MACCA’S STORY By Dave J Donnelly, 1 RAR
In Townsville in 1991, a few of the boys decided to head into town one Saturday afternoon and have a few ales at some of the local drinking establishments. A couple of hours in me best mate Ian “Crawford” Macdonald stood up and said he was off to buy a watch. I thought, ‘What the fuck, me best mate’s leaving halfway through a bloody good drinking session to buy a watch.’ Anyway, it was a pretty serious drinking session, as they always were, so he was forgotten about pretty quickly. The afternoon went on for a few more hours but Macca never came back from his watch shopping. This was a problem as the prick had the key to our unit down by The Strand. A couple more hours passed by and it was getting dark, so I thought, ‘Fuck it, I’ll try to break in.’ So off I went. The unit was dark and I knocked on the door, hoping he was home. There was no answer. So I had to climb up to the second storey and over the balcony, as we always left the sliding door open. Once I had conquered the balcony, I checked Macca’s room, knocking on the door. There was no answer so I walked in, turned on the light and there was me best mate flat on his back, starkers and unconscious with a smile from ear to ear and a three-speed pulsating vagina on his cock with the pump action in his hand. Took me about five minutes to get back to Langs and let the whole bar know. Farkin funny.
Field experience is something you don’t get until just after you need