Cheldon, one of our readers, sent me a whole host of photos yesterday but I was busy saving other parts of the world and was unable to check e-mail and save burning buses in Cape Town. Anyway, funny enough this bus was a Translux and I was in Checkers yesterday (Don’t ask) and saw an advert for Translux. I kid you not, this is what it said:

“GO! Fall in love on a Translux”

It then had a couple holding each other.

Fall in love on a Translux? Are you from THE Plein? Are you a Parow Arrow? Are you a Bellville Bomber?

Who in their right mind (Not on Tik) would fall in love on a Translux?

I mean, I can imagine falling in love on a Concorde, or on Clifton 4th (Happens to me all the time), or falling in love at school when you are surrounded by the same chicks all the time and after a while you just tend to fall in love with them, but on a bus?

I think we’re taking the wrong marketing angle here, guys. The only type of love you might get on a Translux is the “I’m so horny I’ve been on this bus for ten hours and will do anything that moves” type of sex. I don’t think that’s really love either, especially when you don’t know the chicks name and the first time you had sex was while moving through Zimbabwe or something.

Anyway, I believe that’s why the bus exploded, it had come from Joburg and the sexual energy was electric, causing the engine to explode, or causing someone to blow their load. Either way, a sexually deprived trip from Joburg will end in an explosion either in your pants or in the bus engine. Ha, imagine coming all the way from Joburg thinking “Yeah, maxing it in Cape Town with all the fashion models” and then your bus explodes. It’s SO kak to lose!

Either way, it turned out like this:

Something appears to be wrong

Oh, I also found this amusing, on the Translux website, under “Safety”:

“All our buses undergo stringent maintenance programs designed to ensure that our buses are reliable and always comply with the highest safety and maintenance standards. Autopax has fully equipped workshops, operated by highly qualified technicians to ensure that the vehicles are always in perfect conditions” (Isn’t it condition?)

“Always in perfect safety conditions”

Clearly…

Sean Lloyd

Editor

(NOTE: I wrote this piece on Thursday last week, do keep that in mind) A mate of mine got back from the UK last week (He’s looking Casper-ish) and we decided then this week that we would hit a little afternoon bender at the Waterfront yesterday, because we don’t really have anything else to do. So we kicked it at the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town for a while and smashed a rib burger at Quay Four and hit a few brewski’s on the head with our party sticks.

We then remembered through the fogginess of liquid intoxication that Paul Allen’s little sea-mobile was parked at the Waterfront in Cape Town. Having suffered erection problems the previous day (Stacy it won’t happen again) I knew I needed something potent like viagra. Save for this, I could also just go have a squiz at Paul Allens pimpmobile in the form of his boat that is parked at the Cape Grace Hotel in Cape Town.

Chilling outside the Cape Grace Hotel in Cape Town

Chopper 1 

Chopper 2 

Random speedboat 

Random yacht vibe on the side 

Now there is something to be said for parking your Lambo in front of Caprice, but when you look at the bigger scheme of things, parking a car anywhere is small potatoes. Paul Allen’s sex machine is parked QUIETLY in front of the Cape Grace Hotel in Cape Town. Just like that. It’s these vulgar displays of wealth that have me looking down at my crotchal region and once again experiencing the phenomenal sensation of being able to attain, and maintain, a stunning erection. It’s as simple as that; Paul Allen’s boat gives me a bone.

His lifestyle gives me a bone.

While sitting like proper plebbs taking photos of the beast that is called Tatoosh, I started to cry inside. I cry quite often but there is no need to worry.

I’m ok. Maybe.

But I started to cry inside because I realised that no matter how much we up our games, no matter how many shady drug deals we do, we will in all likeliness not be able to afford the estimated $100 million that Allers paid for Tatoosh.(Click HERE for more on Tatoosh)

Sitting yesterday on a stunning Cape Town day, I realised that life will never be complete. I mean it’s good, but there is always something better to strive for. But no matter how much sex and drugs we have, no matter how many supermodels we have in our beds, we will not be Paul Allen. And for that I shed a tear. For that we sit down and ponder the future.

For that we indulge in nights of alcohol abuse.

For that we are all the poorer.

It’s quite funny that I’m still able to write at this point in time, and it’s astonishing that I’m still alive. I’ve just ridden off the back end of the biggest bender that saw me at Asoka (Over rated) on Friday night, followed by a cheeky stop off at Oblivion with the likes of Merriman being unable to speak. Saturday was spent drinking like fish from noon until midnight. This was capped off by a visit to Wijnhuis in Newlands (Absolutely stunning) where I drank champagne, and capped this off with a gorgeous visit to Beluga for sushi and koktails.

I’ve just found a little something that my brother left behind for me when he went overseas earlier in the year. He left me the most awesome espresso machine and I’ve been pumping Woolworths Organic Espresso’s the entire day.

The combination of high end alcohol, vast amounts of organic caffeine and a complete lack of food has left me absolutely shattered and burned. Mental, it feels like I’m in The Matrix. Added into the highly volatile mix that is currently Sean Lloyd’s body (I can, and will refer to myself in the third person. My arrogance allows), I have just pumped Grandmas Boy into the DVD player and I’m now sitting here completely naked and going through my vast cabinet of skincare products which I always have at hand. Hence the youthful skin…

I’m just wondering whether I should use the peel off vitality mask or the moisturising and energising mask. I’m not sure when I should exfoliate. This morning after rescue gel is also looking good as well after bending this weekend. But you know what? This is all neither here nor there.

There’s a who?

An economic recession? Who is that?

Really? REALLY?!

I wasn’t aware…sorry…

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I was shuttled through to Karma in Camps Bay on Saturday night to check out the vibe with the B2R Team in the B2R Truck.

Something that I found very clever was the stamps that Karma give you upon entrance. Most nightclubs just give you a regular stamp with the name of the club, or some other random stamp. Karma have got a very clever idea though tied in with Rikkis Cabs.

Check out the stamp below:

Stamped on my strong and powerful wrist 

It’s not too clear as I started showering, then realised I needed a photo of the stamp, so some had washed off. But it says “Don’t drink and drive. Call a Rikkis” The number of Rikkis is also then printed on there, but I can’t quite make it out.

I think it’s a great idea that nightclubs promote the use of cabs so we don’t have a whole lot of drunk people driving around Cape Town, endangering their lives and other peoples lives. It’s such a simple idea, but I thought it was really clever, and if it can reduce the number of drunk drivers on the roads, then it can only be a good thing. Rikkis have definitely done a lot for reducing drunk driving in Cape Town, with some clubs having phones you can use for free to call Rikkis and organise a cab.

This public service announcement is brought to you by SLXS in the hope that you will still drink excessively…and then NOT drive yourself.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

So we decided to head through to Stellenbosch the other day when we are absolutely rail sliding the Black Viper in and around the bends of the road. We were dominating the road, owning it. We did a slingshot maneuver(How do we spell this one?) out of one of the bends, literally ripping the tar up and owning this section of tarmac. I guarantee if we had chicks in the car, panties would have magically come off. No doubt, myself sitting in the passenger seat, I would have gotten a hand around. Truth.

I’m serious, the driving was sexual. Dropped it into second for the slingshot, slammed out the corner and got the Viper up to 180km/hr.

All fun and games until we saw a baby.

A damn baby!

Sitting in the middle of a main road.

Selling weed! You should have seen the look on this infants face as we hurtled towards him! Even more spectacular was the look on his face as we hit him. Then…my God…we turned the wiper blades on to get him off our window because we were now pushing 200km/hr with a baby on our windscreen and we had absolutely no vision. I wasn’t worried about the baby, but I was worried about our dirty windscreen.

Ok there was no baby but we were doing 180km/hr. The look in my buddies face was spectacular as he realised we were doing a moderate bit of speeding, and a cop could arrest us now. That’s what we do though, we run with scissors, because it makes us feel dangerous.

It then occurred to me that while some people complain about the price of petrol, food etc we were literally burning holes in the bank.

We were driving at R180 an hour. Unbelievable. Nearly two R100 notes every hour were getting ignited by our engine.

Because with the current price of petrol, we no longer drive in kilometres an hour. We drive in rands an hour.

Most cars will use about 10 litres of petrol per 100km. At about R10 a litre, this is about R1 per kilometre. Which is QUITE expensive!

For the same amount of speeding a few years ago, we would be doing R100 an hour.

It’s not ideal that petrol is going up another 71c though, we are going to have to cut to R160 an hour.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

Some of the things we do in this country are just hilarious. Firstly, we elect the current people in government which include our boy JZ, our health chick Tshabalala Msimang and that other guy…um…Thabs. We can now clearly see that they don’t really have any clue what is going on, but I still was not completely convinced that they were absolute morons.

One of the main things we speak about in South Africa is obviously the crime because it is a bit of a bad situation. Now the government could obviously do a couple of things about this but because they have an IQ of 12, they refuse to. They don’t think of getting more cops, or training the cops better, or putting a better education system in place or just helping the country out by doing anything good. Obviously with the 2010 World Cup coming up, we could look at investing in a reliable and safe transport system. But we don’t do that.

It’s no secret that anyone with half a brain will refuse to take the train in South Africa because it’s quite dangerous. True story.

Being South Africa we are of the opinion that we are going to be attacked by some unknown force who are definitely going to hit us from the ocean. Don’t worry about refugees getting through our border, which is nothing more than in invisible line where anyone can cross at their will.

South Africa will let crime roll on, they will let people through the borders, they will be unable to control some xenophobia violence but being the rock stars they are they will want to buy some boys toys. Basically being the “Motley Crue” of the rock star governments, South Africa are near number one when it comes to blowing money on utter crap. They are the hotel trashing rock stars of government.

In this months GQ magazine, we hear that our boys have broken their credit cards in half by purchasing three submarines which come in at a cool R2 billion each. Never mind that there are people starving, or we face an electricity crisis, or that out transport system is so disgusting that we all have to drive personal cars to work, or that we face a multitude of problems. When our boys want to have fun, they will damn well have fun!

The German built type 209 submarine. Good times!

Personally I would have spent the R6 billion on getting Jacob Zuma through a decent High School education. That way he will learn that showering after sex will not prevent AIDS. I would also get Manto Tshabalala Msimang through a High School education so she can learn that eating beetroot and sweet potatoes will not cure AIDS. Lastly I will get Thabo a degree in running a country, so that when violence breaks out, such as the recent xenophobic violence, he will realise that he actually needs to be in the country, and not touring the world. He will also learn to admit that there is in fact a crisis in Zimbabwe.

If I’m not mistaken, not long ago he said there was no crisis. Yeah…and the Pope is Jewish, lives in Sea Point and walks his poodles on the promenade on Monday mornings.

So anyway it’s clear that our boys from the navy have been watching way too much Entourage and they are trying to live like rock stars.

Apparently, according to the GQ article, “the primary role of the submarines is to defend South Africa’s interests and territorial integrity while also bringing to the region and the African continent ‘a significant strategic deterrent capability’ ”

Good God almighty, who is their speech writer? President Bush would approve! “significant strategic deterrent capability” AWESOME! What drugs are they using? It could be lucrative selling that stuff.

But these submarines are actually quite a good thing. Because I was down at Llandudno the other day when I noticed a definite sense of war in the air. I pulled out my scopes and cast an eye over the horizon. Lo and behold, the Germans were coming! God, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. We were definitely being attacked and this warranted the R6 billion pimp spending spree.

I then woke up and my coffee was cold and my dog was licking peanut butter off my balls. Yes, the German invasion was a bad dream.

I can just see what the navy shopping list looks like:

Three submarines

18 Brazilian supermodels, 6 for each submarine

60 barrels of whisky, 20 for each submarine

3000 condoms

Xanax, Oxycontin, Vicodyn and fourty eight bags of cocaine

Milk Thistle liver tablets

80 bags of weed

Unlimited supply of pizza for the munchies

Let us be honest for a second, who the hell is going to attack South Africa, FROM THE SEA? What are they going to take? Our oil? Our gold? Our ramp models? Our property?

I don’t think they are going to do that.

So I can confidently predict this winters blockbuster movie. We introduce to you a Busted Government film.

“Fear and Loathing in South Africa: Bitches, artillery and the PO-lice”

Starring Thabo Mbeki as the brain dead prez. JZ as the bitch slayer. Manto as the groupie. With Jacki Selebi Selebi as the evil villain and The Scorpions as the next extinct species.

Thabo. Thinking of his next drink and spliff session with JZ

They went where no government had gone before. They slept with each other to keep the group tight (And loose I suppose) They rocked out with their piece out and had warm showers. They cured AIDS all the while their people suffered. They laughed with Zimbabwe as they saw it collapse. They got drunk in hospital and then told their people that they were “Health ministers”

The biggest criminal mastermind group since Ocean’s 11 with unlimited bank supplies.

They came, they saw, they destroyed.

Now open at a South Africa near you.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

This car is what you would typically see a Bellville Bomber driving. There is a chance that a Parow Arrow might also drive something like this.

It’s typically the crowd that spend thousands kitting out their cars with sound systems (Rockford Fosgate- Try saying that when your two front teeth are missing), rims, jacuzzis, Microsoft X-Box’s and anything over the top like that. However, upon further questioning, you find out that they drive a million rand car and live in a R100000 house. Such is their education…

Try these rims on for size:

Rad.

Also the type of car a certain crowd will see and shout “Naai, kyk die Snoopdeville!”

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

So I spent a bit of time outside of the normal hood last week and spent a bit of time in the Epping area. Very interesting! Not really a Cape Town vibe, but an interesting place nonetheless. Some odd looking people, a bit of a Fish Hoek type of scene out there. Epping is in pretty bad shape, and it’s industrial and all that but then you see something that looks like it came straight out of Los Angeles. Cruising around I spotted this Hummer H3 by Bux Motorsport. A big yellow beast on the sidewalk with MASSIVE rims.

I actually wanted to put a baby next to the tyre to give you an idea of how big they were. But the backpack I carry with babies in it was left at home with Juan, my Mexican garden bitch. He waters and feeds the babies when I am out.

Check out this animal:

Naai, mos rolling on dubz

Now you must remember that this Epping/ Thornton is on the ass end of Pinelands and you will see clapped out cars driving through the area. You also see bakkies driving through the area with other cars on top of them, being taken to the scrap yard. And then like a shining beacon of light, we see a Hummer H3. The contrast is stunning! It’s bizarre.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Sometimes you think there can’t possibly be any more money and complete excess in this city and then something else comes along and blows your mind to pieces. Kids just run amok in Cape Town and I must admit, I’m fine with it. My school days were a little different at a public school where…you know…our parents were not quite in the same league as some of the other schools.

Look we still maxed out the fun though, from drawing disgusting things on the school board to throwing chicken skin onto the roof of Docs Biology class which earned me a nice little afternoon in detention, which is where the conceptualisation for SLXS came from. Actually it didn’t, but anyway.

So we all know about the Lamborghini that is seen at Bishops, but now there seems to be a new matric kid on the block.

I was driving through Rondebosch and saw, I think it was either a Bentley or a Rolls Royce, with the number plate “Matric 08″ Unfortunately I drive a monumentally slower car and so lost sighting of this beast and could not get a photo. So if anyone has a photo of this car, or sees it and manages to get a photo, it would be THE radness if you could e-mail it to me at [email protected] You know, so we can show people how kids in this city roll. Damn there is a lot of money floating around! These are the same kids that will finish school and go on to have disgustingly expensive cocaine addictions. Probably. Because cocaine’s a hell of a drug!

I highly doubt the car belongs to the parents of a Rustenberg girl or a SACS boy. I’m thinking along the lines of…Herschel.

I still remember being so broke in school I used to sell crack sandwiches to the kids outside the junior school. Because once you get the kids hooked young, they are customers for life. I still get a nice income from returning customers and with that money I buy small little things. Only small things though that the tiny bit of crack money offers. Like Michel Herbelin watches and Gucci sunglasses.

Drug money- Buys me nice lifestyle accessories

You think I’m joking? A lifestyle like this does not get earned through an honest living! I mean my name might not even be Sean.

Up until 6 months ago I thought everyone earned an income from selling crack. While most people see regular work as being an accountant or a doctor, I literally thought everyone made their money selling drugs.

I thought they called my dad “The Jackhammer” because he killed people with a Jackhammer if they did not pay him.

It turns out he used to work on construction sites when he was 19. Weird!

Look obviously I made all this up because it’s Friday and sometimes the truth is boring…this week nothing exciting has happened that is truthful and funny so I just had to make the drug thing up. It’s little things like this that constantly filter through my brain that have me thinking “I’m pretty sure my mom dropped me on my head when I was young”

Alternatively she smoked a crack pipe when she was pregnant. It’s definitely one or the other.

Or both…
Sean Lloyd

Editor

People have always been of the notion that you can’t afford to drink and drive because of the risks you pose to yourself and other innocent people. Which is common sense. Nobody should drink and drive.

It now seems that campaigns to discourage and prevent drinking and driving are no longer needed.

Because with the rising costs of petrol and alcohol, you literally cannot afford to drink and drive. Petrol costs obviously rise due to the price of oil worldwide rising, and people who drink in South Africa are punished by Trevor Manuel. He likes to call alcohol a “sin tax” Makes me feel like a criminal…

So now you obviously have to choose either to drink, or to drive. Because you can’t afford to do both!

Johnny Walker are on the right track in this regard:

Jannie Stapper: Stap Aan

It translates nicely into Afrikaans.
Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I always get a damn rim job when I’m on Holiday.

That shit’s not cheap!

I hear it’s like 50 bucks on Main Road…

Sean Lloyd

Editor