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Love in the time of corona


Shebeen

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Well, I'd guess that depends..I could think of a couple of CT neighborhoods where it would fit right in! Perhaps it's the same in Ouzo's area..

(Sorry Ouzo)

 

Actually, I seem to remember there was a Warthog with a very bright orange bakkie.. until it got stolen, proving the desirability!

I live in Boksburg, there are only 2 colour bakkies to have, white or orange
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BORRIE'S PLAGUE DIARIES - NO. 1


The Plague-beard I am growing proceeds apace. All you man-bitches de-hairing yourselves at this evil pass will live to regret it when the time comes to choose a new Tribal Chieftain.


I engaged with my property's weeds. I have half-an-acre of gardens, which lose their fucken **** when it rains and the weeds get crazier than a K-Pop concert . I can't smoke or eat the things, so I kill them. Some appear to be rooted deep in the planet's crust and require much swearing.


"Have you been out in the sun too long? Why are you shrieking at the trees, you mad ****-rock?" my beloved wife asked at one stage.


"There are terrifying monsters with many legs and claws and fangs crawling around in here! Each time I uproot a giant weed, some scuttling horror appears from the hole."


"What's the dog doing? Why isn't he eating them?"


"He's cock-ploughing on the fresh-mown grass. It looks really fun."


"Don't even fucken think about it. The poor bitch next door won't even come out of her house anymore when you're in the yard."


Then she forbade me from taking the ride-on mower up what I told her was a great hillclimb behind our back fence unless I promised to die quickly when it rolled on top of me. I could make no such promise.


I spent half-an-hour drinking beer and staring at the four bikes I have to ride. One of which now has a flat tyre. Then I went to the shops to buy food.


It's quiet in Singo. There are a few scared-looking security guards standing around. They are small, soft, and gentle Indian men. They must ride herd on giant tattooed miners who have bought all the Four-Ex and Great Northern beer ever made and, having flogged their molls for not keeping the fucken kids quiet, are now engaged in finding toilet paper.


The only bitches I see now are really old ones and everyone's nice to them. All the other bitches, having been deprived of their nail-salons and hairdressers, are staying home nursing their bruises, washing the HiLuxes and Raptors, and wondering how long they can live without in-fills on their talons. Which is not long, I reckon.


Should be some poorly-manicured bargains when they start the slave auction in town.


Sat down to write the Rocket 3 review, but got distracted at my wife hurling abuse at the Catholic pedos on the TV. So I went and sat with her and wanted to kiss her filthy mouth a lot. When I said that she promised to put a butcher's knife in my eye if I made the attempt.


Went to bed concerned, but tired.




 







 




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