Frikkie waar die donner is my car?

So I had a fantastic weekend, for many reasons. Well there was one obvious one.
A fraction of my weekend, however, was spent on planet What the Fu*k. I say a fraction because that’s particular planet was pretty surreal and my mouth would have had me in a world of sh$t had I actually said the words…What the Fu&k?

On this particular planet, there aren’t too many places where one can go out and have a few drinks. In fact as far as I could determine, and believe me I tried, there is only one such place.
All the people who live on this planet are obese, and they wear the same uniform (Jean pant and a Blue Bull rugby jersey, yes the women too). These people also drink as though the planet was just about to spin off its axis – not too dissimilar to their dance routine actually.
Case in point: We arrived at the modest venue, to find an elderly man walking aimlessly around the car park muttering all kinds of profanities under his breath.

I was pretty sure I knew what the matter was - He was having a “Dude where’s my car moment!” Despite that I thought I would do the neighbourly thing and enquire after his well-being.
“What is the matter?” I offered. “You will never believe this,” he said stammering, “I have lost my car. In all my years this has never happened to me before and I am rather embarrassed,” he said in a very convincing fashion.
“No need to apologise,” I said, shacking my head sympathetically.

This man was clearly in no state to drive considering he could not even find his car in the first place. I therefore offered to take him home, adding that he should rather think about looking for his car in the morning with a porridge head, rather than the Klippies head he clearly had at that moment.
The elderly man thanked me for my concern and offerings, but politely refused (He actually had impeccable manners for a man in his state, even complimenting my lady friend.)
To cut this particular story short, we helped the man find his single cab Toyota bakkie and went to the entrance of what was now beginning to look like a rather ropey looking establishment.
Before we could enter however, we were made to pay an entrance fee of R10, which also entitled us to a free shot of Apple Sours. Brilliant, I thought, this place got off to a rough start, but things were beginning to look up.

That thought quickly imploded as we turned the corner and saw the venue in all its glory. Couples, who could barely lock their arms together, were entwined and moving to an Enrique Iglesias song resembling a tea-cup fairground ride simulator.
We managed to dodge our way through to the bar and ordered our drinks and free shooters, even though every bone in my body was screaming: “Make a run for your spaceship, you are not going to survive this planet.”

We then moved to the outside area and found a table to take-in a few minutes of every-eve life on Planet what the Fu%k?
It wasn’t long before my eyes happened upon a very curious incident. I watched in horror as a man dressed in jeans and a khaki shirt flung himself into the swimming pool that was to the side of where we were sitting.
He then got out of the pool and starting cursing as he made his way towards us. This time it was my lady friend who did the neighbourly thing, as the soaked gentleman approached us.
“What is the matter,” she said in a very concerned voice.”
“Oh nothing,” he said explaining only that he was going to kill his ‘buddies’ for throwing him into the pool.
Er ok, I thought feeling rather sorry for this poor guy, who clearly had no friends and was perhaps looking for a way to strike up a conversation ha ha.
But my pity soon turned to confusion when he began to dig out his wallet; car keys and mobile phone from his jean pant pockets.It was at that stage that I asked my lady friend in a frantic voice whether we had remembered to turn off the stove at home, grabbing her arm and making a dash for it at the same time.

Joke of the day:

A man walks out of a bar, stumbling back and forth with a key in his hand. A cop on the beat sees him, and approaches, “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yesssh! Sssshomebody ssshtole my car!” the man replies.
The cop asks, “Where was your car the last time you saw it?”
“It wasssh at the end of thisssh key!” the man replies, logically, if a bit too literally.
About this time the cop looks down to see that the man’s member is being exhibited for all the world to see. He asks the man, “Sir, are you aware that you are exposing yourself?”
The man looks down woefully and without missing a beat moans, “Ohhh God... they got my girlfriend too!!!”