In case you are unaware, I have taken the year off to travel the universe and spread the good word of the Cobras. To expose the world to the glory that is the purple vibe, and demonstrate what good old fashioned running rugby combined with a few sneaky lagers is all about.
As The Weatherman already documented, I began my journey in icy Austria where among shredding up the alpine off pieste on my snowboard, I managed to drink a few Jagermeisters. Jeez but the Austrian’s aren’t afraid of a Jagey or two, they even sell them at the check out tills in the supermarkets. So instead of purchasing a harmless Tempo Bar (a boarder’s best friend) before buying your goodies at Woolies, you’re going home with an extensive assortment of miniature spirits and aperitifs. I guess it works out well as Austria is the birth place of Red Bull, and that jolling juice flows like water over there. Needless to say Jaeger Bombs became part of my daily routine.
I managed to lie my way into a job as a chef at a 4 star hotel, after convincing the manager I had worked at Greens (Constantia) as head chef for a year after graduating from Sillwood Cullinary College. Things were going surprisingly swimmingly until my first day on the job when the manager fired me for allegedly shagging the receptionist. Which is fair enough except for the fact that A; she wasn’t hot and B I didn’t even shag her. Eventually things got cleared up, the oke felt like an absolute doos/poes and rehired me. All this on top of the fact that I had to share my staff accommodation with a raging gaylord heroine addict Indonesian man, an alcoholic old German communist midget, and three Slovakian girls; one of which was a full on Nazi and one who was actually quite fetching. I can’t make this shit up.
I did get some good riding in and met some radical people. The Scandinavian’s are a class act, especially the Danish. Denmark definitely gets the Cobras stamp of approval. I if you get some free time off around Christmas I would highly recommend doing a ski season. It’s hectic. One of best times of my life.
After my adventure in Alps I was to reunite with fellow Cobra, Phillip ‘The Drill Sergeant’ Rogers and huge Cobras supporter and general vibing oke; James ‘The Goose’ Goss, in Mallorca Spain. In Austria I became good mates with a legend Ozzie by the name of Shay Kurz aka Shakers, who was an epic sliding partner and even more solid wingman. I convinced him to join us over in Espana. Our POA was to get some work on the yachts in Palma, become super loaded and then live the dream. Maybe even buy our own boat; cruise the med with a few solid 9/10 Spanish bitches while they snarf off our erect penises and then meet up with Vinnie Chase for his Cannes premiere. Alas, this was not to be. Work was slow going on account of the recession, and it seemed that they only wanted to hire chicks. Not ideal.
So I decided to move to Magalluf, affectionately known as “Shaggaluf” by the locals and all that come here. This place is, dare I say, a bit too hectic. The only way I can describe it, is as the Spring Break for the low class chav British youngsters, on tik. Every oke has got a lekka peroxided Mohawk, a nipple ring and numerous kak Chinese symbol/tribal/British flag tattoos covering their bodies. However, the ladies are a slightly different story. While they are still quite scummy, they are in actual fact, hot. Hot in that porn star kind of way. You know; fake tan, big racks, blonde hair. And everyone knows that low class chicks are quite partial to bit of a pomp (that’s why they get preggers when they’re like 15… so sometimes if you’re lucky you can bag yourself a milf who’s till a teenager).
I’ve been working as part of a stage crew. Setting up gigs for The Kooks and Bombay Bicycle Club (ask Gimals about them), last weekend we had Calvin Harris and Tinnie Tempah, and in 2 weeks Dizze rascal is coming over. It’s quite a sweet deal, I get to go backstage and chill with the ous. BUT recently I’ve just landed arguably the greatest job on the island. Basically during the day I chill at this bar on the beach called Mambos, play pool, drink cider and work on my tan and then at night I have to talk to average-to-very-good-looking girls and convince them to come to pool parties. And I get paid for this. It’s quite a lag really. This is place I work for http://www.ibizarocks.com/events/
It’s hot here. Like 34 degrees at 9.30am. The problem is the tap water isn’t drinkable and you’re hammered 5/8’s of the time so you’re permanently dehydrated. Dehydration is a soldier’s worst enemy. Your only option is to order another 1euro pint, this is a fantastical quick fix, however not a long term solution. Pretty soon you’re even more inebriated and dehydrated than before and you find yourself mine sweeping any brightly coloured drink you can, in attempt to get refreshment. It doesn’t help. Next thing you wake up semi-clothed sprwaled on a lounger on the beach, with the sun blazing on your face and some guy shouting at you in Spanish.
All in all the going is good. The food is cheap, the booze is cheaper and I’ve been wiling most of my time away on the beach staring at boobies. I don’t think the Bikini shops here sell bikini tops. Just the bottom half. Like speedos for girls. But more along the lines of a thong. The chicks here don’t cover their cleavage whatsoever. In fact I think covering your nipples on the beach is offensive in Spanish culture. It is glorious. I think I’ve seen every type of boob. Massive ones, perky ones, redonkulously saggy ones, ones with nipples like hubcaps, pierced ones, fake ones, flat ones, etc.. All shapes and sizes. I think I’ve seen more racks in the last month than Hugh Heffner sees in a week. And if you don’t make it to the beach and get your daily dose of “tette”, you can just stroll over to the BCM square where they have a wet t-shirt completion every night. More often than not the dodgy chav chicks will even whip out a bit of box for you.
Everyone keeps asking me what I’m doing here, and why I’m not back home for the South Africa 2010 Fifa World Cup. It’s a good question. And one that I have often asked myself. I must say the vibe back home looked bloody awesome, and I feel proud to be South African. It makes you realize what an amazing and beautiful country we live in, and what diverse, unique and special people we are. So last night I was here ,in Spain, for the final, and to say that this place went off its tits is a lie. It went off its poes (bru)!! The streets where teeming with drunken Spaniards all wearing red, setting off fireworks playing drums and getting verrrrry hectic. I found myself getting very much into the vibe with the locals in the town’s fountain. They definitely aren’t shy of a bit of a celebratory fiesta. And they’ll be going at it all week!
I’ve been following the Cobras progress very closely and I’m fucking impressed with you boys. Every Thursday after I hear about another victory and another chilled fines meeting I absolutely reel. I reel harder than Bakkies reeled after that Jimmy Cowan head butt. The Cobras are one of the things I’ve missed most during my international tour. Being away from it, makes you fully realize what a sick vibe it is. And fuck it is a sick vibe. I’m just wondering who’s won that coveted number 11 jersey? Jeez I hope they have bit of pace and maybe even a step like Qu-Qu-Quade Cooper.
The upcoming golf tour looks set to be one of the highlights of the year, and again I’m gouging out my eyeballs with salad spoons that I can’t be there. I mean a weekend at Wazza’s place in Arnies with the ous, I could think of very few things more spectacular.
Shit there is definitely some stuff I’ve left out, but I’m buggered and I’ve got work tomorrow. I just wanted to wish you lads, the best of luck for the second half the season. Look I know you don’t need luck, The Cobras patented style of visually orgasmic rugby is unstoppable. 2010 is the year of the Cobras. I have a strong feeling we’re going to be lifting the trophy.
Have a sick tour lads. And ask Wazza and The Weatherman for a game of ‘Suicide Darts’ once you get to Arniston.
From me here in Spain…
Oh, so brave…
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