Archive for April, 2010


Tell The Tiger (Episode 5)

Ok, there’s no fucking Tell The Tiger today, I’m tired ok? Tired of sorting out you guys and your messy fucking lives, and also just plain tired of this week and ready to throw the fucking towel the fuck in.

So all I’m going to do is post the following picture of an unbelievably hot mamasita with a really lousy tattoo.



Thank you, thank you.

Have a killer weekend guys!



Slippin’ up!

Hey all you crazy kids!

I’ve let things slide on the site the past couple of days, but it doesn’t mean I love you any less ok? C’mere, let’s hug it out, there there…

So in return for being such a crap blogger of late, I’m going to recommend two things I’ve discovered recently VERY HIGHLY because I think they’ll better your life and that’s what Them’s Fightin’ Words is all about.

Ok, thing number one is a whisky I had the pleasure of tasting on Monday evening that pretty much melted my mind into a thick, gloopy mess it was so incredible.

It’s one of the whiskies that fall under the Suntory group (like from Lost In Translation remember? ‘For relaxing times, make it Suntory time’).



See, the story goes that in 1923 Suntory’s founder, Shinjiro Torii began Japan’s first whisky distillery in Yamazaki, on the outskirts of Kyoto. Ahh, Kyoto! I hear you say. Yes! Kyoto! The Japanese city famed the world over for it’s exceptionally high quality drinking water.

And any whisky drinker worth his salt knows that water is one of three ingredients that goes into whisky. See where I’m going with this?

In 1973, Suntory introduced a range of whisky called ‘Yamazaki’ and I shit you not, the Yamazaki 18 year old is some of the best whisky I’ve ever tasted IN MY LIFE.

AND at R1,300 a bottle, it’s dirt cheap!… Um… if you just won the lottery or robbed a bank or something…



The other killer discovery I made is the movie The Men Who Stare At Goats. I got my hands on a pre-release copy, how badass is THAT!

Yeah! Pity it was only the first 17 minutes of the movie, but MAN, those 17 minutes were so fucking funny I just about laughed my ass clean off, which is saying a lot cause 90% of the ‘funny’ movies I watch elicit a few chuckles and that’s about it.

Here’s an idea of how rad it is.

Opening scene: Close up on a guy with an immaculate grey moustache’s face. He is staring with unmatched intensity DIRECTLY AT YOU. We cut to a slightly wider, head and shoulders shot of the same dude, he’s sitting at a desk in army uniform, still STARING DIRECTLY AT YOU.

Fuck he is intense.

Cut back to the close up for a few more seconds. ‘Boone’ the guy says, ‘I’m going into the next office.’

Moustache-man stands up abruptly and sprints AS FAST AS HE CAN across the room only to collide with full force into the opposite wall.

He collapses on the floor and stares furiously at the wall.

‘Damnit’ he growls.



So probably what you need to do for a really fun night is buy a bottle of Yamazaki 18 year old and drink THE WHOLE THING whilst watching The Men Who Stare At Goats.

It’ll be a night you never forget… OR REMEMBER!

In other news, I’m going to win an X-Box, and not just any X-Box, but an X-Box Elite! Sometimes being the most badass writer on the face of the PLANET has its uses.

This is one of those times.

Until tomorrow.



Blogging Against All Odds

I just want you to know that while I’m writing this ,my loving girlfriemd is tikling me relentlessly, trying to give me a wet wilkly, biting me and trying to slip a digit up my butt.

Which is why I’m sure you;ll understand, I cant’ blog today.





Approaching Post 200

I did the craziest thing this weekend, I went back through this site, right back to the first post and systematically logged everything I wrote last year. I would have logged everything I wrote this year as well, but didn’t have enough time, I’ll get around to that tomorrow.

It was a really useful exercise though, it reminded me how much great content I’ve banged out over the 7 months since I started this blog and also gave me a whole bunch of ideas how I can streamline this site and make that content easier for first time visitors to find.

Meanwhile, I’m steadily approaching Post Number 200, an event I plan on celebrating by throwing a huge party with lots of midgets with serving trays full of cocktails velcroed to their heads. I’ve always wanted to do that, I think I saw it in a movie one time.



Post 200, to me, is like some kind of magical Shangri-La. They say after 200 posts you are able to achieve incredible feats like get 5,000 views in one day just by posting a picture of a bear in a tutu or achieve $15,000 in advertising revenue just by randomly writing words like NIKE! or KFC! in your posts, followed by exclamation marks.



But in all seriousness, I’m proud of how this blog is progressing. As is stands there is a solid core of about 350-400 people who are hitting this site everyday, which I aim to grow to 1,000 by the end of the year.

It’s been my life’s mission since as far back as I can remember to become a great writer and write a work of fiction that will make a lasting and significant contribution to human kind and this site is what’s going to help me achieve that goal.

But it’s nothing without you.

So thank you, wherever you might be, here on home soil or sitting somewhere across the ocean, for reading these words. They’re all I got right now, these crazy fightin’ words, but I know that if I can just find the right ones, and string them in the right order at the right time with the right people reading them, like a row of lucky sevens all falling into place, thousands of casino tokens are going to come spilling out of the one armed bandit that is life.

And then you’ll see midgets with velcro head trays, man-o-man 😉

Until tomorrow.



Tell The Tiger (Episode 4)

This week’s Tell The Tiger marks a whole new era in this little project of mine because, I’m proud to say, after receiving a whole slew of emails from guys, I FINALLY received one from the fairer sex!

Fuck! It was awesome, I nearly fell off my goddamn chair. It’s like when the girl from next door somehow figures out the secret codeword to get into the boy’s tree house where she then proceeds to skin you and your mates for all your pocket money in exchange for up a peak up her skirt.

What?! Like you wouldn’t have. To this day, Minnie Mouse never looked so goddamn adorable…



Where was I… oh ya, a GIRL wrote in this week and so I’d like us all to give her a warm, Tell The Tiger therapy group welcome.

Coffee’s free, but I see someone ate all the doughnuts. Nice guys. Very classy.

Right, so let’s get to it. Here’s what she sent:

Hi Slick,

I’m worried my boyfriend of nine months is cheating on me. We live together and I intercepted a message on his phone last week that said, ‘I want you so badly right now’ that came from a number I didn’t recognise. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all, and said it was just a completely random sms that went to the wrong number, but he’s been acting wierd lately and doesn’t have the appetite for sex that he used to. The thought of him with someone else makes me sick, but the thought of losing him is worse.

I read all his cell phone messages last week, but didn’t find any others from that number, he walked in before I could read his sent items though. He says he’s stressed from work and the long hours and that’s why he doesn’t want sex and that things will go back to normal once he’s done with the big project he’s working on.

Am I overreacting? I want to trust him, but that sms really freaked me out.

Confused !

Ok, Confused (I’m just gonna call you ‘Conny’ if that’s ok?).

Conny. To be quite frank with you, my tigey-sense (yes, I just did that) tells me there’s another side to this story that you’re not telling. You ‘intercepted’ a message on his cell phone? What are you, a GESTAPO SPY?



Never read a man’s cell phone messages or email inbox unless it is with his express permission. Did it make you feel good, finding that message? Did it feel good to snoop around behind your boyfriend’s back and read his inbox? Sure, maybe if you were a GESTAPO SPY it would have made you feel good, but I’m betting you’re just a regular human and it made you feel like crap.

As for the message itself, I dunno, it does seem a little peculiar. The only messages I’ve ever gotten that went to the wrong number have been ‘Please call me’s from people with names like Jabusizwe, Promise, and a guy I let sleep on our couch once for a few weeks because (according to his sign board at the traffic lights) the police arrested his elephant for smoking.

BUT it is entirely within the realm of possibility that someone just sent him the wrong message. Possible. Not probable. But possible.

The sex thing could definitely be work-related. When a man’s tired, he’s less likely to initiate sex and a lot of women don’t have the confidence to fire things up themselves because, let’s face it, men are usually horny bastards who need no encouragement.



Try initiate things if you haven’t already, if this still doesn’t work, at least give him the benefit of the doubt until whatever this ‘big project’ he’s working on is over. If things don’t spice up after that, watch for the following tell-tale signs he’s cheating:


  • He smells like woman’s perfume, and not your perfume (though, in a way that would be more fucked up) someone ELSES perfume
  • He has fresh condoms in his wallet / glove box / dinner jacket he went out in for a company function only to come back at 4 in the morning smelling like VAGINA
  • There are hairs in your bed, long ones, that aren’t yours
  • There is a woman in your bed, shedding that hair while she rides your boyfriend like a merry-go-round pony, that isn’t you


In all seriousness though, there is only ever one rational answer to the question ‘Am I overreacting?’ when asked by a woman, and that answer is ‘yes’.

Confront him with your fears if this weirdness persists, you owe him that much. Otherwise let that sms go and always remember, if he thinks he’s found someone who is better than you, cut that stupid asshole out of your life and move on because clearly he doesn’t know a good thing when he finds it 😉

Hope this helps!



Remember, if you have difficulties with life in any way, size, shape or form, you too can Tell The Tiger by simply mailing him on and he will do his level best to address your troubles or your money back!


The Truth Behind ‘No Woman, No Cry’

I’ve got a weird obsession when it comes to collecting music trivia that can be matched only my my good buddies Guitar Jon and Mr. D, who could tell you what colour underwear Keith Richards wore when he played Woodstock ‘69.

But one of my favourite pieces of music trivia is about the Bob Marley song ‘No woman, no cry’ and was told to be by my good buddy Stikey on yet another nameless drunken night spent in a nameless drunken bar.

I love this piece of trivia for two reasons, one because basically EVERYONE knows ‘No woman, no cry’ and two because basically everyone who’s heard it has never given a moment’s thought as to what it means.

I mean, it’s not rocket science, right? He’s singing about how if you don’t have a woman, you won’t cry, ie. cut the bitch loose, problem solved.

Sounds a little cynical for a man who dedicated his life to spreading the message of peace, love, understanding and respect to our fellow man, no?

Damn fucking right it does!

As it turns out, the original version of the song was sung slightly differently than the live version which made it famous. In the original, Marley was singing, ‘No woman, nuh cry’ which becomes hugely significant because the word ‘nuh’ is Jamaican for don’t.

He’s not saying ‘No ho = no heartbreak’ he’s singing a song to his wife Rita, telling her not to cry for him when he leaves.



Originally I’d heard that he recorded the song during the self-imposed two year exile he took from Jamaica after the politically-motivated assassination attempt on his life, but the dates don’t add up right.

All I can surmise is that the song was recorded during a time in his life when he was travelling abroad to record overseas.

He was on a mission that man and even though I’m not a huge reggae fan, I respect Bob Marley because he was a true prophet and a man who changed this world for the better and who’s music will exist for as long as we do.

He was a great man. He died at 36, and his last words to his son Ziggy were, ‘Money can’t buy life.”

Money can’t buy life.



Album Review: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club – Beat The Devil’s Tattoo

You know it’s time to get a new drummer when the one you’re using goes onstage to accept an award and is so wasted that instead of making an acceptance speech, he just stares silently at the audience for a full nine minutes.

Not that I’m judging, fuck, I think it’s brilliant! Even though it happened way back at the 2003 NME Awards, when the infamous Black Rebel Motorcycle Club drummer Nick Jago went onstage to accept the Best Video award, the story refuses to die. It was a perfect ‘fuck you’ moment in rock and roll history and one that perfectly defines this band.



Black Rebel Motorcycle Club have been around a good ten years, during which time they’ve recorded six studio albums, all of which, in my humble opinion, have been surprisingly excellent.

There’s just something about this band’s garage rock meets blues meets psychedelic 70s rock meets folk revival that really speaks to me and always has.

Put it this way, if you’re looking for music to drink whisky to while you drown the memories of the last beautiful and bad-hearted woman who crossed your path, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club is the band for you.

Needless to say, I have every album they ever recorded (except the instrumental one, The Effects of 333, I don’t do instrumental albums, they creep me out) including one of my favourite albums of all time, the masterpiece that was 2005’s Howl. It’s loaded with more references to the Devil than a Quaker sermon, but hot damn! You know you’re onto something good when the first line sung is “Time won’t save our souls…”



The new album, in a lot of ways is more of the same. They had to cut Jago loose a second time and they replaced him with a girl (Leah Shapiro, formerly of The Ravonettes) but she sure as hell doesn’t play like a girl.

What you’ll find on this album is the same mixture of hedonistic, booze and drug fuelled old school rock that this band has made a name for themselves playing. There are no major curveballs on this album, there are no ‘what the fuck was that?’ moments and I’m totally fine with that because there’s enough depth and song writing skill in BRMC to keep things interesting without having to reinvent the wheel.



Let’s be honest for a moment here, how could you not love a song like “Conscience Killer” (track 2) which drives like a Royal Enfield and has the lines “I’m a fine line teaser / Never been nothing but a cheater / I’m a son of the night / Give me a little room and I’ll spit in your eye.”

“River Styx”, with it’s snaking bassline is also instantly likeable. It oozes evil as it slinks through the shadows of Hayes’ droning vocals and the sick, grinding tones of his squealing guitar riffs. It’s a masterpiece of sleaze.

But you’ll find quieter moments on this album as well, reminiscent of Howl. Tracks like the gospel / revival folk ballads “Sweet Feeling” and “The Toll” prove that there’s a lot more to this band than a bunch of songs it’s fun to get roaring drunk to.

Singer and frontman Peter Hayes’ voice has changed a lot over the years and you can hear it on a track like “Sweet Feeling” where his voice effortlessly hits five or six notes, clear as a bell in one sustained legato.



Of course there are a couple of duds which mar this otherwise great album – “War Machine” and “Half-State” for example, both of which insomniacs the world over should be grateful for – but it is very seldom that an album is without duds.

My rule of thumb is this – if an album has four killer tracks on it or more, you’ve got your money’s worth which is exactly what you’ll get with Beat The Devil’s Tattoo. It isn’t going to win any major awards, it isn’t going to make a huge or lasting impression in most people’s lives, BUT it is going to make a great companion the next time a girl fucks you up and like a good friend, it will tell you what a bitch she was and party with you till you’re good and drunk.

Final verdict: 8/10

A Word From The Kind Folks At Nokia

April 2010