So yes,
as indicated by Mr Squirk, we intended on making an obligitory trip to the church (read: feral drinking establishment for Kiwis/Aussies/SAffers).
...and this we did. Sundays only, of course.
Began drinking whilst in the queue (approx 11:30am) and crawled out again after the lock-in is finished at 4pm-ish.
Having not had anything to eat beforehand, I was a little worried by the fact that I couldn't buy anything to eat in there. For the record, however, it was not me that was falling over and requiring carrying by the time the whole thing was over.
I believe that honour goes distinctly to Rob. Congratulations, my friend. Hahaha.
Hmm; I have a catalogue of memories (some of which are hazier than others):
-The concierge in the toilet having a collection of bizarre rhymes that he pretty much belted out constantly. For example: "No Armani, no Poonani!", or; "If you're happy and you know it: wash your hands", etc.
-The stripper making guys eat marshmellows out of various uuh, 'nooks and crannies'...
-Cozzie being dissapointed after the 'male stripping' that was promised being left in the hands of a bunch of dudes from the audience. Seriously guys, dont just whip all your kit off and walk around on stage with your wobbly bits out. However, I understand that the availability of
Woodstock bourborn may have made up for this.
-A fairly spirited rendition of '
slice of heaven'
Other than that, mostly just
Strongbow-related jumping around and stuff.
Hehe. I wonder how Rob is feeling right now...