The King Of The Strip

As you all know, Camps Bay on a Sunday night is THE place to be. Heaps of clubs, a vibe like no other with that fresh ocean smell in the background, and then of course the view. Now most guys will know what I'm talking about here. The view is quite something, which almost gives you that feeling that fat people don't know about this little haven of goodness.


Anyway, this particular night was extra special in the Camps Bay calendar. It was the night of the Red Bull wave event, which ended up having no waves, but was pretty epic anyway, with thousands of people lining the beach to get a taste of the action. Needless to say the vibe on the strip was extra special that night, with most clubs pumping!!!

Found ourselves at Tantra a little later, after some 'parade/beach/grass between the beach/everywhere else baring', and that’s where we met the 'King of the Strip'.

Meet the European legend. An elderly gent at the age of 70 something, dressed in white cow boy boots, blue leather pants, an open collared shirt, and a rambo like head gear, with a Belgium like accent. Making a proud entrance in the early hours of the morning, The King had arrived. Drink in hand, this champ jumped on the closest table and started jamming old school styles. Moves most people there had never even seen before where send across the room, cameras flying out left right and centre. But NO. This chap refused photos, instead he wanted everyone to pay for them. CLASSIC!!! After a good couple of laughs, many more dance moves, and some awkward stares, The King made his move on his pray, the most challenging of species, the Camps Bay bombshell.

One after another he would crack off a 'who knows what' pick-up line, and start conversing. His efforts were admired by every guy there, with even the women looking on in amazement, this guy had talent!! Anyone could tell he had been the pimp of all pimps in his day, and here he was, still banging it hard at 3am, when the rest of his generation where in deep dreams about their last game of Bridge with the oldies.

Chatting to almost every single person in the place, our group got their fair share of 'quality time' with The King. With a distinctive European accent, he spoke loud and proud, mostly about the more sexual natures of being.

Being seen by mates all over the strip, Trinity in Town, and I'm sure many other clubs around the area, I name this fella, The King of the Strip.