1. The American
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Where good Italians go when they die: Pasta Point
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The post surf hacky sack was always a treat to be around.
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This is a Kiwi outside his natural habitat ie. in New Zealand.
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You may question Eugene Terreblanche's politics, but you can't question his incredible wax jobs.
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No wonder they think the Superbank is so uncrowded.
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Who would have thought that after all those years fraternising with crocodiles, Mick Dundee would ultimately succumb to a night-club bouncer’s right-hook.
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Imagine getting dropped in by all these Brazil nuts at once. Terrible.
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Eddie here grew up in Pennsylvania, where true Hawaiians come from.
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Francois was enjoying his time in G-Land, and was glad he'd brought his full quiver with him
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The Englishman couldn't decide to hit the world class right, or the world class left.
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Not wanting to be Spanish is practically a national past time in Spain... and Portugal!
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By 5pm, this Canarian booger was already due his daily body wax.
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Maybe the Germans' state of the art wetsuits have been holding them back.
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This guy's attempts to blend in with the locals didn't go so well...
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Post surf, the Scandi pack reyhrdrated with some much needed juice.
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The two Israeli lads' trip to Indo was a success.
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Where good Italians go when they die: Pasta Point
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The post surf hacky sack was always a treat to be around.
1. The American
AKA The Seppo. In a word… loud. The Seppo loves for everyone within a three mile radius to know exactly what he’s saying, which is strange given it is usually the most inane, utter bullshit imaginable. Known for stretching the truth, it’s best to knock 20 per cent off everything he says and then believe only half of it. A flashy, fast style will sometimes hide a deep fear once events turn serious, whether it be a drinking game or overhead surf.
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