I cannot tell you the price of beer at The Kimberly Hotel because the whore who sits at the corner of the bar always buys them for me.
When I say whore I’m talking about the music industry guy not the working ladies.
The working ladies give me a wide berth except when I’m playing Tina Turner songs on the CD jukebox.
I have been going to the Kimberly for years now (a sorta pilgrimage to a dead friend who once showed me the pleasure of dancing on the bar in time to Bruce Lee movies there, Here’s to you Paul) and only two things have changed. The web designers who used to slink off here in defeat after client meetings to hide amongst the curious mix of semi literate wisdom sprouting working class types and broke ass metal heads have been replaced with viral marketing experts. And instead of one slot machine in the toilets there are now about ten. The bar is still wood, the walls are adorned with mining and Victorian flotsam and jetsam, the beer is still cold and they still have Midnight Oil on the juke. The stools are high enough to fall off and you are guaranteed to be propositioned in one way or the other.
Unlike bowling clubs around the country the Kimberly has always remained impervious to the sallies from the hipsters to claim it as its own. Also the thick grime on the tables makes it hard to knock your beer over when you realise that the ladies of the night are trying to steal your jukebox R2 coins and have to make a lunge for them. – Roger Young
Cnr Roland and Buitenkant, Cape Town, Western Cape
Phone: 021 461 2160