when the hightlight of your evening is a hotdog....

so last night started of bad. went to tiger tiger, where we were told we need someone of the female persuasion with us. so, with typical capetonian ingenuity, we get two girlies outside the place who agrees to say that we came with them. on getting to the door, they asked the girls their id's and of course they dont have it. so we were left stuck again. no problem, we get two more girls who agree to our proposal. at the door, the doorman asks the girls if they know us. for some reason they cant seem to answer the damn question....anycase we didnt go in. so we decide to make our merry way to ministry of sound. now, back in sa, i was under the impression that ministry is the holy grail of clubbing. oh, first we went to a little pub around the corner from ministry where some white pommie suffering from an identity crisis, he wasnt sure if he was black or not, (he had the wlalk and the talk, just not the pigment) wanted to take me on for, as he says: " giving him disrespect in front of his fine female companions and would appreciate it if me and my bitches would apologize." now, in between laughing my ass of and repeating his little littany, he reaches for an empty beer bottle, which makes me laugh all the more. eventually his girlfriend or companion as he so romantically calls it, talk sense into him and he puts the bottle down and leaves the pub with her, doing some 50 cent shuffle on his way out. so after this, still chuckling to myself, we went to the fabled ministry. good thing we knew one of the dj's playing, otherwise we would have had to pay. and we walk into the hallow halls that is the mecca of clubbing......bwhahahahahahaha!!! what a load of horse shit!! the club itself is kinda nice, but the people blow, the music....well lets just say i can make better music with my armpits. it was rubbish...dunno if it gets better if they hold a nukleuz party or something similar, but i can honestly say that was the worst clubbing experience of my life. and for some reason the women there think that they are all supermodels, cause when you accidently brush past them, trying to sorta grind out something that looks halfway decent to kak music, they whirl around and glare at you as though you have just commited some heinous crime. ffs, they should come to cape town and meet some of my exe's, maybe they can come down to reality. so, we leave.....stepping out into drizzling sunday morning. i missed cape town then...a lot. dont get me wrong, london has got a few things going for it, but never will it even begin to compete against cape town. so we buy two hotdogs and make our way home .....away from the bore that is ministry of sound