The proper MPH '09 and Top Gear Live Post

It was a bit of a busy and rocky weekend to say the least…

Of course we were unbelievably amped to be going up to Johannesburg for MPH, because well, it’s cool. What we didn’t know was that this would actually be a world of problems.

Problem 1 – We phone Kalula to enquire about our tickets the night before…just by chance…and apparently, they were never booked properly. Now THAT was fun. After a quick half an hour of panic though we had them booked and were on the way to the airport to pay for the tickets.

Problem 2 – Land in JHB and make our way through to the building with all the car rental places in. Oh…quick aside here…whilst walking toward this building you go past a little police outpost. Now, outside the police outpost is a little parking bay and a sign saying something to the effect of police only, fuck off. A lovely bright ANC vehicle was parked there though. It would have made a nice photo…why should we listen to signs and shyte when our ruling party couldn’t give a fuck. Anyway, I digress. Car rental places yeah? We get in there, my moms charging in front while we amble behind having a leisurely cigarette, and well, we have a problem. Someone, I won’t point fingers and say who, has forgotten to book the car, has forgotten to bring their credit card with so we can pay for the car; and didn’t know that you needed a credit card to rent a car. Bollocks.

To solve this one, we took the hotel shuttle and then a taxi to the show and back. Had a lovely taxi driver too.

Problem 3 – Someone, again I won’t say who, lost their cellphone. Because they refuse to carry around a bag that it can go into instead of a bag that it hangs on by a pathetically sized little clip.

And then some other stuff happened. Like…Emperors Palace didn’t want my money apparently because I have never fought so hard to gamble in all my life. Stand in a queue, then you have to go to this place to get a member card, then back to the first queue, then the member card’s broken so back to the other queue, then their system is down…etc etc

JUST LET ME SPEND MONEY!

And up until this point it’s been blah blah blah. Because now I’m getting to the fun bit.

17h00…we arrive at the Coca Dola Dome in some fuck off area of JHB. (Just a small note at this point, how do any of you live there? I mean, I’ve always disliked JHB but a couple of days there and I now really despise it.)

Cars galore and the Goblin’s mecca. I was so friggen excited I just stood at a railing and stared open mouthed at the floor of shinyness and mechanical genius. In fact, I spent a lot of my time singing “And then I jizzed in my pants”.

To be fair, there was a lack of cars. I mean, it wasn’t the biggest car show you’ll ever find but, this small problem aside, the important one’s were there. Like the Dodge Charger. Sure it was yellow, but this did not take away from it’s brilliance. Screw the Lambo’s, bugger the Porsches, throw the Ferraris off a bridge…just give me the Dodge. Umph!

The Lambo’s were pretty though.

So, a good amount of time was spent wandering through the cars looking like an Asian…my camera just going…clickety click click clickety….until some other stuff happened. It’s not important because it’s keeping me from getting to the best bit.

Top Gear Live.

Holy fucking crap. Hello Mecca.

The show started with all the car sponsors doing some or other thing. Whatever petrol company, I can’t say I was paying attention to which one it was, did a little spinning with an F1 car. Opel had some chick in leather being a…lion tamer to a little car. Chevrolet had some dude rapping while the car spun behind him. All in all, very fun, loud and yes, if I could, I would have jizzed in my pants again.

Theeeeeeen…out came Clarkson, Hammond and that other South African idiot with no personality whom I couldn’t be bothered to mention.

I cried.

Actual tears were shed I was just so happy.

I’m a fucking geek etc etc, tune me all you want, I don’t care, I was blissed out.

So there was a bit of banter happening there, then a little performance by some stunt drivers in Ford Fiesta’s covered in tube lighting. Theeeen…there was Richard in a fat suit on a small motorcycle ramming into a tiny assed little cardboard bus….and then Richard was violated by the wheel of another small motorcycle (this was quite entertaining and I have a video clip of it, but I was having trouble uploading last night so I’ll see if I can eventually upload it). There was a soccer (yes soccer damn you!) game played with cars, which I’ll get to in a minute. A few doughnuts done by a ‘bus’ during an exhibition of what the UK would look like if the Top Gear team became Prime Minister. The cool wall thing. The lap thing. Oh yes. The lap thing. I don’t know if they managed to do better on Sunday, but we managed to save SA some humiliation and took second place on the Power Lap Board. Up until that point the best time we had achieved was only seventh. Ack.

All in all it was a damn good show and I nearly orgasmed a million times.

But the soccer thing. Look, I know it’s all about entertainment and you have to play to the crowd and all, but man, I was really disappointed that blatant cheating occurred to ensure that South Africa beat England in this little 3 on 3 abortion. It’s just plain wrong. And anyway, I’m sure we would have been fine had they just let things run their course…after all…who doesn’t want to see Sasha Martinengo or however you spell his name beaten severely? Seriously, the man is a waste of space…he was crap on radio and he’s crap live.

Fuck this drivel though…

Pictures!

They’re after all this drivel. Check you guys later!