Bob Dylan was fifty years ahead of the curve when he penned Million Dollar Bash back in 1967.

Well, that big dumb blonde
With her wheel in the gorge
And Turtle, that
friend of theirs
With his checks all forged
And his cheeks in a chunk
With his cheese in the cash
They’re all gonna be there
At that million dollar bash
Ooh, baby, ooh-ee
Ooh, baby, ooh-ee
It’s that million dollar bash

For there’ll surely be plenty of big dumb blondes, overoaked whites, MWs, anoraks and luvvies aplenty at WOSA’s million rand party to launch Cape Wine 2012 in September.  For while the dorp st. dames may struggle at marketing, when it comes to partying, they yield no quarter.  Urban legend insists that most of the Wineland Municipality donation to the ill-fated Fundi sommelier training project was blown on a party to launch the initiative.

Sources close to the dorp st. dames report that a cool million has been set aside for the launch party for 1000 foreign freeloaders plus hard-pressed producers who get one “free” ticket for every R15,000 stand at Cape Wine 2012.  A fair from which Piet Public is excluded by arrogant diktat from WOSA management.

Deepthroat SMSes “they went out to tender and got two replies: one utterly hopeless and the other a wedding planner.”  So now the spinners are searching for a green venue to keep their environmental figleaf in place over their cellulite thunder thighs, even though guests are being flown to Cape Town from around the world.  XXXXL carbon footprints all round, I’m afraid!

Deepthroat points out that with many Mother City restaurants in extremis, the freeloaders could be split into small groups to spread industry largesse around, for half the price.  But its hard to stroke egos at multiple venues and saving money has never been a WOSA priority – heck the industry gives $u Birch and her span R35 million to fritter away each year on braii boeks and beer & biltong receptions at foreign trade fairs.  Heaven forbid that any of their party cash had to trickle down to the estates, many boasting brilliant restaurants with far better food than WOSA’s wedding planners will ever come up with.

Bob’s Million Dollar Bash appears on the wonderfully surreal Basement Tapes which have so much in common with an SA wine industry that can allow as bizarre an anachronism as WOSA to flourish.  I’m with Bob on this one:

Well, I looked at my watch
I looked at my wrist
Punched myself in the face
With my fist
I took my potatoes
Down to be mashed
Then I made it over
To that million dollar bash
Ooh, baby, ooh-ee
Ooh, baby, ooh-ee
It’s that million dollar bash