the one Nash will be giving a miss.

If next years festival clusterfuck has any chance of resembling this years nightmare I’ll be chilling in a quiet Cape Town enjoying two rounds of golf, dinners, long lunches and copious amounts of sex on a clean surface, possibly even a mattress that I cant feel the ground through.

I have run this through my head a few times and I really wanted to give you something positive. I wanted to share my awesome weekend with you. I wanted to tell you that Rocking the Daisies is THE music festival in South Africa. But I’m not going to lie. It was an outright fuck up.

I was there for the first year, which had its problems, but it was the first year and no one expected it to be perfect. Last year the organisers improved on their first effort and gave us an amazing weekend. This year was clearly about making money. Absolutely no thought was put into infrastructure, or so it seemed.

There were fewer toilets than last year even though the organisers knew the attendance would be huge. There were four toilets per field, there were about six fields, but not all were full. If there were four full fields, with four toilets per field, and there were 12 000 people (estimated attendance on Saturday), it works out to roughly 750 people per toilet. Now I’m not a plumber but I believe that equals an absolute shitfest. Extra toilets were delivered…on Saturday afternoon.

The queue to get in was another thing. I was there early on Friday, so missed the queue thank the lord. People, who had arrived after work on Friday, then queued for four hours or more were turned away. That is not like being bounced from a club, they had to drive back to Cape Town.

Then there was the pitch black main area with a stage set below ground level and the understaffed bar. At least I could hear the amazing line-up, the one thing that was phenomenal, well that and the booze. Booze was my friend this year and we did a lot of bonding. Of course, it may have been due to the sub-zero, gale force conditions.

Obviously there were other good things, and some more bad, but I’m not going to get into them now. Basically Rocking the Daisies 2008 was a massive disappointment. It’s going to take a lot of persuasion to get me to attend next year, because, to be quiet honest, I would rather spend the money on 36 holes of golf and a weekend of carbon emitting excess, than with a bunch of fucking hippies “going green” and trying to save the world buy serving coffee in recycled cups that burn my hand.

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takes the number one spot.

As THE WORST show on TV and Nash’s most hated thing in the world - EVER!

I first came across (not on) this “show” about a month ago. The Goose and I had just arrived home, after a manic night at Tiger Tiger, and decided to watch some late night porn on eTV, you know, to get us in the mood, whilst we drank out coffee – naked. That’s when we were hit with Brain Box.

It’s hard to explain fully, here is the description off their site:

“The new Brain Box and Glamour Night are live, interactive programmes that give you the chance to answer questions be put on hold for three days and win cash prizes spend copious amounts of money from the comfort of your favourite armchair whilst huddled in the foetal position due to grief and frustration induced pain. The programmes are presenter led and consist of a series of quizzes and game shows fucking impossible riddles that require you to be tripping on acid and psychic where viewers contact the studio to compete for cash prizes increased cell phone debt.”

Now I’m not sure if you know this, but I know everything. Well, actually, that’s a bit of a lie. Between Mikey P and I, we know everything. He obviously wasn’t there (watching Brain Box) with me, stroking my inner thigh and nibbling on my ear, that was the Goose, and between us we don’t know everything. That was not going to deter me from phoning in.

The puzzle seemed simple enough, something about seven cats going to the market, a few pictures of cats, and some numbers. The question – “how many cats are there?” I tried EVERY fucking combo of the above three elements and got nowhere close, not only that, but every person that got through, which is impossible, was giving totally different answers to the ones I was coming up with. Was I missing something?

Needless to say I didn’t even get through to the whore at the end of the line. God, she is something else, a cross between Noleen and the Brand Power chick. She is that bad. Anyway, it’s R7,50 a minute, or something like that, and the fuckers keep you on hold for about 70 seconds (a minute and 10 seconds), then drop you like some R10 hooker.

In my drunk, and therefore lizard brained state, I took this personally and made it a point to get through. I sat for ages trying to get through. Clearly something went wrong because I awoke a few hours later, naked, cell phone in hand and on the floor. The Goose had abandoned me. Ashamed, embarrassed and unsatisfied, I decided to never speak of the incident, until now.

Last night I got home from poker around 12, as I normally do on Poker Night Monday, grabbed a little snack and settled down to watch a bit of Steven Segal. I knew he would be on eTV. After 11pm + Monday night + eTV = Steven Segal. FACT.

Alas, it was not to be. I was greeted by a very well groomed and make-up cover Indian fellow. Not the bow and arrow variety, the gold chain and ten-ring-per-hand type, and he was winking, pouting and razing his eyebrow at me.

eTV, what the fuck are you trying to do to me, and South Africa? Do you not know that late night TV is reserved for cheap, badly lit porn or B-grade action movies? It is definitely not the time to air, what is most certainly, a scam. Your target market is the day time viewer, get your shit straight.

I did a bit of digging and apparently Brain Box is the bastard child of Quiz Call, a show in the UK that was pulled after its producers admitted to manipulating the results. Though, in the defence of Brain Box, our little show has managed to gain quite a fan base. A fan base that wants to gouge out the eyes of the producers and skull fuck them.

Here are an example of two of their scams.

Count the kilos…

Answer: 207kg

Count the Rands…

Answer: R43

Ya, what the fuck.

Anyway, I have gone on far too long, and I feel like I could really get into this one though, possibly even get personal about the presenters mothers and the size of their vaginas. But I won’t. All I want is an explanation, or some proof that someone has won and Steven Segal, and porn.

If Steven Segal and your usual smut are not aired at their usual times, and my questions not answered, I shall burn down the Brain Box studio, and slap every Brain Box Presenter, before drowning them in the men’s room urinal.

You have my word.

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I wish that was a real headline.

I wish it with all my heart. I listened to the two IDIOTS, not intentionally, for a few minutes today. Chrrrrrist! Someone please grab a syringe, call a Nigerian and hook up some cocaine, then inject that gear DIRECTLY into my fucken eyeball!
Grant Nash (absolutely NO relation) was banging on about what the fatty Anele would not eat. He couldn’t name a thing. The cow eats everything! Obviously a lot of it as well. This is her profile picture on 5fm. Bare in mind that this was the best picture they could get of her. It probably involved a full day photo shoot with an effing magician. Make sure you are sitting down.

Are you surprised she eats anything? NO! Why? Cause she is a hippo! I think she is even eating in the picture, is that a chicken mayo wrap standing next to her? It’s not? Well, whatever it is, it’s about as useful as dog shit on the bottom of your shoe.
If I was Grant I would constantly be on the alert. One day Anele is going to launch out of her chair and suck him down like a piece of spaghetti. Then she will choke on his belt as she tries to belch it up, resulting in her death. Ok, maybe not her death, just damaged vocal cords? Then both of them would never be able to vomit over a microphone again, infecting the airwaves with their bull shit.
5FM has made a BIG mistake hiring these to ignoramuses. I have not read one positive thing about them, nor have I heard anything good from anyone I know – young or old. My best part of the day is when I know I can turn on the radio and not hear them.
It sounds as if they get their content off the back of a fucking Chappies wrapper. It is so staid and unoriginal. Their ability to deviate from their planned topics and points, which I imagine are on a giant board with coloured pictures right in front of them, leaves much to be desired, don’t even get me started on how they handle live callers.
This is putting me in a bad mood.
They are useless!
Rant over.

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