Malcom Bonzer is a ‘true blue Aussie’ and guest ‘fake news’ reporter this issue on a very alternative type of windsurfing contest. Crass, crude and definitely not P.C., read on as Malcom tells us more with his tongue firmly bolted to his cheek.

Words  Malcom Bonzer, Finn Mullen & John Carter // Photos John Carter

G’day all you whinging Poms, Malcom Bonzer here, Aussie bloke of the year here 2007 to 2012 and three times world bare chested fighting and windsurfing champion. In my spare time from cracking knuckles and nailing 50 knots before breakfast I like to organise windsurfing competitions. Now these aren’t your normal events where blokes and shelias wear lycra and ponse about with marks out of ten like blooming strictly come dancing, what’s that all about? No, these are proper true blue wave sailing events where if you lose you have to buy a round and if you win you have to buy two. Those are the rules and the only rules worth talking about; any complaints come see the end of my boots or the front of my fist. So now we’ve got all the friendly chat out of the way, make sure your stubbies are at the ready and your barbies are full of dead animals as this ‘arvo we have the highlights of a couple of Bonzer Cup special test matches from Western Australia featuring some blokes going up and down waves like a dunny seat on party night and moves as big as a centipede’s sock drawer.

THE CORRO CUP
First feature today me old pork chops is our Home ‘n’ Away special, where Jaeger ‘Eye of the tiger’ Stone took on Philip ‘Frankenfurter’ ‘Köster for the prestigious ‘Corro Cup’. Yep sports fans, good ol’ Coronation Beach was the venue for this humdinger. ‘Strewth’ though, it was a bloody scorcher and no wind down at Corros when we got there, the boys had faces like dropped pies. It took a while for the wind to fill in but eventually a stonking ‘south-easter’ showed its face and once the boys hit the water all hell let loose and we had a ripper of a match! It was windy enough to blow a dog off a lead. Umpire for the ‘arvo’ was Johnny ‘Cartons’ Carter; he was feeling slightly crook after too many tinnies the night before. He looked like he was about to park a tiger on the rug and spew all over me with a technicolour yawn. He had one foot in the grave and another on a banana skin but fair dues, he sounded the siren bang on 3pm for an on time kick off. Before you could say ‘She’ll be right’, the ‘Köster Kid’ was off like a bride’s nightie and hit an outside reef ramp for a screamer of an eagle wing / one handed tabletop. Boom! Jaeger hit back with an almighty arched back loop. These two rippers were jumping higher than a kangaroo on a space hopper.

Yes you Pommy sandwich eaters, it was a corker of a battle and oath it looked like thirsty work out on the water. We had to take a break at 4.30pm while ‘Cartons’ Carter had an emergency trip to the dunny to siphon the python but the boys were back at it right until sundown. All eyes were on Carter for the verdict but he’s lower than a snake’s belly in a wheel rut and left us in the lurch to go walkabout to catch the bottle shop before closing for a splash of the old amber nectar and put a bet on at the bookies, he’d bet on two flies crawling up a wall that bloke! Back at Stone’s pad in Gerro, local shaper and Jaeger’s dad, Mark Stone, loaded up the barbie with chook and snaggers. I was so hungry I could have ate the hoof of a dead donkey. My stomach reckoned my throat was cut and my belly button was stuck to my backbone. The boys waited for Carter to get his act together and announce the result. He was looking as sharp as a bowling ball, that lazy pom thinks manual labour is a Spanish bullfighter. He couldn’t pick the skin off a rice-pudding, so we checked his score card and I tell ya, he must be as blind as a welder’s dog as he couldn’t see the pride of Australia, Jaeger Stone had won and called it a draw and announced a sudden death replay at Margaret River on the following weekend!

THE MARGARET RIVER ASHES   
Struth, that first match was as tight as a kangaroo’s backside in a sandstorm, not much to split between the two soldiers and it was all to play for at Margaret River. We shot down there in the utes, flat out like a lizard drinking as the decider was all set for 3pm at main break on Saturday arvo. ‘Cartons’ Carter knew the WA afternoon glare could be too bright for him to spot all the moves from the Marg’s mezzanine decking. On top of that weak as chips excuse, Carter reckoned he’d been bitten by mozzies last time he sat up there. I knew the real deal, the local yokels had warned him off for not paying his beer tabs; I’m not surprised, Carter’s so tight I reckon he’s got mousetraps in his pockets! ‘I am going to need a chopper’ he declared, crikey he’s not backward in coming forward either I tell ya. Rather than have Carter go ‘tropo’ and madder than a bag of spiders, we gave in to him and his diva demands.

Come mid ‘arvo’ with both sailors warmed up and ‘Cartons’ Carter up overhead in the chopper, the siren sounded once again for the final shoot out! With the pitch in good shape, groomed by a fresh south-easter and a lined up two metre swell, conditions were declared ‘going off’ and it was time for this deciding bash to get underway. The Köster Kid was taking no chances and added another Johnny Foreigner to the mix, Danny  ‘Dunny brush’ Bruch to try and take out our local hero Jaeger Stone. Needless to say that was as popular as a rattlesnake in a lucky dip. Up in the sky Carter was feeling rough as guts after another night on the turps. He’d a mouth like the bottom of a cockatoo’s cage and was gasping for some more neck oil come beer o’ clock. Down below, the boys were smacking the waves nonstop with more hits than Shirley Bassey. But the big question was, who’d won the sacred Margaret River ashes? Did ‘Cartons’ Carter manage to call it or did he get splinters in his daks from sitting on the fence again for the comp. In desperation to swing the decision the crazy Kösternator was sailing like a frog in a sock and had thrown down a bonkers stalled double while Jaegermeister had unleashed some of the finest hell turns and proper grouse gouges to woo the crowds.

Both sailors had risked everything and were luckier than a worm coming back from a fishing trip not to break anything or themselves. It was too close to call, would Carter call a penalty shoot-out or would he go for extra time?
The Aussie crowd gathered round the podium, with the atmosphere so tense you could cut through it like a hot knife through butter. Sly old Carter wanted me to call it but why keep a dog and bark yourself? I told him unless he wanted a knuckle sandwich for his tea to stop being as wet as water and get on with it. “Well it’s six to Köster, and half a dozen to Stone” Carter exclaimed! “So no dramas, I am calling it an out and out draw and we will have to schedule a rematch for next season as I am out of here on the next plane. I have an unpaid $300 dollar tab at the tav and I have it on good authority the owner has loaded his shotgun and is on his way down! G’day you bloody whinging Aussies, I am headed home to ‘Blighty’! See ya’ next year!” Stone the crows Carter, I don’t know if you’re the most sausage short of a barbeque bloke I’ve ever met and dumber than a bag of hammers or you just think you’re so clever you can talk yourself out of wet cement. Don’t come the raw prawn with me, not paying your tab is a crime round these parts, you’re so low you could parachute out the belly of a snake. You’re as useful as sand in the desert, there’s no way we’re having you back here next year!

“ That first match was as tight as a kangaroo’s backside in a sandstorm, it was all to play for at Margaret River. ”

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