7 days a week laugh.
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Re: 7 days a week laugh.
While walking through the mall, I saw a new African Bookshop. Curious, I went inside.
The clerk eyed me suspiciously, then asked what I was looking for. So I asked for a copy of the South African Immigration Policy Book regarding foreigners.
The clerk said, “Fuck off, get out, and stay out.”
I said, “Yes, that's the one. Do you have it?”
The clerk eyed me suspiciously, then asked what I was looking for. So I asked for a copy of the South African Immigration Policy Book regarding foreigners.
The clerk said, “Fuck off, get out, and stay out.”
I said, “Yes, that's the one. Do you have it?”
(O O {]{]{]||[}[}[} O O)
- Gavin RS
- Posts: 1116
- Joined: Wed 22 Aug 2007, 16:37
- Location: Randpark Ridge Randburg South Africa
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Re: 7 days a week laugh.
A large plane crashed on a farm way out west in rural Northern Cape. The local police inspector mobilized assistance and they eventually arrived at the farm.
By that time, the aircraft was totally destroyed, with only a burned out fuselage left smouldering in a tree line bordering the farm.
The inspector and his men entered the smoking scene, but could not find the remains of anyone.
Then they spotted a farmer ploughing a field not far away, as if nothing had happened.
They hurried over to the man's tractor.
"Sir," the inspector yelled, out of breath. "Did you see this terrible plane crash happen?"
"Yep, sure did." The farmer mumbled as he cut the tractor's engine.
"Do you realize that it was the Presidents 737?"
"Yep."
"Were there any survivors?"
"Nope. They all got killed straight out," the farmer answered. "Buried them all myself. Took me most of the morning."
"Zuma is dead?" The inspector asked.
"Well." the farmer grumbled, restarting his tractor.
"He kept saying he wasn't. But you know what a lying bastard he is.
By that time, the aircraft was totally destroyed, with only a burned out fuselage left smouldering in a tree line bordering the farm.
The inspector and his men entered the smoking scene, but could not find the remains of anyone.
Then they spotted a farmer ploughing a field not far away, as if nothing had happened.
They hurried over to the man's tractor.
"Sir," the inspector yelled, out of breath. "Did you see this terrible plane crash happen?"
"Yep, sure did." The farmer mumbled as he cut the tractor's engine.
"Do you realize that it was the Presidents 737?"
"Yep."
"Were there any survivors?"
"Nope. They all got killed straight out," the farmer answered. "Buried them all myself. Took me most of the morning."
"Zuma is dead?" The inspector asked.
"Well." the farmer grumbled, restarting his tractor.
"He kept saying he wasn't. But you know what a lying bastard he is.
1984 Rover Vanden Plas V8 (Historic Race car)
1986 Rover 3500 Vitesse (UK Import Ex London Police Car)
1983 Rover Vanden Plas undergoing conversion to race car.
2009 Ford Territory ST,
2006 Ford Fiesta 1.6 Auto, daily driver
1986 Rover 3500 Vitesse (UK Import Ex London Police Car)
1983 Rover Vanden Plas undergoing conversion to race car.
2009 Ford Territory ST,
2006 Ford Fiesta 1.6 Auto, daily driver
Re: 7 days a week laugh.
"I am a father. So, sometimes i need to do stuff that fathers do. In the old days, it was marbles and tolle and ketties. Things have changed.
So, two weeks ago, the fucking bright sparks over the road here, whispered the words "GOLD REEF CITY" into my laaities ears, and what can you do? You go to GRC.
Ok, so i checked the website... nananana, looks like piss, hier en daar n fokken ride or two, and i wanted to go down the mine. So ek trek my plakkies aan, kam my hare, and off we go.
We got there early. Ek kap manhaftig twee worsbroodjies weg, en n halfliter melk, and followed my son to the first ride... called Runaway Train.
We get on, and i thought these things were for kids and stuff, and off it went. I did not like it. It was going sideways and shit, and i was queasy when i got off.
What bothered me though was the sound coming from behind me somewhere. Dit klink soos n fokken boeing wat land. And then i saw it. Big signwriting... ANAFOKKENCONDA.
I had to keep face, i wear the pants in this family. Ek maak my arms bak, en ek loop fier en regop teen die dekplank op. Ek gaan die donner ry, what can go wrong?
There was a queue and the fuck up with that is, you can see what the thing does to people.
When it came in the second time, and a young student dude, met spiere waar ek voue het, got out, and kots oor die reling, toe weet ek, my kak is geboek vir my.
Then it was our turn. Jono chickened out, BUT my wife was checking me out. This is where you have to be nonchalant, and manly. I kept my chin up, en my hol toegeknyp.
You get into this thing, and you hang. The safety bar didn’t want to go over my hoenderborsie, so i pulled a Ville Valo, and made myself thin, and hooked a clip too close.... i think.
KLANG KLANG KLANG KLANG.... en kom ons fok nie rond nie.... skielik is ek so bang dat ek n bliksemse nieraanval kry..... dan draai die etterse ding en dan......P@$S HY NA BENEDE....MET DIE SPOED VAN DIE HEILIGE FOKKEN WIT ELAND.
I shit you not, forget any car, bike, plane or whatever the fuck you measure your manliness by.... it accelerated like nothing i have ever felt. But if this wasn’t enough, gaan donner die ding onderstebo met jou. I feel the worsrolletjie. No wait, i feel the texture of the worsrolletjie, every fucking fibre of the worsrolletjie.
Kerels, we came out that first loop met die spoed van fokken wit lig. I wanted it to stop. I havent prayed in 22 years....i did then. We levelled out,and then it hit the second loop.
Shorter radius than the first. Ons fok daardeur,en ek verloor my plakkie. Onderstebo, and then around 2 flat corners wa ek 10 jaar ouer word, and then.... the fucking thing corkscrewed.
Klits daai fokken broodjie en die melk laat dit lyk soos daai kak wat jy oor bobotie gooi, and another, en fok dit, toe skree ek soos n Namibiese vlakte vlermuis wat se sonar gekak het.
And into the station at 200kmh, and just for shits and giggles, they stop it in 10m flat.
I just sat there. Stunned,and my wife is oooh and aaaahing, en lets-go-againing....sy moet haar jags hou.
It fucked my whole day up. “
So, two weeks ago, the fucking bright sparks over the road here, whispered the words "GOLD REEF CITY" into my laaities ears, and what can you do? You go to GRC.
Ok, so i checked the website... nananana, looks like piss, hier en daar n fokken ride or two, and i wanted to go down the mine. So ek trek my plakkies aan, kam my hare, and off we go.
We got there early. Ek kap manhaftig twee worsbroodjies weg, en n halfliter melk, and followed my son to the first ride... called Runaway Train.
We get on, and i thought these things were for kids and stuff, and off it went. I did not like it. It was going sideways and shit, and i was queasy when i got off.
What bothered me though was the sound coming from behind me somewhere. Dit klink soos n fokken boeing wat land. And then i saw it. Big signwriting... ANAFOKKENCONDA.
I had to keep face, i wear the pants in this family. Ek maak my arms bak, en ek loop fier en regop teen die dekplank op. Ek gaan die donner ry, what can go wrong?
There was a queue and the fuck up with that is, you can see what the thing does to people.
When it came in the second time, and a young student dude, met spiere waar ek voue het, got out, and kots oor die reling, toe weet ek, my kak is geboek vir my.
Then it was our turn. Jono chickened out, BUT my wife was checking me out. This is where you have to be nonchalant, and manly. I kept my chin up, en my hol toegeknyp.
You get into this thing, and you hang. The safety bar didn’t want to go over my hoenderborsie, so i pulled a Ville Valo, and made myself thin, and hooked a clip too close.... i think.
KLANG KLANG KLANG KLANG.... en kom ons fok nie rond nie.... skielik is ek so bang dat ek n bliksemse nieraanval kry..... dan draai die etterse ding en dan......P@$S HY NA BENEDE....MET DIE SPOED VAN DIE HEILIGE FOKKEN WIT ELAND.
I shit you not, forget any car, bike, plane or whatever the fuck you measure your manliness by.... it accelerated like nothing i have ever felt. But if this wasn’t enough, gaan donner die ding onderstebo met jou. I feel the worsrolletjie. No wait, i feel the texture of the worsrolletjie, every fucking fibre of the worsrolletjie.
Kerels, we came out that first loop met die spoed van fokken wit lig. I wanted it to stop. I havent prayed in 22 years....i did then. We levelled out,and then it hit the second loop.
Shorter radius than the first. Ons fok daardeur,en ek verloor my plakkie. Onderstebo, and then around 2 flat corners wa ek 10 jaar ouer word, and then.... the fucking thing corkscrewed.
Klits daai fokken broodjie en die melk laat dit lyk soos daai kak wat jy oor bobotie gooi, and another, en fok dit, toe skree ek soos n Namibiese vlakte vlermuis wat se sonar gekak het.
And into the station at 200kmh, and just for shits and giggles, they stop it in 10m flat.
I just sat there. Stunned,and my wife is oooh and aaaahing, en lets-go-againing....sy moet haar jags hou.
It fucked my whole day up. “
(O O {]{]{]||[}[}[} O O)
Re: 7 days a week laugh.
Ters.
When it comes to the wife its easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission!
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Re: 7 days a week laugh.
And you did not even do the Mine shaft, that almost had me loose my dignity the first time I was on it!!!!
Greetings
André
There is no Replacement for Displacement!!!
André
There is no Replacement for Displacement!!!
Re: 7 days a week laugh.
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