The scene is set – a dark night, cold wind blowing,
campfire flickering, stars twinkling in the dark sky. Three
Hang-glider pilots are sitting by the campfire, one from
Scotland, one from Seth Efrika and one from New Zulland,
each embroiled in the bravado for which they are famous.The
night of tales begins…
Kiven the Kiwi says, ‘I must be
the meanest, toughest, heng glider there es. Why, jist the
other day I linded in a field and scared a crocodeale, who
came out of the swamp and ate sux min who were standen close
by. I grebbed the crocodeale and wristled him to du ground
and killed em with my beer hends’
Hansie from Seth Efrika
who typically can’t stand to be bettered said, ‘Well
you guys, I lended orfter a 200 mile flight in my heng
glider on a tiny trail, end a Namibian snike slid out from
under a rock end made a move on me. I grebbed de borsted
with me bare hinds end beet it’s head off ind then
sucked the poison from its body down in one gulp. End
I’m still here today.
‘Ian, the Scotsman remained silent,
slowly stoking the fire with his penis.
.
.
