble our way through conversations, grossly inflating our importance in the world and saying nothing about our work other than to quietly mention that we are “moguls”
We would completely miss every horse race and would not even see the race course for the better part of the day as the tents served up snacks and drinks at a rate to make a gunnery sergeant proud. Numbers would be taken of people, and we would later see these numbers in our phones and not have a clue as to who the faces were behind these numbers.
We would miss some people during the day.
Nobody would know what Connect Couture meant and some guy and his girlfriend would come dressed in a leather bondage outfit, pretty much like a gimp. Unable to control my laughter I would laugh at them as they walked past and I would feel bad about it realising that they are just like any normal people. Except with a fetish for leather and pain.
The day would be completely lost on me as I realise that I have been standing in the sun for hours and hours. I would take a look around and realise that I am all on my own and I would wonder how long I have been by myself for, standing with a drink in my hand. I would have forgotten all the conversations I had. People would not respond to my phone calls as they would have realised that I was speaking Japanese at this stage of the day. I would have an ill look on my face and try walk back to the house by myself at about 7pm.
Getting lost I would walk all the way to the bottom of 2nd Avenue and then only realise I’m supposed to be at the top of Third Avenue. I would walk aimlessly for about 20 minutes. Entering the house I would set the alarm off and completely forget the code. I would wait another twenty minutes before calling to find out the alarm code. The cops would arrive and I would have to explain that I’m not trying to steal the house. I would realise that they now know I’m drunk because you cannot in fact steal a house.
Falling on the couch, the day of standing in the sun drinking would finally hit me and I would be dizzy. Closing my eyes I would feel as if the world was getting bigger and I was in some sort of a time warp. I would feel as if I was out of my body, looking down on myself. The dizziness would be too hectic for words and sleeping would be unbearable.
I would fall asleep on the couch alone with Dire Straits playing the “Walk of Life”
Sweet dreams Sean. Sleep tight Sean.
The End.
Ahhhh it’s a pity I was not at The J&B Met!
Sean Lloyd
Editor
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