Gareth Cliff, Sir, you are a liar!

You said to me this morning, Gareth, through my car speakers that everything was ‘okay’.  It’s not, Gareth it really isn’t.

On Saturday we celebrated Dazzy’s birthday, it was his 20th and all the boys were together and on a mission.  Collectively, we worked out the next day that over R900 was spent on Shooter Shots and down downs.  Dazz eventually was placed in the car just before 11pm and we carried on to the wee hours.

My mom came outside to scream at us, Gareth, in the middle of the night.  Like we were teenagers!  “You are behaving like hooligans, for fuck sakes!  We have neighbors to contend with, it is 3am!” she said to us as we ducked behind the car so as to hide from her.  We didn’t take into account our heads being actually visible if we looked up and over the car to see where she was.  Such is life, in a drunken state.

Baboo has a flesh wound on his calf muscle, Gareth, because Jarry chucked a Baboon Spider Cracker* into the passenger seat whilst we were all still in the car.  My ears are still ringing and my chest still heavy from the gun powder. 

The neighbor’s wall is a wreck, too, Gareth.  From when I dared the boys to play wall splat.  How it works, Gareth is that you run with your entire might splat bang into the wall and try to stick there.  It was very funny when Baboo did it and ended up rolling down the hill starting by an unintentional back flip and ending off with his face being scraped along the tar road.  Also, the bushes.  The bushes, Gareth, will probably never recover from when they tackled them. 

What’s worse is that before all of this inebriation took place, Gareth, my mom decided to feed the 60 odd people that attended Dazzy’s 20th with her legendary beef pasta.  But she didn’t take into account that the mince would actually be off.  60 odd people, Gareth, all with runny poo’s and vomming their intestines out.  Think about the lavatory systems down on the South Coast for just one minute, okay?

I whipped out my fancy phone at some point in order to video record the dare devils playing Wall Splat and Bush Diving, but discovered that its LCD screen had been smashed.  It’s completely broken, Gareth, my 11th phone this year.  Don’t worry though, I managed to use someone else’s phone to make the mini movie, and although it’s very dark, it’s hysterically funny.

In closing, I have a sore throat from laughing at my brothers and their friends, my phone is no longer, 90% of the South Coast population has been weeing out of their bums and I have a hang over from the gates of Hades.  Everything is not “okay”, Gareth.  Bite Me!

*Or some such fire cracker with an equally ridiculous name. It escapes me now.