Dear Mr and Mrs Reads,
Exciting times afoot!
Surfing got so bored of itself it decided to freak right out just for novelty value. It puked down its own shirt n’ tie… Now isn’t that terrific news?
Boards got so boring that it even got boring sawing your own tail off and then people started riding 10ft rhino chasers again!
The ASP World Tour got so bored of titchy witchy lay days that Teahupoo decided to get too big to hold the event. Too big for the world’s very best… Oh la la!
Post heat interviews got so yawn and snore that Bobby decided to go mental in an obscenity peppered abstract rant about racket sports! (Watch out squash, you’re next, you bastards…)
Owen Wright got so bored of being poor that he earnt $300 000 for 7 heats (4 hours 15 mins surfing = 70 grand/hour) in, wait for it, New York City!
The Atlantic got so bored of August that September started off bananas! La Nord in Hossegor was cranking for days on end and the water was warmer than summer and the wind offshore and it was just terrific!
Meanwhile, everything else kind of continued on in a semi-familiar fashion. Joan Duru shredded many waves violently but quietly, and didn’t tweet (The Man Who p96). That Kai Neville dude released his latest motion picture featuring young men doing the craziest manoeuvres ever, ever (Lost Virginity Postponed p56). Summer was summer and was good and bad in different ways and some people stayed here and others went across the equator (where it was technically winter but still warm) Hot Hot Heat, p76.
Jeremy Flores went from strength to strength in the heavy water department (page 1), won the A.I. Forever Award and scored a perfect 20 in Tahiti and got his name on The Eddie invitee list. Timo was on hand while Jeremy and the rest of the Quik team made the most of Raimana’s inside knowledge and scored big time in Tahiti (Postcards From Paradise p90).
Literally nothing else has happened, at all. That’s it. The tide came in, then went out, the surf picked up then dropped off, and people checked it, and had a little moan about the crowds. Some had a big moan. One or two even cried actual tears.
We hope you enjoy this autumn and the coming winter, and shred it to your full potential, beyond it, if at all possible. Do not saw your tail off unless absolutely necessary and only puke down your tie if you’ve had not enough tube time and too much (any) Butterscotch Angel Delight.
Dear Mr and Mrs Reads,