Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Month: August 2010 (Page 1 of 3)

Not C’ing

Every now and then I am struck by total advertising failure. Cell C’s new campaign with Trevor Noah is one of them. I didn’t understand the first one in the series, when he was doing the Cell C shake up, following people into the toilet, talking kak about the new logo and basically being a weird, like, guy in a suit. Now he is asking the main Cell C guy weird questions and asking how he ‘likes his coffee’ nudge, nudge, wink, wink. WTF? What’s that got to do with anything? But the biggest mistake for me is that the series is in that negative, try and catch the guy out vein. There is nothing less successful in an ad campaign than misplaced negativity. It makes everyone feel shit. And I can’t see how that sells the product.

Almost Spring

We have been up since sparrow fart, and we have already had two (smallish) cups of strong coffee, and it is only 6.18 and it is still very dark, but I’ve Got That Feeling. I can smell the Jasmine.

I know that it is still going to rain, and be freezing and winter is far from over, but there is that pre-sunrise Jasmine morning air, and it holds such promise. I love this time. It is a proper in between time. In Cape Town it is before the wind starts time. It is before the end of the year time. It is possibility time. It is whales in the bay time.

Having my boet in Cape Town means we do some touristy stuff, and on Sunday afternoon we hit Camps Bay for sundowners. Yo, yo, yo it was a scene I tell you. I can’t remember when last I was skeefed like that as we tried to find our tiny table of trend. Big Friendly kept hinting that we should just do Vida E but my boet was determined and we did find a lekker spot at a place that looked like it should have been full but wasn’t. Who knows why. I wish I could remember its name. We were in luck because they were doing R25 cocktails. So there we were, with Big Friendly and a pink girly drink that went straight to his head, my boet and his glass of Whiskey Sour and me and a margarita. Watching the sun set. And eating what Big Friendly and my boet called cajones (coujons). Damn fine for a local.

Fine, Fine Dirt

Dirt

It’s quite weird seeing James Cairns three times in a row on stage. I saw his last show The Sitting Man twice, and last night it was the opening night of Dirt, the second one man show he is performing at The Kalk Bay Theatre. Well, the guy is amazing. Amazing James. I am a bit in love with him for sure. You know when a performer just nails it for you? That’s him.

Dirt has similarities to The Sitting Man that can’t go unnoticed if you see them one after each other, like most of us in the audience did. I have to do a leetle comparison; I can’t help it. One man show, trip down to Cape Town, amazing typical South African characters, brilliant ideas, and everyone (and thing in this case because Tom the dog is vital!) played and made by James. The Sitting Man, however, was all James in that he wrote and directed it as well. Dirt is written by Nick Warren and directed by Jenine Collocot.

Dirt; a road trip with three guys and a dog on their way from Jozi to Cape Town to their poker buddy’s funeral. Soap actor, Jamie …. ag, Sam, who is an egomaniacal ‘me me me’ shagging machine, Grant, the new father who is fast going down that hole of his wife’s obsessive and post-natal depression behavior, and Wayne. Wayne’s name tells you exactly what kind of poor, unfortunate and typical fella he is. Just say “Wayne” with a bit of a whiny Jozi accent. And then there is Tom the dog. I swear, I felt like I knew everybody in this play (and I probably did!). James’ characterisation, timing, detail, and totally wacky observations are classic. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and Big Friendly said he thought I was having an asthma attack I was laughing so hard.

Dirt is funnier than The Sitting Man, but it is a lot less weird and dark. It’s more ‘written’ than The Sitting Man so it has some razor sharp dialogue from each character, but it is also more complicated and a little less successful because these guys have to talk to each other, so there are times when James has to hop about to be each one of them. Dirt is gorgeously directed by Jenine. I loved the ladder of props that became chapter headings. Loved it.

Ok, ok, I admit it. James Cairns is my new best thing. The guy could do an award winning performance of telephone book reading. Might have to see this one twice too!

Implo…huh?

Big Friendly and I have just come back from the most talked about non-event in the history of Cape Town. I am still laughing. Off we went to be with hundreds of other city and Woodstock folk to get a good view of the cooling towers before they came down. We found a parking above the Woodstock quarry and were looking for a good vantage point when we heard the crowd do a muted in gasp. They made more noise when the lights went down before Mamma Mia! started. I was looking at the towers when it happened, but Big Friendly was still trying to find a good spot. Pffft and a puff of smoke. Well before 12 o’ clock. That was it. What an anti-climax. In University Estate people were still gathering and handing out drinks when we got into the car and braved Upper Woodstock traffic to get home. Pffft. Big Friendly didn’t even have his lens cap off. My mother called while we were coming home. Apparently all the cameras set up missed it too, and it wasn’t even on TV.

A Dirty Game

I’ve been watching the rugby with Big Friendly, and it’s been a heartless, cruel affair, with the All Blacks getting away with murder. I don’t understand a lot of it, but it was a devastating loss for the Springboks. It’s one of the only times that Big Friendly has become Big Bully; he could not contain himself with the injustice of it all, and turned around and gave me a mouthful! What do I know? I can tell you that it was beautiful seeing the 90 000 strong crowd at the FNB stadium. I got a lump in my throat actually. It was great seeing the nasty, biased ref be taken out by Schalk Burger. It was touching seeing John Smit get his 100th cap.

I wish it was all over but now Big Bully wants to watch the Sharks take on Western Province, and we are a leetle split in terms of who we support. I’m a lot less invested, but I scheme, if you live in CT you should support WP. Big Bully’s theory is that you should support the team from the town you were born in. Which makes no sense at all because I’m sure he was born in Jozi. Anyway, he’s still upset. And so are all the men in our ‘hood.

Fiona Coyne

Word is flying around the internet about the death of Fiona Coyne, and the news has come as a huge, huge shock to her friends and colleagues in the industry. While she wasn’t a friend of mine, I definitely considered her a contemporary and she was exactly my age.

Fiona was queen of the bitchy one liner. She was an acid wit and a great playwright. She was Mrs Weakest Link South Africa. She also spent years doing my dream job, working with the Sheldrick foundation for orphaned elephants, in Kenya.

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