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About Cape Town

Gets me blood boilin tho, these hipsters now buyin em up, payin stupid cash for somethin I’d scrap for a tenner back in the day. Makes me wanna scream, “You’re a bunch of bellends!” But then - quiet thought in me head - maybe I’m jealous, eh? Cos when I was a lad, me uncle had an Escort, blue one, rusty as fuck, and we’d bomb round the estate, wind in me hair, feelin like kings. “Past is just a story we tell ourselves,” *Her* says, and ain’t that the truth? Nostalgia’s a sneaky bitch.

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I spend loadsa time near the lighthouse down on Marine Drive. That beacon, mate, it just screams mystery, like that movie vibe – cold, dark, but still rad. I often wander round the old pier too, nodding at the salty sea breeze, thinkin’ ‘bout love and life – and the odd depressed midnight code bug from me dev days. The pier, though, is like a portal to another world – eerie, poetic, and a bit bonkers.

The seaside town that is Wales’s answer to Margate, with a container village and TV tours