Yeah @
10-Ring, reminds me of the bad old days in 1990-1993 in South Africa, I was the lone Pom in a world of fairly hostile NW Transvaal Afrikaners. No choice but to learn the lingo and do my best to adopt their habits, matter of survival... well the one habit I simply could not tolerate was the extreme drinking, Klipdrift and Coke for breakfast, a couple of cases of Castle during the day, some shots for tea and some more brandy until pass out. All the while waving various rifles in the general direction of game while flying around in bakkies (utes).
The lads in my age group were the last of the front line conscripts to fight the Border War in Angola, and a lot of them came back completely fucked in the head.
There's a certain look to the 90s Boer that I'll never forget, the sunburnt, glassy eyed, unfocused, slightly slurred veteran of the 5 day bender, as he raises his rifle and draws a circle in mid-air with the muzzle.... BOOOMMM!
Aaggghh fokit, gemis.
Er, sorry, .308 Win. My favourite? This one of course, from this weekend just gone.
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