Pic by Tarty Fart Tequila Party
There I was. Surrounded by media types and the general beer drinking public. Frauleins scurried up and down, laden with all manner of beery goodness as the strains of traditional Ooompah music entwined the raucous chatter of the soon to be inebriated masses. Snacks were served. Silly hats were donned and novelty facial hair applied. Heaven is a large beer hall filled with the sounds of happy revelry and clinking beer tankards!
Yes, ladies and germ(an)s, last night I had the enviable pleasure of attending the TOPS Bierfest in Newlands as the plus1 of Fraulein Tarty Farty Tequila Party. Everything was laid out for us, being "media" and pretty soon we were blathering away with our table mates, fueled by the never ending supply of top class beer and an assortment of traditional German snacks. Pretzel crumbs and laughter filled the air! The beer, a selection of Krystal Weiss, Munich Dunkel and something I can no longer remember the name of, was out of this world! Tatjana kept 'em coming and we kept knocking 'em back! Even the large fake mustache didn't stop Tarty from quaffing ale like a thirsty English coal miner.
The real Oooompah band replaced the recorded version and decided the assembled masses were just drunk enough to be exhorted into fun-time audience participation. In a horrifying deja vu moment from primary school, I was instructed to repeat the phrase "Oi! Oi! Oi!" every time they said something akin to "Tikka Takka Tokka!" It was all a little too "Ziggy! Ziggy! Ziggy!" for me and I decided to redouble my efforts to use up all the beer tokens I'd been given. I should have been grateful to the Oooooomph band...
...because before long they were replaced with a poor man's Noot-Vir-Noot ensemble, fronted by an over enthusiastic Nicholas Louw wannabe who thought he was Bryan Adams. The percussionist's enthusiasm bordered on psychotic, but came across like a short animated mop on hard drugs. Thankfully the main course arrived just in time to distract me. I could wax lyrical about the smorgasbord of Teutonic meaty ecstasy that mine eyes fell upon, but I'll leave you with the quote of the night, courtesy of Tarty, "Oooooh! I like the long sausage!" And then after some mastication and consideration, "But the short fat one is way more tasty!" Personally, I thought the Eisbein was the winner.
Then came the Jagermeister girls, tits akimbo and arses hanging out. Wearing barely enough to cover the rent, they turned all the men from their beer and into tweenage fangirls at a Bieber concert - hordes of grown men holding their cameras aloft in unison and shedding the occasional tear. I had a Jagermeister, but refrained from too much overt ogling. The poor dears, the only thing that apparently eclipsed the dearth of available cotton, appeared to be their combined IQ.
But oh, what a night! It was the night of nights! I drank so much delicious, heavenly, lip-smacking, awesome beer, I left sideways. Happiness, it seems, CAN be bought. The entire event was magical, foibles and all! The company was peerless, the food from the tables of the Gods themselves and the beer! Oh, the beer! Barley and hops - Heavenly Nectar be thy name!
We were even treated to a free ride home courtesy of the kind people at Goodfellas. Our driver was a lovely chap called Shiraaj Allie and he displayed remarkable patience and good grace dealing with two of the drunkest arseholes on the planet. Well, I was shitfaced, I can only assume Tarty wasn't too far behind. After being dropped at my house, we had a glass of wine. Obviously. As you do, when you have school in the morning.
Today has been hell...
Oh yes, and tonight we're off to see the fucking incendiary Sleepers and the mind blowing Ark Synesis, along with many others, at Summer Seance II. I'm gonna wee myself in public.
NGDG: They poisoned Arafat with polonium? Is this a joke? That stuff costs $10m for a lethal dose! That's pig money. Bacon the day, you'd just take a ham-mer to the guy's skull, boar a hole in his brakes, poison hi-swine.
Spread The Love. It Comes In Litre Tankards.