Can Someone Help Me?

Someone was raving to me about Locnville a few weeks back, and I didn’t have a clue what they were on about. At first I thought it was some trendy new Cape Town nightclub I should be knowing about, and so just went along with the conversation. (“Oh, you’re digging Locnville’s vibe? Yeah, me too, me too. Locnville’s going to be BIG this year, mark my words.”) Eventually I blew my cover when I declared that I would have sex with Locnville if I could, but I couldn’t because it was physically impossible. It was then carefully pointed out that:

1. This is in fact, physically possible.
2. That my insistence on wearing salmon-coloured shirts and poloneck tops now all made sense.

All jokes aside though, I have subsequently been seeing and hearing a lot of the twin brother musical duo called Locnville, and to be honest, I’m not quite sure what their vibe is about.

Their music can be pretty accurately described as “Meh”, combining electronica with deep voiced singing / rapping. I think the fact that The Girlfriend declared them to be “Yum” has also made me resent them slightly. I don’t think I have ever been declared “Yum” by The Girlfriend, which saddens me.

I think the novel thing about them is that they sound like a bunch of burley black guys. If you didn’t see them, you would never guess that they are actually skinny white boys. Compare their music video called… wait, let me check quickly… “Sun in my pocket”.

Then have a look at the following, which is from a British dude called Tiny Tempah. This is my favourite song in the whole wide world right now, and it kind of sounds like something that Locnville could sound like, if they were cooler or tried harder. And were less lame.

Boom.

Hey?

Which one did you prefer?

The intro to the last one gives me a bit of a semi, I’m not going to lie.

So yeah Locnville, you are doing well right now, and The Girlfriend thinks you are both hot, but I think you can do better. You haven’t won me over yet.

Oakes signing off.

Priceless

So today (Friday), amid the usual crazy and weird emails I get on a daily basis, I also received this rather stern one from someone claiming to be the Public Relations rep for Marine Taxis.

Who are Marine Taxis?

Well, they are a taxi service based in Cape Town, and Ursula Brown, their PR guru in question, took particular offense to a blog post I wrote.

More than 2 years ago.

You can read it here.

What followed was some back and forth emails, which became more and more bizarre. Please read the correspondence below:

a form has been submitted on September 17, 2010, via: http://www.shaunoakes.com/contact/

Contact Shaun Oakes
Your Name:	Ursula Brown
Email:	****@marinetaxis.co.za
Website:	www.marinetaxis.co.za
Message:	Mr Oakes.. Note yr request about what not to do when corresponding with yrself. But I must say that this is a serious case of the pot calling the kettle black as u seem to have done this yourself with yr unsubstantiated uncommented “story” on your site which even our “hijacked” logo. Please remove this story asap…… pronto……..

---

Shaun Oakes wrote:
From: Shaun Oakes
Sent: 17 September 2010 12:44 PM
To: ****@marinetaxis.co.za
Subject: Re: A comment from Ursula Brown

Hi Ursula,

I don’t understand your email. Which story are you referring to?

This one, from 2008? http://www.shaunoakes.com/marine-taxis.htm

Where I advertised your services?

Why would I take this down?

Regards,
Shaun Oakes

---

Marine Taxis Wrote:

Mr Shaun Oakes
e: ****@shaunoakes.com
cc: Ms Alexis Searle and Ms Annique Dears – Advertising department Heart Radio

Mr Oakes…your reply to my email request refers. Am attaching SCREEN Shots of the page in question……

Firstly, if, you were indeed, “Advertising your services”, I request a signed off approval from ourselves. And then, regardless of whether or not you are holding a signed proof, we request that you remove “story/advert/whatever you may call it” with immediate effect. My brief is to “clean-up” and “remove” any and all advertising contained whereever it presently occurs.

Secondly, incorrect details and misinformation contained in page title are mistakenly proffering the impression that MARINE TAXIS CAPE TOWN is called MARINE HEART TAXIS……. Who authorised a company name change – I find this incredulous as Marine Taxis has had the same company name since the early 1950′s and has not changed yet….

cc’ing both Ms Alexis Searle and Ms Annique Dears (Advertising department Heart Radio) – to keep them in the loop.

We request instant action and removal of this unauthorised mis-advertising of our product.

Ursula Brown – Public Relations, Marketing, Advertising
Marine Taxis Cape Town – 5-Star Mother City Taxi Service

---

Shaun Oakes wrote:
From: Shaun Oakes
Sent: 17 September 2010 02:29 PM
To: Marine Taxis
Cc: ‘Alexis Hendricks’; ‘Aniqah Deers’
Subject: Re: A comment from Ursula Brown

Ursula,

I don’t think you quite understand how blogs and the internet works, so let me educate you:

A blog is typically a web-based journal, allowing people to share their thoughts. So if I choose to use a brand or service, it’s well within my rights to write about it and then publish it online, provided it does not contain anything libelous or slanderous. (looking at the post in question, I think it’s obvious that there is nothing libelous or slanderous here)

Demanding that I get ‘signed-off approval’ before mentioning your brand is ridiculous. Are you familiar with Facebook?

Or Twitter?

I can go onto Twitter right now, and publish how heavy handed you are being, and in a matter of minutes hundreds of people in Cape Town will be posting tweets about Marine Taxis. Are you then going to contact each one of them and demand that they get signed off approval from you first?

Secondly, this was written more than 2 years ago, not 2 days ago, and I do recall radio advertising back then referring to “Marine Heart Taxis”. In the post itself, I make use of the correct name.

I really don’t appreciate your aggressive tone over what should have been quite a simple request. If you had just contacted me and politely asked me to change the title, as it doesn’t reflect your official name, I would have gladly made the change.

As it stands, your bizarre handling of this (supposedly from someone in PR?) makes me very hesitant to assist you in any way, and quite frankly makes me think twice about ever using or referring your company ever again.

In actual fact, I am more likely to talk about how draconian Marine Taxis are, after this experience.

So really, an excellent PR job on your part.

Best Regards,
Shaun Oakes

---

Marine Taxis wrote:

Mr Oakes…I dont think that you understand what is meant by Where I advertised your services? (a quote from your reply to my initial request)….
It means that you stated that you were advertising our product = we sign an order, you send a proof, we send a signed proof back to yourselves and then and you place said ordered “advertising”.

And as far as your “let me educate you” skills are concerned… well, they suck…You are talking to a qualified ex-teacher who owned and ran an Internet Cafe in Sea Point for five years, has a Southern African web portal (GPR 5), been in marketing, advertising and PR since 1972, am accredited media world-wide, attending 19th Indaba in a row, with two ex husbands and three sons all in IT…. so please, I have gazillions of qualified tutors in my family and/or via years of contacts who are a mere phone call away.

Regarding thinly veiled pseudo threat, please, be my guest, twitter away or go on to Facebook or whereever else you wish, have fun and do your worst…We too have access to these (and other) social media platforms…so, off you go then….and type to your heart’s content. Maybe the rest of TWITTERDOM would be interested to learn the real reason behind your vindictave story…….. or maybe not……..
Also, if you had any sort of actual contact details on your website, a mere telephone call could have cleared up this issue far more effeciently.

Finally, you had no authority to place our logo on your website with your defamatory article riddled with inaccuracies and insults : “flossie”; “frail looking old guy”; “know a long term sexual partner”; “as well as weapons training”; “eventually managed to arrive outside The HQ, as he got lost for a while”…… can hardly be considered flattering or complimentary.

Oops… you are already TWITTERING I note …. without the option to reply to your previous email.

Draconian hey?? – I dont think so.. I am merely demanding that you remember the rules of engagement, act accordingly and report responsibly.

In reply to Mr/Ms Danneville….you are an expert PR why??? – You seems to be either unemployed or overpaid, as you have so much time to voice your hilarious unwanted opinion.

@mike_met there is probably a cease and desist on it’s way to you as we speak. 7 minutes ago via web in reply to mike_met

@Danneville I know, it’s incredible. And this coming from someone in PR? What is she thinking? 19 minutes ago via web in reply to Danneville

@darylglass I mentioned Marine Taxis in a post from 2008, and get an angry email from PR lady saying I need sign-off from her first. 21 minutes ago via web in reply to darylglass

I’m almost obliged to want to bad mouth their brand now. #PublicRelationsFail 23 minutes ago via web

Incredible… now I get an email from a “PR” lady claiming I need written permission before mentioning Marine Taxis online. 38 minutes ago via web

Marine Taxis just emailed me telling me to remove an innocuous blog post. Written in 2008. Er… computer says “No”. about 2 hours ago via web

Ursula Brown – Public Relations, Marketing, Advertising

---

Shaun Oakes wrote:
From: Shaun Oakes
Sent: 17 September 2010 05:05PM
To: Marine Taxis
Cc: ‘Alexis Hendricks’; ‘Aniqah Deers’
Subject: Re: A comment from Ursula Brown

Ursula, you are digging a massive hole for yourself here.

In today’s connected world of Social Media, is this any way to engage with a consumer?

For your sake I hope you’re the owner or a director of Marine Taxis, I just can’t see how they would be happy with the potential PR gaffe you are causing here right now.

---

Okay….

So did you get all of that in?

Am I alone here in thinking that this is more than a little bat shit crazy?

Where do I begin?

Firstly, angrily demanding that I remove a blog post because I mentioned a particular brand is ridiculous. As I’ve mentioned in the email correspondence, that is the way of Social Media. Fit in or f**k off. It gives the power to consumers to vent / praise as they see fit. The onus is on brands to make sure that they deliver the best product or service that they possibly can and, if they don’t, make damn sure that they engage with consumers in a respectful manner.

I’ve read through my earlier blog post and I still maintain that I have said nothing slanderous or libelous. Granted, what I write should generally be taken with a pinch of salt (disclaimer – The Gupster and I did not REALLY oil up and partake in Greco Wrestling. At least not on that particular day)

The facts are though, that on this particular night (again, more than two years ago)

• The taxi driver was late, as he couldnt find my address.
• He did drive like a snail.
• When it came time to pay, he battled with the card swiping mechanism.

For Marine Taxis to demand that I remove the post because they didn’t like what I say (again – more than 2 years ago) is truly laughable.

Almost as funny as the fact that they demand that any online mention of them needs to be signed off first.

As someone mentioned on Twitter, this is so bad it could quite easily be some sort of viral.

Is that your plan, Marine Taxis? Was this just an attempt to get people to mention you online?

No such thing as bad press etc?

I don’t know, I’m still just a little shocked by the whole thing.

What do you think?

Am I being the cock here?

Or are Marine Taxis being completely out of their f**king minds?

Oakes signing off.

And An Upset Tummy

So the other day I had a dodgy aubergine and so, whilst walking around the Woolworths in Canal Walk, realised that I badly needed to drop off some kids at the nearest restroom. Now, I absolutely hate using public toilets, any toilet in fact, except my own. Even when I’m at The Office, I will rather make a quick 10 minute trip home to enjoy the comfort of my own throne, together with a day old Cape Times, then use the work facilities.

Canal Walk is twenty minutes away from home though, and The Girlfriend was not keen on leaving just yet, so I knew I would have to bite the bullet and put my delicate buttocks on a porcelain surface touched by dozens of bums already that day.

I quickly trotted to the nearest toilets at that little section where they sell all those African trinkets and overpriced cotton t-shirts. Careful not to make eye contact with anyone at the nearby stores outside, I nipped into one the toilets and eyed out my surroundings.

I tend to be pretty loud at the best of times, and I was already started to turtle-neck a little bit. I knew that this would NOT be one of those silent poos, where it feels as if you have just squeezed some toothpaste out of a tube.

No, this would be a loud concertina, but I was banking on the fact that at this time of the day (it was 8:15pm) the toilets would be empty.

Thankfully, it seemed deserted, and I quickly dashed to the furtherest cubicle. I did a quick dab on the seat with some paper, laid another layer of paper down as a buffer between the seat and my ass, and sat down, ready for engagement. I was just about to pull the trigger when, of course, I heard the unmistakeable sound of someone pulling his pants down and sitting in the cubicle next to me. Now, there were four cubicles – and by rights he should have moved to the first one – but, in his haste, I don’t think he was aware of my presence. I heard him beginning an introductory fart, one which suggested that there was more to follow. Fearing an awkward situation potentially ensueing, I coughed politely, loud enough for him to know I was there, and causing him to immediately halt his fart in mid-air.

We both sat in silence for what felt like several minutes, seeing who would blink first.

…

No one made a sound.

It was clear that both he and I were kindred spirits, not daring to unleash hell in front of company. (Even when I am at home, I give a coutesy flush just as I press away, to help drown out the loud voilin-like sound I make.)

I had heard people in similar situations refer to this as a “Mexican stand off”, I’m still now sure why it’s called that but it seemed pretty apt. I wasn’t sure how long I could hold out for though, and my eyes began tearing from the mental strain of the physical restraint.

Just then, I heard someone else peeing in one of the urinals, and I silently began praying. I prayed that he was one of the 23% of South African men who washed their hands after peeing. As fate would have it, he was, and as I heard him switch on the taps, I mentally prepared myself for the next move. He put his hands under the automatic dryer, the shrill hairdryer-like sounds filled the public toilet, and I was away. Like clockwork I could hear the guy in the other cubicle fire away as well. We had about eight seconds of cover fire to drown out our sounds, and we had to make the most of it.

The urinator finished drying off his hands, and I was done. I quickly finished up, flushed away, lathered up my hands with soap and rinsed off. Mercifully, I also used the automatic dryer, giving my adversary another opportunity to launch a noon gun, which he no doubt gratefully took.

I walked out the restroom, and would likely never hear him again.

Oakes signing off.

Of Course You Do

So I’ve been quietly sulking these past few weeks after not being nominated for the SA Blog Awards (although I think I’m just about over it now – I’m at the acceptance stage of the grief process, and I’ve started wearing pants again)

So yes, I know I have been neglecting you, like a husband who ignores his pretty wife because he is depressed and is not interested in having sex with her, eventually forcing her to seek the fresh young erection of the 19 year old BA student who lives next door with his parents.

I obviously don’t want that, so to make up for my neglectful ways, I thought I would blatantly bribe you with some free stuff?

Would you like that?

Okay, Smirnoff sent me a gift pack on Friday filled with loads of goodies (six packs, bottles of vodka, caps, shirts etc) Pretty decent gear. The Girlfriend reckons it’s worth about R2000, she’s pretty good at establishing the value of things (I’m worth about R59 apparently)

It’s all got to do with a SECRET project that they are about launch (so secret I put it in caps) Think the recent Smirnoff Experience vibe, but bigger.

So here’s the thing, I’m not boozing right now, so you can have it. All you have to do is drop a comment below on what you think this SECRET (I did it again) event is going to be. Oh, if you are reading this via email or Faebook, you need to click here first to comment. The most outrageous idea will win it, and I’ll have it delivered to you.

Oh obviously you have to be over 18 to qualify (I’ll be checking your IDs), so to all my 12 year old readers, sorry, maybe next time.

Boom.

So are we friends again?

Oakes signinf off.

He’s Not The Only One

So… imagine my surprise this morning when I realised that I didn’t get nominated for the SA Blog Awards. Not that it’s a big deal or anything, awards mean nothing to me, it’s all about the love of the craft yada yada yada.

No, to be honest, I am feeling a little bitter about it all. I guess I just took things for granted, just assuming I’d get in there. I suppose it’s a bit like when you have a decent-looking member of the opposite sex who is completely into you, but you don’t pursue things, as you naturally assume they’re a sure thing, only to get deeply annoyed when you discover they have ended up hooking up with your friend instead.

Something like that?

Anyhoo, I am certainly a little bitter about the whole thing, but not as bitter as this guy. Apparently, I’m not the only one annoyed about not cracking the nod at the Blog Awards.

Did you enjoy that? Yes, I know you did.

Oakes signing off.

And How Not To.

So if you are familiar with the night club scene, you will of course all realise how difficult it is to effectively communicate with someone. It’s simply impossible to have a normal conversation with your friend on the dance floor, as the music is loud enough to loosen the wax in your ears.

So what do you do?

Well usually, you would go up to someone, and scream in their ear. The correct way to do this with a female is of course to approach her from the direction she is coming from (ie: stand and face the direction that she is facing, whilst screaming in her ear). This allows you to communicate with her – by screaming in her ear – as well as giving you the opportunity to look down her blouse. I actually made up a saying for this scenario. I call it “killing two birds with one stone”. Feel free to use it whenever.

Now, with a male, you will face him front on. (don’t ever approach a guy from the rear, 85% of the time it doesn’t end well). When communicating with a male, scream in the ear that you are closest to. So if you are on his left hand side, scream in the left ear, if you are on his right hand side, scream in the right ear. Common sense would dictate that he accomodates you accordingly, by turning to his right if you are in his left ear, and visa versa.

On some occasions however, you will encounter strange males who will do the very opposite, as I did the other day.

Now what in Garth’s name are you doing there? Are you trying to kiss me?

No?

Then what the f**k are you doing, man?

Turn your head the other way when I am screaming in your ear. It’s like when you make out with somebody, you tilt right and they tilt left, you don’t BOTH tilt your heads in the same direction.

Seriously, sort your shit out, and don’t let that happen again.

It made me feel awkward, everytime it looked as if you wanted to brush your lips against mine.

Oakes signing off.

While I Have Your Attention.

As some of you may know, when I’m not modelling underwear, attending A-list events, or gently caressing my inner thighs (all the while thinking about you), I occasionally dabble with something called “SEO”, which means “Search Engine Optimisation”.

If it sounds confusing and technical, it shouldnt be. Basically, it’s all about giving search engines what they want, and ensuring that the right type of people find the right type of website. So as an example, a website I am currently running, offers breast enlargement surgery to aspiring glamour models. It is therefore in my best interest to ensure that as many aspiring glamour models find this particular website, and have their breast enlargment surgery carried out here.

As you can imagine, SEO can therefore be a particularly lucrative industry if you know what you’re doing, and to help you along, Quirk -- a digital agency where I occasionally hang out -- have just announced an online distance learning SEO course they have developed, which will arm you with enough knowledge to go out there and make sinful amounts of money online.

The alternative of course, is to go out there and try and talk a good game without any sound knowledge, as many people do. I remember as a young and naive 18 year old, I would often tell people I was a trained ninja, and would get to kiss loads of girls on the mouth based on this blatant lie, until one day, at the Stones in Claremont, I bumped into a real and authentic trained ninja, who then challenged me to a duel in the nearby alley outside, and promptly handed my ass to me. (If that statement doesn’t make sense, it is because he firstly took it away from me -- yes, my own ass -- and then promptly handed it back to me -- the worse thing a trained ninja can do to you)

Have a look at the little SEO video below, to give you an idea of how you could be found out, and have your ass handed to you. (Figuratively in this case, not literally as in mine)

So anyhoo, if you’re interested in making money online, click here for more info.

Tell them Shaun sent you.

Oakes signing off.

As We Have An “Ironic” Night In Claremont

So this past Saturday I felt like partying in Claremont, but I was too shy and embarrassed to admit to it, as saying that you enjoy partying in Claremont is a bit like saying you enjoy watching Leon Schuster movies and WWE wrestling.

Therefore, I decided to play the “Irony Card”. You know about the Irony Card, right? It’s a gold-tinted fairly well used card you play when you want to do something that you would normally feel slightly shy about. “Hey love, you can do that thing to me tonight with the warm, over-ripe banana. You know, it will be ironic!” or “I’m going to wear sunglasses inside a shopping mall, with my collar popped, because I’m being ironic.”

Anyhoo, so that is the official stance on the night. I was being ironic, that’s why I was there. So in addition to all the tomfoolery which occurred, I had a few random thoughts during the night – seven to be exact – which I will now share with you in a bullet point fashion.

1. We’re WAY too old to still be drinking at Springboks – And I’m not talking about having a beer there in the afternoon whilst watching a game. That is still acceptable. No, I’m of course talking about putting on a smart shirt, or body-hugging fitted t-shirt, and going there to dance and shake your money maker whilst hitting on some young tail. The fact that I even referred to the chicks there as “young tail” should give you an idea of how old we felt and appeared to be when we got there. They have opened some sort of whiskey bar at the back, which had some older twenty somethings sipping on hard liquor, but I still felt dirty being there, like an old man watching his neighbour’s 14 year old daughter washing the family car in her Hello Kitty two piece swimsuit.

   It just felt wrong.

   It was also nicely summed up by the drunk student we encountered later on, who gave us the unintentional but still back-handed compliment of “When I grow up, I want to make some big bucks and be just like you guys.”

   Drunk student, you were a bit of a cock, you smelled very faintly of urine, and you had your face a little too close to mine when you talked, but you hit the nail on the head.

2. You can only drink so much soda and limes – Soda and lime is a lovely drink to have when you are not hitting the booze. It kind of looks like a decent manly drink (unlike Cranberry juice, which looks, surprisingly enough, like Cranberry juice), and they give it to you in a manly looking tall glass (unlike Cranberry juice, which was given to me in a Cosmopolitan cocktail glass). Soda and lime can only take you so far though.

   After my third drink, I was pretty sure that Soda and lime was coming out of my pores, which was confirmed when a slightly inebriated gentleman asked whether he could have some of the soda excreting from my arm, as his Bushmills whiskey was a little on the strong side. The point is, I think clubs need to cater for the non-alcohol drinking folk, and maybe stock some non-alcoholic beers? Just a thought, use it, don’t lose it.

3. The music at Tiger Tiger is lame – I wanted to dance my tits off. I really did. They were annoying me all week and I had strongly made up my mind that they would have to go on Saturday night, giving me the opportunity to grow some new ones. But the music was a bit on the poo side.

   There was probably about 25 mins of decent sexy dance music for the entire night. Oh and then a little bit of old school stuff later on (Beegees, Michael Jackson, some Whitney etc) Otherwise it was mostly that David Gueta-style shit that you hear late at night on 5fm, the type of music you can’t really dance to, you kind of just jump around mindlessly, or alternatively, stand still and feel up the chick dancing in front of you.

   I wasn’t planning on feeling up any chicks (I didn’t want to get beaten with my own arm) so I had to settle on the first option, of jumping around mindlessly.

   Which made me look like a giant tit.

   Which I think is irony?

4. I can’t seem to read a signal even if it pulls me by the scrotum – So there I was, chilling at one of the tables at Tiger Tiger, when this blonde chick walks past, armed with a pair of big blue eyes, and an ass you could quite possibly bounce a R5 coin off. (I always wondered about this line when I read it in books, or heard it in movies, but after seeing her ass, it just made sense)

   As she sashayed past us, she turned and stared hard in my direction, causing me to turn around, and just check that I was in fact her target, so as to avoid another embarrassing situation. From then on, she was literally hovering around us for most of the night until, probably exasperated by my complete indifference, she motioned for me to come over to her on the dance floor. I waddled over cautiously, and stammered in her ear – “Hi, so where exactly do I know you from? Did we go to school together?”. She looked at me, the way you might look at a puppy before smacking it upside the head for peeing on your prized slippers, and said, “No… no we have never met. I just thought you were cute.”

   “Oh,” I stammered, completely off-guard by this revelation. “I have a girlfriend and I am really slow so I actually had no idea that this was the case.” She then proceeded to roll her eyes at me. “You have pretty shoes,” I countered, awkwardly. “I like the way they make your toes look like little buttons”. I then slowly moonwalked away from her and started doing the Macarena, which I usually do when I feel flustered and / or disorientated.

   When I finished it, she was gone. She had an exceptional ass though, maybe I should have told her about The Girlfriend after I rubbed my groin region against it, although The Girlfriend would likely have beaten me with my own arm had she found out, so I’m pretty confident that I made the right choice.

   The main point though, was the fact that I had no idea she was actually hitting on me, which concerns me, as Perception is my middle name, thanks in part to the inept nature of the Home Affairs department. But we will leave that story for another day.

How many is this? Four? Okay, let’s leave it at four. I know I said seven, but truth be told, I have ended up writing far more than I expected.

Yes, I wrote this. On paper. And then I scanned it. Onto the computer. I don’t believe in typing things out. It’s not pure enough for me.

I am a writer. Not a typist.

I write.

That is all.

Oakes signing off.