May, 2020

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How many Privates can say were ever 2IC?

So there we were at Ohikik, Cpl HB, OC and The sleg troep, 2IC and the sleg troep forgot something on the weekly rat run order, suddenly remembered after the run had left Omauni and thinking maybe they’d send out the Reaction force.

WR was not impressed and advised the sleg troep to walk to take 4 chaps and walk to Omauni to fetch said stuff, I am buggered if I can remember why the shit was that important, that it couldn’t wait a week.



The sleg troep being the lazy fuck that he was, figured that there were Donkeys and he was going to ride, A second class ride being better than a first-class walk they say. He never considered why the Bushmen thought it was a crap idea to ride 18k’s on a Burro.

Long story short, A donkey is not designed for comfort, The spine is perfectly positioned to split the cheeks of your arse and rub anything in contact with it raw. I recall having severe pain only a few times in my life, When the love of my life used me as a support for her feet during the birth of my daughter. The bruises ran from hip to armpit.

The other is being the proud owner of a Hiatus hernia. That shit can bend you over and break all your desire to keep living. That is like having a hot poker shoved in the centre of your belly and getting no relief for hours,

And of course the Donkey. Before you ask, yes I have broken bones, wrist, elbow and I detached my fingers with a table saw. None of those compared with the blisters in my arse crack.

I walked, nay limped back to Ohikik with the goodies on the back of the beast. I don’t think I have forgiven WR for that yet. I’d rather have carried the ammo case on the chandelier.

The worst advice ever

What was the worst advice you ever got and took
I sit here pondering my belly button and think back over my life and consider the paths I took that would have made a difference to the outcome of my life.
Hindsight gives you 20/20 vision but I know if I had gone the other way with all of this advice my life would be totally different.
Chimpanzee contemplating the world
1. You will never make as much as a bike mechanic as a car mechanic. Back in 1985 I was an appy Bike mechanic and my journey man said this to me, I went ahead and became an appy car mechanic.
2. No son of mine will be a grease monkey. My dad said this to me and I became a cabinet maker instead.
3. Once you have been here 5 years you will never go back. I was in the UK and don’t remember who said this but Fuck them, the horse they rode in on and their mother.
4. If I could live wherever I wanted to, I’d want a sea view. I squandered an opportunity by buying a house with a seaview, rather than a farm in the Lowveld.
These are just 4 of the forks I chose that would have made a huge difference had I gone the other way. I often think of those decisions and wonder whether they would have changed my life.
Each of those decisions, when looking at people that were there and went the opposite way, that are far better off than I am.
It’s that first one that was the worst, I have never been happier at work than I was servicing Suzuki B120’s. If I could go back, that’s the one I would change more than any of the others.

I bought my first bike for R 50.00

I am procrastinating, I have work to do and not even coffee is getting me on track. I don’t have a specific home town, Edenvale and Nelspruit come the closest. We moved around a lot. This story is not about Hillbrow but today Edenvale is part of Joburg ish.
Edenvale is just east of the big smoke on the East Rand. We were lowbrow compared to the ous from the North of Joburg but close enough to Bedfordview so we weren’t as kommin as the ous from the far east, you know Brakpan, Springs and Nigel.
Primrose and Gerdview though were close enough to Malvern for them to be worse than us ous from the Valley. But having said that right on the outskirts of Edenvale were Klopper park, much los was to be found there at the Pool on a Sunday afternoon. We’d go slumming and get laid on occassion.
Now to be frank, I am the product of a Mother that worked her arse off to feed three kids and a dead beat Dad. Luxuries like visiting the barber and anything but Apricot or Mixed fruit jam were not for the likes of us.
Yamaha MR50
I turned 16 in 1981 and got a part time job as a teller at Checkas in Van Riebeeck Avenue. I was still cycling to school but my mate Piet knew a bloke that was selling a Yamaha MR50.
I had no money and was earning about R 12.00 a week at Checkers so we went and had a look. I fell in love and with some negotiation I bought that piece of shit for R 50.00.
Freedom was mine, I could go further than 5kms from home and didn’t even have to wear a mask. I got given a piss pot helmet and a quick lesson on how to operate the bike.
Just so you understand why I called my first love a piece of shit, It technically had a headlight but that didn’t work, It had one indicator on the front, it was decorative and held the head light in place. I taped a torch on the other side so that at least I could be seen coming. Tail light fokkol, back indicators fokkol, but she started first kick.
The first time I filled the tank it cost me just under R 2.00. I could go to places like Modderfontein, get to school not all sweaty from the ride. Mom found out about the bike and was not happy, tried to convince me to park it till I had a licence. I hid it at Piet’s house instead.
If you never rode a 50, you will not know that you had to lie down flat on the tank to get it go faster, (it didn’t actually work but try and convince a 16-year old that lying down oin the bike didn’t and besides you looked really cool going 82k’s an hour.)
So one morning on my way to school, unroadworthy bike, unlicenced rider and I spot plod ahead of me, Plod started slowing down so I ducked left, then right then left again, flat on the tank to get away. I don’t know if Plod turned his bike around but I got to Dirks place and walked the few blocks to school.
That MR and I ran away from Plod three times, once when he was chasing me, but I’ll tell that story another time.

Almost Heaven, Joburg CBD

“Fuck off, who do you think I am, Your Mother? You serviced it you fucking test it” The Goose.
1985 I had just come back from the grens, In my case it wasn’t so much a case of Boetie gaan border toe as, The sleg troep was sent to the border to stop him fucking up the war effort back here in the States.
I had klaared out in December and found a job at Joes Suzuki as an Appie bike mechanic down in Main street just under the flyover. At the time I rode a 250 Honda so had to park it round the back.
At lunch time I had an errand to run, I have no idea what it was, but I know I had to come down President street in front of the courts. The road narrows down dramatically at that point so traffic could be a bit fucked up.
Suzuki B120
On this particular day, I was heading East going back to graft after lunch. I came down to the court and suddenly there were cages everywhere I looked, two cars came out of parking bays opposite one another, two cars swerved to miss said cars and I squeezed through the middle of the mess.
When I say I heard harps and saw Angels, I am not kidding. I left brake marks in my undergarments and didn’t have time to do anything but shit myself and go for the gap. I took paint off both cars with my crash bars. I came to a halt at the robot and was rattling in my boots.
I was a skinny oke so I am pretty sure everyone heard my knees knocking on the tank. A pedestrian says to me did you see that? I says are all my parts still here?
I didn’t have a licence so decided that the better plan was to just fuck off, no harm no foul, the paint on the crash bars looked no worse than the scrapes from my altercation with the tar at Gillooleys interchange.
I got back, told my tale and put the plug back in the B120 that I was servicing and asked The Goose to go test it. Well, you know his answer already.
That was the second scariest ride of my life, no not the scraping, riding that fucking delivery bike.

Add some value stupid

Man am I tired of the stupid. The internet is the ideal vehicle for discussing issues, for helping solve the world’s problems and then of course for Memes and pron.
The thing though is that there is a time an a place for everything. If I want to watch pron I’ll go looking for it. I love memes on my timeline.
dumbest meme
A funny meme in the right place is enough to destroy an argument, support an argument or even just prove how stupid you are.
I like words, words add value, If you want to argue with me, hell, be my guest, if you offer a reasoned and well thought out argument I will engage, If you have a stupid argument I may tell you to go play chess with pigeons.
What really is going to piss me off is a meaningless meme dropped in like it means something. I see the same few memes over and over, like they are supposed to add value and all I see is a poster that has nothing important or even intelligent to add.
Even the dumbest of comments is better than a stupid meme.

Coup d’etat

coup d'etat
I have been thinking, this is never a good idea. I have been contemplating my belly button and I have some words of wisdom or is it folly.
The world different place for those that have life to live!
The world is currently under the control of those that don’t have much life to live anymore. South Africa in particular.
I think we no longer have a government that was elected. Cyril is under house arrest and is being trotted out when needed to belay the fears.
The NCCC or what ever they are calling themselves are all Zuma acolytes. Dlamini Zuma just point blank ignores parliament and parliament have no input into the regulations.
The courts have ruled against Zuma and as far as I know she has not even acknowledged the rulings, never mind responded.
The Coup has happened.

Bovril vs Marmite

If you can be wrong about Bovril vs Marmite, you can be wrong about anything. Marmite is a vegan spread FFSBovril

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