The boys night out

So fatboy had a kak week. The foreign aid worker chick gave him the heave-ho, the b1tsh. Dangerous did the necessary, and called a boys night out. No chicks/wifes/panty potential allowed. That's a recipe for disaster, but throw in a trip to Jonny's rotis in the N1 highwayman's car and you know it's all going pear. Not sure quite why we had to have the emergency flasher beacon on the whole way, but it did seem a good idea at the time.

Being biker boys, pretty soon a track stand competition progressed to a stairwell downhill progressed to a street drag race. The ADT patrolman was roped in, but declined when he heard that the purse was a Jameson's funnel.

not a downhill course

For some reason it was decided that a spot of barbering was required, and the N1 highwayman stood up to the plate in performing the world's worst mullet. Ever. What was I thinking? Oh wait, heavy thinking had been replaced by steady drinking somewhere near main road.

The world's worst mullay, in the history of mullays

The Beams were destination A, and they stood up well. I had friends not recognising me, in my new guise as tappitparownoordboi. Pretty soon, the R8 bacardi and coke special loomed, gotta luv mercury.

Some crazy dancing ensued downstairs. What happens during 99 Red balloons in the english speaking world???yes, everyone drops their pants. Not so here, apparently. Everyone followed my lead, but then proceeded to repeat the process during random songs for the rest of the night. Looks like the system broke down somewhere. Of course we had a fine array of beauties lined up until the Parlotones rocked up and beatlemania got in the way. Damn those brazilians.

I could go on, but you had to be there. Maybe these pics of my jeans will explain the way we hit that dancefloor hard. Too hard, ouch!

die groot gat

I kneed a new pair