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About Cape Town

Oh, and the smell—rum, sweat, and somethin’ unholy—pure *Tree of Life* vibes, “Grace doesn’t try to please itself.” Grace my arse, she’s pleasin’ herself to my wallet! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d wager she’s bedded half the fleet and still kicks like a mule. Personal quirk—I’m mutterin’ to meself, “Ricky, you daft twat, why’d ya bother?” Cos it’s a laugh, innit! Whores—they’re the real sailors, ridin’ waves of idiots like me. Sarcasm? Mate, she’s a walkin’ punchline— “Oh, bless ya, captain, you’re me first today!” Yeah, and I’m the bloody Pope!

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I get a bit mad sometimes too. Traffic on Bridge Street can be insane. Cars honking, voices raised, like, “Chill out, it's a small town!” And sometimes the sun hides behind giant clouds and I’m like, “Seriously?!” But then I come home, laugh it off, then yell, “It’s bad bitch o’clock, baby!”

English TV Chef Fanny Cradock’s Former U.K. Home Lists for $6.6 Million