Here’s a handy tip for being safe in South Africa’s chaotic surf lineups: at all times, wear one of those massive orange traffic cones on your head. You’ll be visible at all times for sure, whether up and surfing a wave or just sitting placidly like some kind of mentally challenged nincompoop right in everyone’s way. For especially cautious-minded folk, wear them on your head while driving your car to and from lineups as well. You’re welcome. Bench Diddler, Mount Sock
Just convinced a spam caller I live in the sewer system, dress as a clown and give away balloons. Yet, she still wanted to know if I wanted a lame cell contact. Seriously, there aren’t enough decent days of surf in a year to compensate for this level of harm to my mental wellbeing. Wisepenny the Surfing Clown, Concrete Pipe
To all inhabitants of the former Grahamstown. You really lucked out on a missed opportunity when changing the town’s name. Instead of renaming it “Makanda”, it really shoulda be renamed “Wakanda”. The money generated from clueless tourists alone would be enough to get those kiff electric shaver jet planes from the Black Panther movie. What has this to do with surfing you may ask? Well, absolutely nothing to be honest. Miss Guided, Nowhere-near-the-coast
Damn you sea urchins – what the hell did I ever do to you?! Just leave me alone already. Piesang Pap, Noughtfontein
Folks – here’s why socialism just doesn’t work. I used to have many spare surf wax combs – and I used to dish them out like confetti to my less fortunate, surf wax comb-less friends. “Hero of the people” I hear you say. “Generous to a fault” I hear you say. “A crusader for justice and wax comb equality” I hear you say. Sure. Until the day I lost my last wax comb. So, when I finally really needed my own wax comb again, I realised I had given all of mine away. Still, I was then forced to buy myself a new wax comb anyway, so um ja – like, yay capitalism or something I guess. Bum Wrench, Cape Gland
