I received an mms on my phone (Well, it’s the HTC TYTN, so it’s more a lifestyle than a phone) from The Marketer on Sunday morning. It was a picture he must have just taken on his phone (also a lifestyle). It looked something like this (click to enlarge) :

"Octopus" – read the message on the phone

Oh my sweet fuck, I thought to myself, as I dialed his number, urgently wanting to know if this was a prank, or if Microsoft Paul Allan’s yacht, the fifth largest super yacht in the world, Octopus (the second largest not owned by a head of state) was actually docked in Cape Town.

"It’s there," he confirmed.

I must say I was a little miffed that I wasn’t first phoned, urgently, before time was wasted on taking a photo and mms’ing it to me. I mean, what if it suddenly had to leave!

I instinctively phoned The Entrepreneur and said I would pick him up immediately to go and have a look. We headed for the boat, two cameras on hand – just in case.

R100 got us through the security gate as we approached Octopus from behind (QUIETLY from behind). Enjoy these pics. Click to enlarge.

Octopus enjoys it from behind

A tidy shitter

A little chopper for the boys

Two words – Mind Fuck.

It’s like nothing you can imagine. The boys on The Atlantic Seaboard swooning over their Gallardo’s need to get everything into perspective and raise their game a little bit. Yachts like this shit out the likes of Cape Town’s previous perves, The Ferretti 761 (you might remember when Caprice took us out for a day on the Ferretti), from the side of the yacht just to get to shore.

Noting the two luxury 4X4’s parked next to the yacht, we agreed that although vast, wealth of this sort was certainly attainable. We just had to work a little harder. Please enjoy the helicopter on the back (one of three, including the Sikorsky S76). To the top-left of the zoomed in pics of the helicopter above, you will also note the basketball net above the garage.

I took the liberty of finding some pics on the web universe for you. These pics include, the submarine, the swimming pool, the downstairs bar and spa, a couple of the yacht’s tenders (part of seven boats docked in the yacht’s transom, used to fuck around with and get to shore).

Enjoy.

Here we see the naughty little Sikorsky S76 (one of three choppers) on the back

The pool deck. Note, the lower part of the boat in the pic is where
the chopper was parked earlier

A little bar and spa where we can hang out on jet ski’s

Make it a Windhoek, ship-mate!

Octopus farts out one of the "tenders"

One of seven "tenders"

Aah, look! Another one!

A quiet sub

So that was quite fun, hey? I don’t know how long the thing is in town but if it is still here you simply MUST try and take a look. It’ll blow your socks off. It’s parked at the harbour’s "D-berth." Turn right at the first circle as you come into the Waterfront’s main entrance – heading towards The Clocktower. Go straight and turn right at the next (might be one after) circle that comes up after that. Drive straight through and it’ll be on your left. Look carfefully cos there is a building in the way. You can get to a fence facing the front of the yacht quite easily which is more than enough to enjoy it. Or you can be a little crafty and also try your luck getting through the gate on the other side. Wear your smooth-talking shoes and visit and ATM before you go.

Have a good look at it.

Aim higher, guys.

We’re doing stealth-cool this season, boys and girls, and those in the know have already agreed on this season’s most sought after item. The Carlucci’s shopping bag.

With the overflow of Louis and Chanel on the Atlantic Seaboard it will be the hard-to-find locally exclusive, absurdly cool, distinctive symbol of of things understatedly hot – The Carlucci’s Bag.

Homer enjoys the Carlucci’s bag

I got mine today.

As a regular at Carlucci’s (one of the stop-offs on the Cape Town Super Circuit), one develops a rapport with the manager and people on the till. I gave it a full go this week and pumped our boy with a R10 note into the tip box next to the till (noting that there was a R20 there already – something they must SURELY plant there – to "set the tone" as it were). Anyway, he was impressed with my gusto and bid me an exuberant evening.

I went to Carlucci’s again this afternoon after a very exciting pre-summer cheeky hour-or-two on the beach. I was escorted through the shop and advised on what a great response the new Graham Beck sparkling was getting. I was amazed at the hands-on approach to service I was receiving. Giving in, I grabbed five of the bottles as I was awarded what was as close as one can get to a virtual applause from our boy.

We got to the till after agreeing that some people were indeed going to the beach today. We had a brief prayer session hoping and pleading that this was indeed summer breaking through after the HORRIFYING four-or-so months of winter we had managed to survive (as we (spoilt Capetonians) spend the whole of summer lamenting over how much longer it will last). It was at this point that the guy said to me, "Look, I’m going to give you one of these bags," as he looked at me with an expression that indicates that this is quite a big deal. I was well aware of the coolness and exclusivity that surrounds the simple, clean, distinctive canvas bags and acted normal, just DYING to get out of the shop so that I could celebrate in private.

So that’s it, people. I’ve got mine. I’m ready.

I’m seeing it on the beach this season; filled with towel, snacks, drinks, music, phone, wallet and pot.

I received an mms on my phone (Well, it’s the HTC TYTN, so it’s more a lifestyle than a phone) from The Marketer on Sunday morning. It was a picture he must have just taken on his phone (also a lifestyle). It looked something like this (click to enlarge) :

“Octopus” – read the message on the phone

Oh my sweet fuck, I thought to myself, as I dialed his number, urgently wanting to know if this was a prank, or if Microsoft Paul Allan’s yacht, the fifth largest super yacht in the world, Octopus (the second largest not owned by a head of state) was actually docked in Cape Town.

“It’s there,” he confirmed.

I must say I was a little miffed that I wasn’t first phoned, urgently, before time was wasted on taking a photo and mms’ing it to me. I mean, what if it suddenly had to leave!

I instinctively phoned The Entrepreneur and said I would pick him up immediately to go and have a look. We headed for the boat, two cameras on hand – just in case.

R100 got us through the security gate as we approached Octopus from behind (QUIETLY from behind). Enjoy these pics. Click to enlarge.

Octopus enjoys it from behind

A tidy shitter

A little chopper for the boys

Two words – Mind Fuck.

It’s like nothing you can imagine. The boys on The Atlantic Seaboard swooning over their Gallardo’s need to get everything into perspective and raise their game a little bit. Yachts like this shit out the likes of Cape Town’s previous perves, The Ferretti 761 (you might remember when Caprice took us out for a day on the Ferretti ), from the side of the yacht just to get to shore.

Noting the two luxury 4X4’s parked next to the yacht, we agreed that although vast, wealth of this sort was certainly attainable. We just had to work a little harder. Please enjoy the helicopter on the back (one of three, including the Sikorsky S76). To the top-left of the zoomed in pics of the helicopter above, you will also note the basketball net above the garage.

I took the liberty of finding some pics on the web universe for you. These pics include, the submarine, the swimming pool, the downstairs bar and spa, a couple of the yacht’s tenders (part of seven boats docked in the yacht’s transom, used to fuck around with and get to shore).

Enjoy.

Here we see the naughty little Sikorsky S76
(one of three choppers) on the back

The pool deck.
Note, the lower part of the boat in the pic
is where the chopper was parked earlier

A little bar and spa where we can hang out on jet ski’s

Make it a Windhoek, ship-mate!

Octopus farts out one of the “tenders”

One of seven “tenders”

Aah, look! Another one!

A quiet sub

So that was quite fun, hey? I don’t know how long the thing is in town but if it is still here you simply MUST try and take a look. It’ll blow your socks off. It’s parked at the harbour’s “D-berth.” Turn right at the first circle as you come into the Waterfront’s main entrance – heading towards The Clocktower. Go straight and turn right at the next (might be one after) circle that comes up after that. Drive straight through and it’ll be on your left. Look carfefully cos there is a building in the way. You can get to a fence facing the front of the yacht quite easily which is more than enough to enjoy it. Or you can be a little crafty and also try your luck getting through the gate on the other side. Wear your smooth-talking shoes and visit and ATM before you go.

Have a good look at it.

Aim higher, guys.

Everybody knows that it is not often that one truly captures the sunset in a photograph. People who show holiday photos of sunset after sunset, do not realise that they mean pretty much fuckall to the person they’re showing them to. It means the world to the guys who went on holiday.

Like this photo I took last night from The Safe House over Camps Bay.

ANOTHER sunset!

But the photo is not the point, you see. The point is that Capetonians constantly take photos where they live. They keep countless pictures of sunsets and everything else.

And they’re not even on holiday!

How many cities’ inhabitants do that?

Not a lot.

FACT.

Says a lot.

Andrew James sent in the last TBG sighting and mentioned that a few of his colleagues had a group photo with The TBG (Tall Blonde Guy). He said they would be sending it in to 2oceansvibe. I forgot about it completely until I received the following email and photograph from The Celebrity MC.

It sounds like the boys had a very special night out with none other than The TBG!

John Smit, Johann Muller, The TBG, Butch James and el Monty

Hi Seth,

It’s not often celebrity behaviour takes me by surprise, but occasionally even my eyes are opened; cue a night of quiet indulgence at FTV a couple of weeks ago. A number of Springboks were taking a well-deserved break from their World Cup training program, enjoying a relaxed night out, and receiving the encouragement and adoration that (as we both know) comes with star status.

And then something quite magical happened… I’ve had the honour of meeting the TBG on one or two occasions; quite simply, the only other person I’ve spent time with who comes anywhere close to exuding the same aura is Samuel L Jackson, and even Sam doesn’t boast the same mystique and intrigue. That the TBG affects people so is common knowledge; still, to see the reaction of the rugby stars was startling. As the TBG glided down the stairs to model-packed basement, Percy Montgomery grabbed hold of Bob Skinstad and pointed excitedly; both men looked like kids on Christmas morning. John Smit actually dropped his drink; Jaque Fourie looked like he’d been hit with a stun gun; and Butch James and Wynand Olivier, with nervous apprehension and a little giggling, approached the TBG to get an autograph. The TBG was his magnanimous self, greeting each player in turn, shaking hands, having a quiet word. Skinstad had a tear in his eye when the TBG told him that South Africa thanked him for returning home – that such mundane detail does not escape his eye is further evidence of the TBG’s grandeur.

Then, suddenly, he was gone, leaving an excited chatter of Springbok stars; if South Africa does go on to win the World Cup, then the simple touch of the TBG, and a few words of support to our rugby heroes, might well have made the difference.

Yours in reverence,

The Celebrity MC

OH

MY

GOD

There is only one word to describe what you experienced and I mean in the true real meaning of the word – AWESOME!

And that photograph! Look at the EXCITEMENT on John Smit’s face! Christ! That’s like a World Cup win. Amazing! And Monty! Well, Monty is just looking exceptional as usual.

But back to that story! That is nothing but AWESOME!!! I mean, there you were, WITNESSING a live gauge showing The TBG’s level of superstardom. Well, it’s just awesome! To see our rugby stars swooning of The TBG must surely put it all into perspective. Only now can we even begin to get our heads around the enormity of the great man’s influence and grande aura.

I just thank God every day for The TBG.

God probably thanks The TBG himself every day.

The TBG probably pulls his hand away and wipes it through his hair as God tries to give him high fives.

God will have The TBG’s number on his speed dial.

TBG probably lost God’s number.

Is the TBG God?

So Thursday was a holiday and nothing had been planned for Wednesday night. I was meant to be sick so didn’t want to drink a lot of alcohol (I have a weird recollection of a Doctor, somewhere, telling me that “a little bit of alcohol is actually quite good for you”). I had given G-man a guilt trip recently about neglecting me and we agreed to do some “boys time” at Opium on the beach (Caprice is being renovated and I’d rather go down on Manto than deal with Tuscany Beach). G-man said there was a pool table at the back of Opium and the novelty of playing pool next to the beach appealed to our senses. We drank a bottle of JC le Roux sparkling at The Safe House (sorry Mum, the Pierre Jourdan was finished and someone gave the JC as a gift) and rumbled down the hill for a spot of pool.

Shame

The muffshow began when we ordered two whiskeys and acknowledged to the barman that we would like to start a tab. The barman asked for a credit card to secure the tab, which I handed over as we walked towards the pool table. G-man and I had already started the “you know I’m going to kick your ass” banter, when the barman shouted out something that sounded like “mehvarentou shia bwemer.”

“WHAT?!?!?!” I asked, squinting my eyes as I turned back from what was a very excited walk towards the pool table.

I walked ALL THE WAY BACK to the bar and asked what could possibly be the issue that is holding me back from my first “on-the-snap-Vincent” Color of Money break I was about to give.

“Your name” was all the barman said, as he waved my credit card in the air – referring to the tab that he was starting.

“My name,” I asked?

“Is that a sentence? What about my name? Don’t you like it,” I enquired – confused.

“I need your name for the computer so I can start a tab,” came out of his mouth.

“Well, let’s think about it,” I suggested. “Why don’t you put it under ‘theonlypeoplehere’ or ‘pooltable’ OR, now this is just thinking out the box, YOU COULD LOOK AT THE NAME ON THE CARD YOU’RE HOLDING IN YOUR HAND WHICH FEATURES MY NAME IN CAPITAL LETTERS – RO THER HAM.”

Christ!

I returned to the pool room and took in my surroundings. There was a toilet door at the corner of the room, RIGHT next to the pool table. The door had no handle on it and it turned out that this was THE bathroom for the entire establishment – boys AND girls. It’s quite cool for a chick to take a pee 15 inches away from two men drinking whiskey, playing pool. Nice vibe.

We settled into a number of games of pool as The Kitesurfer arrived, sending the night into a rude spiral. More pals arrived so we ordered some plates of snacks. The average calamari went well with the plastic chicken pieces – some taste was needed in the form of Tabasco sauce. The waiter informed us that there was no Tabasco sauce and after a few minutes, without our insisting, the manager arrived asking if we were the people looking for some form of hot sauce. After educating him that Tabasco fans are looking for a specific taste rather than a burn, and, looking for any sensation besides that given by cardboard, I relented to his offer of a ‘hot-sauce’ made by his very hands.

He returned when we were near the end of the chow and the Thai Green Curry Sauce (Huh!!!???) went quite well with the left over chips.

I would say that the other door next to the loo door, leading to outside, which couldn’t close, was definitely a feature of the evening. There was CONSTANT heavy-duty staff-traffic going in-and-out of the door the whole evening. There was a helluva draft and we were left with no option but to pile two handy bricks (have we not finished building, nearly a year on?) against the door to keep it closed. The humour of staff knocking the bricks over when opening the door provided a distraction from the bitterly cold air breezing in from outside (ex-pats will be pleased to know that we are having the ODD chilly moment in Cape Town).

We also amused ourselves by plugging in a concert-type red spotlight which was lying around next to the cigarette machine. Very odd – but useful when trying to compensate for a negative ambience.

It was good humour and a clear indication as to why Opium on the Beach finds itself consistently empty. I mean REALLY, what is going on?!? There were even builders walking in and out of the door next to the pool table, carrying stuff – THE WHOLE TIME! On a Wednesday night! After 8pm! Carrying all SORTS of shit. Doors, planks, sheets of metal…. What the fuck is going on, man? Are you KIDDING me? We’re trying to have a fucking game of pool here? What are you building? Is there a secret MINE SHAFT underneath here? (Racist?)

Very bizarre vibe. It was quite obvious that the only thing left to do was to ascend upon the party happening at Ignite which was the kind of party I’ve been needing for a while – even though it took Dale QUITE some time to sort us out with the access problem we were having. You came through in the end, my love, and we thank you for that.

To the other Camps Bay commercial entities out there, the market is still WIDE OPEN for a little pool table vibe – let us know if you get one.

Now these are the kind of TBG sightings that make me melt! A Durban man who does business all over the country and sometimes the world, has finally timed a trip just right – bumping straight into the nation and world’s greatest saviour – The TBG (Tall Blonde Guy)!

Take a listen to what happened when Andrew J finally had his moment in the sun with the great man.

Clearly excited – Andrew J and The TBG

Hi Seth!

It’s true what they say, you never think it will happen to you! Well let me tell you now that is what I used to think, but I just want to tell everyone out there that they must never give up hope! One day you too could be granted that moment with The TBG – maybe you could even HANG with him like I did!

Let me give you some background. I’m in sales for a national company with offices in all the major cities of South Africa – I work for the Durban branch. Our industry is global, so as with most big industries, there are international award fairs and competitions every few years. This year it will be in France. My company chose the best of the best, out of all the national sales teams we’re busy training for this year’s competition in different cities all over South Africa. Last week we were in Cape Town. We always have a good time when the national sales team are together! The company has a great drinking culture so we went for a pint of Guinness at an awesome little Irish pub called Catu. It is where the old Fez used to be. Anyway we had a couple of pints and headed off to dinner at Haiku down the road.

I am only in Cape Town now and then and always thought that the randomness of my visits would count against me when it comes to fluking being at the the right place at the right time. It’s like trying to catch a cab at a bad time in London – it gets worse if you move around.

As I walked out the door of the pub I notice a bright white-hot light flash passed me. I kept walking and then just thought to myself…. “hang on…. what the fuck just happened back there?”

“Buggers,” I said to my pals. “Just hang on a second.” They stopped and turned their heads in the direction I was staring. Everybody’s jaws just fell to the floor! We all looked at each other and said, in unison, “OH……..MY……..FUCK!” Haiku could wait! We all bounded back into the pub and had a drink with The TBG! Not that I did much talking. It’s not easy to act 100% normal when you’re secretly analysing every move someone makes. I tried to remember little things that he did and said, but all I can remember is just his awesome “vibe.” I guess that is what people mean when they talk about his “aura.” It was just so amazing meeting him. His hands are so big and he just has this amazing calming atmosphere all around him. It’s incredible!

We were all very aware that we had landed with our asses in the butter and the boys organised an urgent group photo with The TBG. Has anyone sent that pic to you yet? Well anyway I was the only guy that managed to get a personal pic of just me and the genius.

Look closely at him in this pic with me. He is just so relaxed and cool.

Thanks for an awesome night TBG! Hope to run into you again on my next trip to Cape Town.

Cheers.

Andrew J
Absolutely AWESOME, Andrew J! I can’t believe your luck! I know what you mean about that London cab thing. I also think it is better to wait in one spot. Although I would say that a moment to yourself in The TBG’s company is more like hen’s teeth than London cabs!