I’ve just been waiting for all the stories of these various objects washing up on Camps Bay beach to die down.

I decided to let all the amateur bloggers do their homeschooling, while here at SLXS, we’ve just graduated!

Come on guys, what happened to “reading between the lines” and some old school investigative journalism? It seems everyone is in too much of a rush to get the stories out, and they don’t delve deep within the problem. But that’s what I do. When others start getting too deep into the meaning of life, I push further. I go there.

And so with these containers containing hazardous chemicals washing up onto Camps Bay beach, I considered two things:

• Aliens
• Hazardous agents
• Celebrities

Three things rather. When a container washes up on the beach suddenly, it obviously flew in and it is therefore a UFO, and Robbie Williams likes to hunt UFO’s. First piece of the puzzle.

That’s how you handle your balls Ronaldo!

These containers were then handled by guys in hazard suits, as our newspapers reported. Apparently the chemical within can cause burns, blisters, permanent scarring and death in extreme cases. Which is exactly why Cristiano Ronaldo is no longer with her. What else would warrant a hazard suit, other than the multitude of diseases that Paris Hilton carries? Second piece of the puzzle. Clearly the containers are carrying Paris Hilton, and Robbie Williams first spotted them landing down on Camps Bay beach.

The fact is, this was all a massive ploy and combined with some celebrity deaths this week, ensured that Robbie Williams and Paris Hilton arrived in Cape Town without any of the media knowing it.

Because as we speak Paris Hilton is naked in my bath and Robbie Williams is in my recording room, we’re recording a demo together. I’m sitting here typing this and we’re waiting for our chauffeuer to fetch us.

See you at the V&A Waterfront later.

I’ll end this off with some lyrics of our song:

Boom…boom…It’s Friday night and Paris is everything but…tight

Robbie throws me the crack pipe and offers up a light

I don’t know, I’ve given up on drugs but…hang on I just might.

Let’s go out and smoke drugs tonight!

Morning comes round

And my head starts to pound

Paris is squealing like your regular ol’ hound

I don’t know what it was last night that we downed

But my word if Green Day were here they’d be singing “When I come around”

Beats are low and there is a pleat in my pants

Paris is trying to tug at it, I think something is in my pants, might be ants

Robbie’s in the back room, speaking to his drug dealer “No more cheap crack” he rants

We’re going down the the strip later

We’ll probably get so high we’ll catch an alligator

 IN MY PANTS

Pants…

Pants…

So that’s where myself and Robbie are at the moment on this song, I think it’s going to be a monster hit. I’ll keep you posted.

(Photo 1 courtesy)

(Photo 2 courtesy)

Sean Lloyd

Editor