DEARLY BELOVED, WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY...

...TO GET THROUGH THIS THING CALLED LIFE.

RIP Prince, the artist formerly known as many, many things. Genius, chief among these.

A good friend of mine commented that you couldn't get a word in edge ways with all the clamour from the trillions of Prince super fans the globe over. And he's right. But whilst no doubt he touched the lives of many, I reckon most of you would be hard pressed to mention songs beyond Purple Rain, Doves Cry, Kiss, Seven, or Cream. Rasberry Beret? What does Malema have to do with any of this?

Allow me to make a few simple observations:

1. Were it not for some thieving, conniving, bitch in high school I'd still have the majority of his collection. She was gorgeous so she got away with it.
2. Tom Jones is the anti-Christ for killing Kiss!
3. I actually owned a purple paisley button shirt in highschool.
4. I have an original copy of the Black album, which was recalled immediately after it was initially released.
5. The singular best cover I've ever seen performed live was when Andy Lund, Anton Marshall and Art Perreira did an impromptu rendition of 'Purple Rain'. Brought the house down.
6. I have a guitar named after one of his lewder songs...
7. Once, after enduring 'Purple Rain' being played over and over and over and over without respite (for days...) by Bennie in my army digs, I decided enough was enough and blasted him with some 'Gothic'. I returned to find all my belongings chucked out of the bungalow. Bennie was a dick. But I stole the chick he fancied, so fuck him...

Well that's it really. I was a big fan. Until I discovered Paradise Lost and my musical interests got decidedly darker. Nevertheless, to one of the greats, you may be gone, but your memory will live on, despite the fickle nature of social media's self appointed custodians.

"And I Saw An Angel Come Down Unto Me, In Her Hand She Holds The Very Key..."

Spread The Love. Let's Go Crazy.

TIP FOR THE LADIES. BUT JUST THE TIP...

HOW THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!?!?!

You can tell that with age comes responsibility. And that with responsibility comes a great big ol' dose of being a boring ol' doos. Or at least that there's less time to cavort about on this digital playground than there used to be.

Anyway, things being as they are, I have to confess to being too busy to bother with the likes of you. I have been forced into the uncomfortable clutches of adulthood proper and other than the salary, am not enjoying it one bit. I even bought kerkskoene. Yeah, I shit you not. Talk about taking it to the next level. Had to attend a wedding this weekend so thought for once I'd like not to be the oke in steel cap Docs instead of a more respectable option. I chose the one wedding which proved my entirely wrong, but more on that later...

One thing that did get me wondering about life, love and everything else was a comment made by someone at this wedding. A young lady was lamenting quite vehemently about her lack of boyfriend. Stories of being completely ignored at the bachelorette party were punctuated with loud whoops of victorious delight at out-scrummaging the competition and securing the bouquet. Allow me to put this into perspective. We're not talking about an unattractive young lady here. She was perfectly fine in conversation and had no apparent physical blemishes or defects. Yet felt entirely overlooked in the romance department.

So I stumbled upon this little advice piece I wrote ages ago detailing the right way for young men to go about luring young women to give them the time of day. And when I checked the comments section, one very special person argued that I should do one from the female perspective. Now I'm no female and I actually dislike Mel Gibson quite a bit, but thought perhaps it would make a nice re-entry point to my soapboxing.

Here goes... How to nab a guy in 10 ways:
Hide your psycho. We all have a little crazy in us, but if you're aware of elevated levels in yourself, leave that for a surprise for later.
Did I say 10 ways? I overestimated my grasp of the mystery that is woman.
Also, I just now fully realise that I'm about to go flouncing about in a potential mine field like Captain Pants, so for the sake of my safety, think a list of dos and don'ts is excessively dangerous.
Basically, go and read the article linked above and be yourself. Perhaps a slightly kinder, more respectful and compassionate version of yourself. Oh, and alluding to having zero gag reflex may score you some brownie points.
Fuck, there I went and did it anyway. Now all the feminazis are gonna have my arse on a platter.
Apologies. In a world of equal opportunity and a level of political correctness threatening to strangle the last vestige of joy left in this forsaken world, you too may "nudge, nudge, wink, wink" your way to your own series of orgasms.

Anyway, clearly I'm a bit rusty. Hope you've all been taking your meds.

NGDG: The wages of sin is death. After deductions and taxes it's more like chronic fatigue.

Spread The Love. I'm Back. And I'm Worse.