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Update 6 (25/03)
From Westport to a hotel in the proper middle of nowhere - stopped off to see the Pancake Rocks, and briefly in Greymouth to pick
up supplies for the evening's entertainment... we were set the task of creating a fancy dress costume from a yard of tape, some tin foil and two black dustbin liners. Spent $4 in the $2 store (local equivalent of
£Stretcher) on a sword-and-eyepatch set, and a foam parrot, and went as a pirate.
Tunic, pantaloons, bandana and beard made from the bin liners, together with foil buckles for my belt and shoes, and my DVT
socks pulled up to my knees (thanks to Jane, Susie and Maxine!) won me first prize out of 90-odd entrants, although I had to beat off stiff competition from a Gimp with a tangerine in its mouth, two Madonnas
sporting four foils cones of mass destruction that could easily have taken an eye out, and "Captain Snapper" - complete with onogrammed cape and matching alligator thong. However, the "Y'arrrs"!
and loud demands of the serving-wench for flagons of grog carried the day - won a day's river surfing in Queenstown for my pains (and believe me, going to the toilet in a home-made pair of pantaloons held together
with large amounts of electrician's tape constitutes pain!).
The following morning we went to an outdoor centre offering gold panning and jungle paintballing - having never done the latter, I decided to get
tooled up. Our team won 3-0, with your humble correspondent ensuring victory in the first game by the simple expedient of hiding behind a tree, shooting the flag-carrier (who then had to drop his team's flag) and
then popping caps in the asses of 5 opponents in a row who tried to pick the flag up off the floor. Then, when I was satisfied that I had laid waste to most of their team, I snatched the flag up and had it on toes
to the "safety zone" in order to win the game; although I did get a little disorientated after catching my head on a low branch, and as a consequence ran straight past the safety zone, a la Forrest Gump
("and I just kept on running...")
After the team games, we had an every-man-for-himself free-for-all, in which I managed to nail some German bloke right square in the bratwurst. He ducked behind a
tree, howling "Scheise, scheise" - as I was inwardly congratulating myself on hitting such a small target I held my gun in the air, told him that I wouldn't shoot, and asked him if he was OK. He replied
"Ja" and shot me in the shoulder, so I proceeded to give him a fresh coat of paint, just to show the Hun what's what, what?
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