Fake Taxi

Well, here we fucking are. On tour once again. It’s only 11am and Jason has already laid down the rules for the day: 5 skateparks and 5 pokie machines.

Simple enough. Ride bikes, film some shit, slap a few pineapples through the pokies and see where the fuck the day takes us. After a quick lil catch-up with everyone, it’s well and truly known that these Sunny Coast cats are HORNY. BMX horny. Clip horny. Just fucking fired up and ready to get amongst it.

Holy fuck, we just did a power hour with the boys and the clips are already stacked. Everyone’s getting busy, cameras are rolling and Jason Watts is already thinking about gambling his way through the best pokies on the north side.

Jason reckons he’s got $500 for each machine and is confident as fuck that somewhere along the way he’s pulling a grand jackpot. Absolutely zero doubt in the bloke’s mind. Five machines, five pineapples, get rich or get fucked.

Meanwhile, I need a Muscle Chef meal to fire me up because I haven’t eaten yet. I’m on my health vibes and I can’t be out here all shaky on the course trying to film these cunts flying around everywhere.

Fuel the machine. Film the boys. Win the pokies. Fuck yeah. BMX horny times.

Next stop is the home of Dave Dillewaard, Yonny Wakefield and, of course, the mighty Dolphins. REDCLIFFE.

Speaking of Dilsy, it looks like the poor cunt didn’t pay his swoopy-boy tax because he’s currently getting absolutely fucking destroyed by a magpie on Instagram. Welcome home, brother. Anyway, Redcliffe Tavern it is.

A couple of chicken parmas are going down and Jason has $800 cash ready to feed into a pokie. Before we’ve even sat down properly, everyone’s already thinking red diamonds, features and life-changing amounts of money.

We tried calling Dovey to see what the fuck he was doing, but apparently he’d been out clubbing and didn’t pick up. Fair enough. Man’s probably still fighting demons from the night before.

So, we smash a few pineapples through the machines and Jas ends up about $200 down. We got a few features, had a couple of moments where everyone thought THIS COULD BE IT, but unfortunately no life-changing amount of money was attained.

Fuck. $200 straight down the drain.

The dream is dead.

Back in the tour bus.

At least Redcliffe itself got fucking handled. We got movie clips. We got vlog clips. We got clips of clips. So many fucking clips, cuzzzzz.

That’s the beauty of these days. You start out with some half-cooked plan about riding five skateparks and playing five pokies, then suddenly you’ve got a camera full of bullshit, BMX and memories.

And just like that, Saturday was fucking done. I headed back to the big smoke and managed to keep things about 69% wholesome.

The boys, on the other hand, apparently went full banana-bashing mode. This is especially funny because Jason had given everyone the big pep talk the day before about partying. Basically: yeah, we can party, BUT we’ve still gotta wake up the next day and “GET UP AND GET IT.”

Fast-forward to Sunday morning and I get:

“BIGS, I’M BUSTED AS FUCK." GET UP AND GET IT, JAS.

So while the boys were piecing their lives back together, I got up, smashed out 16k steps, had a ginger beer, then an Amaretto Sour with my homie Lou and called it a day.

Well... not really.

Because WE BE FILMING Episode 23 is now out too, because I was back home nerding the fuck out on the computer while everyone else was recovering from whatever the fuck happened the night before.

Productive king shit. Anyway, that’s it.

Just a lil cheeky blog from Saturday. Bikes were ridden. Clips were stacked. Pokies were slapped. Money was lost. Parmas were inhaled. The boys got fucking loose.

Pretty standard really.

MAHD DAWGS.