Other SA towns “much shittier places to live” agree Joburg, Capetown inhabitants

Remarkable social progress has been made today, after Capetonians and Joburgers of all walks of life set aside their differences and agreed that, while both their respective cities were indeed crap places to live, Port Elizabeth (as well as thousands of other towns across South Africa) is a much more shit place to live in comparison.

The warring tribes, which have long and bitterly argued whose city is a better place to live, came together in hours-long peace talks yesterday, eventually emerging united in the belief that that “at least we don’t live in that windy craphole”.

“The history of this battle has been long and vicious,” said Cape Town Mayor Weeva Mountin, who attended the talks. “We have a dark, ugly history of pointless online flamewars and tongue-in-cheek blog posts trying to convince others - but mostly ourselves - that every city but ours is a far, far crappier place to live.”

Pictured: Joburg artist's depiction of Cape Town

“Today we’ve accepted the hard facts of the matter,” he said. "We’ve both realised that the other side is kinda right, and have accepted that our cities are in many ways shit places to live. However, we’ve also agreed that, while we might live in godless pits, at least every other place in South Africa is a much, much worse place to live, like, say, Potgeitersburg, or - Jesus - Mahikeng. God, can you imagine?”

And the cities’ citizens agree.

“We’ve been here a thousand times,” said Capetonian of two-decades, Arvie Gannipster. “Joburg is shit because it has no beaches, it has no small hipster bars that serve Thai-Eskimo fusion food, it has no art scene, and worst of all, it has no huge beautiful mountain.”

“Yes,” agreed Johannesburg resident Victor Mofcrime, “just like Capetown is a shithole because it has no lucrative financial scene, no high flashy lifestyle of clubs and women, and no stock exchange.”

“But we’ve finally come to an agreement: at least neither of us live in port Elizabeth. Or, Jesus, literally any town in fucking Kwa-zulu Natal.”

Pictured: Capetonian artist's depiction of Johannesburg

Scientists have welcomed the findings as “utterly factual and not at all biased.”

“You might think that this is just a case of Urban Cognitive Dissonance, that they’re just obliged to not hate these cities just because they live there and this brings about a warped sense of belonging,” said senior researcher at the Centre for Comparative Research, Eliza Tombself, “but in fact it’s a 100% legitimate, evidence-based claim to make. Quite simply, it's good, hard science.”

But despite the controversy, Port Elizabeth residents remain unconvinced.

“Oh come on. They're just totally jealous of our giant flag and unrivaled ore-loading facilities, not to mention our status as primary motor vehicle producer of SA and largest supplier of vulcanised rubber tyres," said Port Elizabeth Mayor Portia Harboursen.

"Yes, we may have a foul-smelling industrial stretch, incessant godawful wind and basically all the bad things of both those cities [of Cape Town and Johannesburg] in general,” she said, “but at least we don’t have e-tolls, or an economy based solely on coffee-shop takings and pretending to be an artist.”

“Besides,” he added, “I think we all know that, actually, East London is the real shithole.”

Muse and Abuse would like to state that at least we don’t live in Zimbabwe. And if you do, well, at least you don’t live in Burundi.

Local bouncer douche to get GP licence plate tattoo

Citing fears that people can’t immediately tell he’s an gigantic arsehole, local area bouncer and gym squat rack hogger Blake “Bee-rad” Bradson is reportedly set to get a tattoo of his Gauteng GP car registration plates.

Bradson told reporters that this latest commissioned work, which is identical to the plates on his orange Subaru WRX with chrome 26-inch mags, will be inked onto his lower right bicep, just below the spiky tribal waves design, the armband of flames and barbed wire, the red heart with an arrow through it, and the map of Africa.

Bradson says he hopes the tattoo will allow passers-by a clear glimpse into his deeper personality.

“I might work as a bouncer at a too-expensive club who lets in only blonde rich girls with skirts shorter than my list of tertiary qualifications, but right now I’m just not sure that people can see how of a giant prick I really am,” he said. “I’m hoping that they’ll be able to glance at me across the street, see my new licence plate tat and say ‘god, I'm certain that that guy is an incomparably massive tool’ without my having to actually walk up to them and do something massively arseholeish.”

“Besides,” he added, “this new piece should go lovely with my steroid addiction and deep-seated rage issues stemming from a difficult childhood without a loving or supportive father figure.”

However, medical experts say the addition is not without its risks and side-effects.

“When we consider the kind of empty, soulless human being Blake is, then we realise that this choice of tattoo is totally fitting,” said leading tattoologist and medical expert Dr Richard Haversham. “Getting a tattoo of a Gauteng car registration is much like wearing an Ed Hardy or TapOut T-shirt, or getting spiraling tribal wave designs inked down your calves: having them doesn’t automatically make you an arsehole, but most arseholes do have them.”

Haversham, who has studied behavioural psychology in inked subjects for over a decade, says that such a tattoo could provoke severe psychological side-effects, such as cutting random people off in the line at the supermarket, always being on his phone, or even yelling at people at the streets and calling them all flippen’ stupid blind idiots who must learn how to flippen’ drive.

“Whereas a Bluejay on his ankle would merely make him an artsy prick, or some quotation in Sanskrit or Japanese ciphers down his back would just make him a pretentious hipster douche who places far too much value in his parent-funded two-week ‘soul-searching’ trip to Thailand, this tattoo could have truly heavy ramifications,” said Haversham.

“Honestly, in as little as two weeks we could see things like severe insecurity, festering rage, and him using the flashlight function on his phone to blind people who walk too slowly in front of him.”

Girl “really starting to abuse” guy’s friendship

A local area man is reportedly at the end of his tether today, after he told reporters that Jessica Heiders, 23, who still hasn’t slept with him despite his kind actions and thoughtful attitude towards her for a number of years now, is starting to abuse his “sincere and honest friendship.”

Eric Jackson says he first met the part-time student and full-time heartless ice queen at a school social between their high schools three years ago. According to Jackon, he was immediately smitten.

“She was as beautiful as an overused comparative metaphor that describes how beautiful something is,” he said. The romantic and spontaneous meet-cute between them, when he tagged along with his mates to meet a bunch of chicks, was definitely true love, he recalls. “She spoke to me and she had a Y chromosome - she was perfect! Plus we like ALL the same things. She likes the Beatles and I like the Beatles. She likes food – holy crap, I looooove food. She loves Taylor Swift, oh my god, I absolutely love pretending that I love Taylor Swift!”

It was only after they ended up at the same university, however, that he knew it was really meant to be.

“I mean, of all the tertiary education institutes to apply for to read for a degree in Journalism and Media Studies, she picks Rhodes University. What are the CHANCES?!?!?!”

Jackson’s hopes, however, were soon dashed, after Heiders started showing her exploitative, manipulative colours.

“Every morning at Res Breakfast for the past three years now I’ve sat with her and chatted about her dreams and her ambitions in life, her deepest fears and anxieties, her struggles with her alcoholic dad and her depressed mom, and also about where she sees herself in ten years not just as a career woman, but as a fully-fledged being in this mixed-up and confusing world,” he said, “and still she hasn’t slept with me. I just don’t get it.”

He added that to date not a single even vaguely sexual action had occurred between them – this even despite him writing about her in his diary on a daily basis, and composing long, multi-stanza poems dedicated to her.

“She can’t see honest and sincere I am, that I would never want to hurt her and how I’m always there for her,” he said to reporters. “Instead she just hooks up with all these other douchebags. Like, guys who play musical instruments or have so-called ‘confidence’ and who waste all their time playing sports and doing gym stuff. I mean, what do they have that I don’t? You know, except self-confidence, anything vaguely classifiable as ‘sex appeal’ or knowledge of how poetry should be written beyond a cliché and monotonous A-A-B-B-C-C flat rhyme scheme?”

Jackson has now told reporters that he is no longer sure whether or not being a true friend with no ulterior motives is a good strategy for having a right proper shag with her.

“I just don’t know anymore,” he said. “Maybe I should start being an arsehole? Like, only pretend to care about her as a person while all time the only thing I want to do is have a cheap shag? That’s what all those other moron douche kings do to her.”

However, many of his friends have strongly defended him, saying that it is not his fault, but that the blame rests entirely on her leading-him-on shoulders.

“All these years of being her shoulder to cry on, the guy who will never betray her, and still she hasn’t even touched his dick. Clearly, the bitch doesn’t understand the concept of romantic feelings towards other people,” they said in a joint statement. “Everyone knows that when you like a person that much then that person is obliged to return those feelings. Simple.”

Starting tomorrow, Fuller is now set to embark on long, snide rants about giving up on love in the face of her heartless and hurtful apathy, before moving on to spouting embittered and ennui-fuelled diatribes of cognitive dissonance later this week, mostly about how he “didn’t even really like her that much anyway.”

“No idea what I’m doing” admits man in gym

Fans of repeatedly picking up metal sticks with heavy things on either side while listening to terrible Katy Perry mixes were frankly unsurprised this morning, after 32-year-old Virgin Active subscriber and Woolworths Salesman Skip Slegsdai admitted that he had “no clue, really – none whatsoever” as to what he was doing during every hour and half or so that he went to his local gym.

“Mostly I just copy whatever I see other people doing on various machines,” he admitted to reporters whilst doing a horrifically incorrect version of deadlift that probably carries an elevated risk of extreme back injury. “And even then I feel guilty due to my utter ignorance and incompetency. By the way, does this look right? Should I be bending my knees?”

Other members of the gym have reacted to the man’s statement with smug and self-righteous happiness. “He’s the guy that sits on the rowing machine and does that bunny hop thing with his hands while yanking the handle up, down, and to each side as if he’s in a canoe, right?” asked Ben Schpresse, better known as the huge guy who always leaves his towel on the machine you want to use while he's doing another exercise in which he always seems to have 'just two more sets left, bro'. “Yeah, I remember. It’s clear as day. He probably knows as much about pumping iron as I do about the adverse effects of anabolic steroid abuse.”

However, Schpresse said that he couldn’t just go up and correct him.

“I already wear a ladies’ vest that is eight sizes too small and shout vague noises at myself whenever I do an exercise, and I also act incredible patronising and homoerotic around my gym buddies,” he said. “If I do this, I’ll look like too much of a douche.”

Scientists have since confirmed this claim, saying that Schpresse is already ranking dangerously high on the Douchometer.

“He drives a CitiGolf and has a sound system that bellows distorted bass everytime he plays his terrible Dubstep at too-high volume,” said Expert Douchologist Hugh Ahrkak. “If he does anything more to boost his score, say for example by commenting on someone else’s technique at the gym or wearing a leather bracelet while listening to Nickleback, he might go Full Douchebag. Never go Full Douchebag.”

Wiping his hands on the tracksuit pants he wears to hide how embarrassingly undeveloped his leg muscles are because he has no idea what a leg press should feel like, Slegsdai explained that he was in a huge conundrum.

“I can’t just go up to those tracksuited ripped guys who run the gym and stand behind the counter all day making sure we have membership cards,” he lamented, “because I’ll be, like, really embarrassed.”

However, gym specialists say that help is at hand.

“All he needs to do it break a leg or suffer a major heart attack that prevents him from being eligible for membership to any gym. This should totally avoid the problem altogether. And face it, he isn’t missing much: why would you want to cram yourself in a room full of sweaty, stinky people who are eighteen times fitter or more ripped than you’ll ever be, regardless of what you do in there? Just cut your losses, boet.”