I pretended to be a “Cake Expert” at WoolWorths so I could bang an 8/10.

Serious Brahs, here’s the story.

It was my father, DadBrah’s birthday and some of my family members were coming to visit us. I decided to head off to WoolWorths to get some food for the guests.

My father’s side of the family is extremely military orientated. So naturally we had to impress them. If any other cunt visited my house, I’d fucking buy shit from Checkers Hyper.

A long time ago, I remember I went into WoolWorths to buy some biltong. It was fifty fucking rand. No thanks.

I’d rather skin the bird that DogBrah killed, gooi it on the washing line and leave it to dry for a week. I’ll make my own damn biltong. Call me InventorBrah.

Always, brahs, always know when to spend your money. I’m ambitious as fuck. I flip burgers at Steers so well that Gordan Ramsay would bow down to me. I’m chasing that mula.

Anyway, I step into WoolWorths and well I guess I was the only “worthy” one there. Everyone went on insta-mire mode when SWOLE PATROL entered the vicinity.

I go to the cake section and start looking for an appropriate one. Some phaggot pokes his hand near the birthday cake I was eyeing out.

“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?” I ask the phaggot as he trembles in fear.

“S-sorry. I didn’t know,” He tries to respond. I take the phaggot by the ears and point to some three layer BEASTLY chocolate cake.

“You see this cake? That represents me. ‘Mire the swole,” I say. I then point to a lonely shitty cupcake at the end of the table.

“You see this? This is you!” I shout. I then take the cupcake and throw it on the ground to stamp on it. The phaggot gets so scared, he runs away.

Just as he sprints off, an 8/10 beauty starts browsing for cupcakes. This is my lucky day! She picks up one of those fucking red cupcakes the girls go crazy about.

“Oh you wouldn’t want that,” I reply as I put on my aviators.

“I’m sorry? Who are you?” She says while she secretly ‘mires the swole.

“I’m Dr. Swole- I’m an expert in baked goods,” I lie.

“Is that even such a thing? And I like these cupcakes,” She says.

“We are here to assist the public. Why don’t you look at these,” I reply as I point to some phaggot blue cupcakes. I didn’t even know what the fuck I was talking about.

I mean, I am a cake expert… but not the kind of cakes we were looking at right now.

“So, you study to be a… Cake Expert?” She says.

“Of course! I just got my PHD in Cake Expertise. I do love a good cake,” I say with a smile. CakeBrah is probably clueless about the hidden meaning in my words.

“Does the job pay well?” She asks as she looks over at some rolls.

“When you care for a cake well enough and you will reap the rewards,” I say.

“Well that’s nice. It’s good to see someone ambitious,” She replies with a smile.

Of course I was fucking ambitious, you think would have Steers received their good reputation if I hadn’t worked their? Fuck no.

“Anyway, I must go. I have an appointment with the Arch Bishop Desmond Tutu. He needs advice in buying cakes as he wants to cheer up his sick friend… Nelson,” I say as I look at my watch.

“Wow! That’s impressive! You know before you go, take my number. Maybe I’ll need your expertise in the future,” She says with a wink.

So later that night I called her…

and the Doctor Swole inspected a very different cake instead.

I smashed her with the force of 5000 angry South Africans when Eskom decides to load shed.


I went to a funeral and got kicked out while trying to pick up a 9/10 bish.

Serious Brahs, here’s the story.

One stormy morning, I got a call from my best friend, Mongo.

“UKZNBrah, you’re coming to a funeral with me!” Mongo screamed over the phone.

“FUCK. Who died?” I replied out of haste. I really hate moments like this. I don’t know what to say.

“My neighbor, he was old. The funeral is already over! I just have to go to the house and pay my respects,” Mongo husked over the phone.

“Oh and there’ll be free food, I’m on bulk!” He announced proudly. Why the fuck does Mongo even need to bulk. If he picks up 5 more kilograms, he’ll be classified as meteor.

Since I didn’t have anything planned that day, I decided to accompany Mongo. We get to the funeral house and there are people howling and crying. Some aunty wearing a fucking doily dress comes up to me.

“Oh! It’s you! I never see you for so long! I’m so happy you could make it!” She screams as she kisses me on the cheek and brings me in for a hug. What the fuck, brahs. I haven’t seen this woman in my life. DoilyBrah is invading my personal space. 

“The last time I saw you, you were a 2 month old baby! Do you remember me?” DoilyBrah asks. 

How the FUCK am I supposed to remember DoilyBrah if she last saw me as a baby?

Luckily, DoilyBrah gets a phone call and goes outside to answer it. 

I go to the back of the lounge and grab a seat. I look to the side and I see a lovely 9/10 Cardio Bunny sitting by the table with some beta twig. I try to hear the conversation… it seems he was trying to pick her up. 

I scan the beta up and down. He was relatively skinny and wore a denim Life jacket and denim pants… He wore that to a funeral. Always, brahs, always be suave at all times. I was wearing a crisp white formal shirt and some black formal pants. The SWOLE life chose me.

I go up to their table and sit right in between them.

“Uh… I was kinda talking to her,” That beta shit says.

“How ironic… you’re wearing LIFE clothing to a funeral,” I reply as I take off my aviators. I wink at the 9/10 beauty. LifeBrah looks furious though.

“At least I have clothes that fit me,” LifeBrah says with a proud expression on his face. 

“You weigh like 2kgs. Fucking Barbie clothes would fit you,” I reply. 

LifeBrah slams his fist on the table and storms away, leaving me and the beauty behind. I was about to talk to the lass but she interjects.

“Oh my word! Look at that guy! He’s piling his food like he hasn’t eaten before!” The beauty laughs and points behind me.

I turn around and see that cunt Mongo holding a plate filled with so much food, I could hike up it. That fucking phaggot really knows how to pick the right time to show everyone what a fucking warthog he is. 

“Wow… that’s embarrassing,” I say. I really hope that cunt doesn’t come to our table and makes it known that we’re friends. That asshole is so fucking rich yet he comes to a funeral and piles up on the food. 

Before I could say anything more, there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see the pastor and LifeBrah standing behind me.

“This young man says that you’re harassing guests,” The pastor replies. 

If there ever was a time I wanted to squat a beta… it was at this moment. I would have squatted LifeBrah like he was a 500g Rama butter block. However, we were in a funeral. I’m not NoRespectBrah.

“That’s insane! This bet-” I stopped talking. I couldn’t say the word “beta fag” in front of the pastor!

“You see! He can’t deny it,” LifeBrah says. 

The pastor then asks me to leave so I exit the place. I didn’t want to cause commotion at a funeral. Before I could leave, I did toss the 9/10 my business card though.

“That’s what you get for being a shit talker!” LifeBrah says as I walk passed him in order to exit through the veranda.

I text Mongo and tell him to meet me outside. Mongo comes running out with food still hanging from his mouth. I then tell him the story.

“I know that boy! You mean that cunt is the reason why I’m hungry!” Mongo says. 

In a fit of FURY, Mongo goes back inside the house and grabs LifeBrah by the hair as he brings him outside. 

“You better hope that jacket works because by the time I’m done with you, you’ll need more than one life!” Mongo shouts. 

And that was that.

Some say that Mongo uses him as weights when the gyms are closed. Others say that he was enslaved and makes protein shakes 24/7 for Mongo. 

Regardless, that was the last I’ve heard of LifeBrah.

I did end up banging the 9/10 with the force of five thousand sardines hitting the Durban shores though.

Went to the Durban Drags, challenged a beta phaggot to race me so that I could smash his 8/10 girlfriend.

Serious Brahs, here’s the story.

Early one morning, I received a call from my friend, Mongo.

“UKZNBrah, there’s some drag racing happening tonight and ProteinBrah is racing! We must support him,” The 2m tall, 140kg BEAST husked over the phone.

Well, I’ll be damned. Today must be my fucking lucky day! I had just put in a pink dice on the mirror as well as some cream fur seats on THE SWOLE MOBILE (1990 Ford Escort). My car is so fucking alpha, everyone at the drags will ‘mire it.

I go and pick up Mongo and we head off to the Durban Drags. 

Once we get there, I thought we pulled into a fucking Volkswagen Dealership. There was just a sea full of fucking City Golf’s. One guy even put Christmas lights on his rims because the Chrome didn’t blind you enough.

“I FEEL OUT OF PLACE,” Mongo says as I park the Swole Mobile.

“Mongo, you’re 140kgs. You’re always fucking out of place!” I reply.

We hear a noise and look next to us. Some skinny beta is revving his golf while a whole lot of phaggots clap in excitement.


Mongo opens his pants and that beta’s Golf gets so fucking scared… it turns into a Smart car. The skinny phaggot starts crying immediately and drives off crying.

I push Mongo away from the betas and tell him to check on ProteinBrah while I walk around. I look in the distance and see a silver golf parked in the centre with a bunch of people surrounding it. The owner and his 8/10 girl lean on the car casually.

“Well well well, what do we have here,” I say as I take off my glasses. As soon as people realize SWOLE PATROL has entered their zone, they back away and ‘mire me.

“Nice… the shape, the body… I bet she roars when you give her a good ride,” I state out aloud. 

“Yeah, took me a long time to build this baby up. Now fuck off, I have ladies to impress,” The owner says as he touches the car.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about your car,” I reply as I point to his girl. The Cardio Bunny blushes as soon as she lays eyes on me- which is of no surprise. Look at me; I’m a fucking Greek God.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” The owner shouts. 

As soon as owner opened his mouth, all I could see was rows and rows of gold teeth. It was as if he were keeping an extra supply of precious metals for Johannesburg Stock Exchange. He didn’t even have one fucking piece of gold… No. This guy gold capped all his fucking Colgates. For this reason, we’ll call him TeethBrah.

At this point, Mongo shows up and stands in the back with ProteinBrah.

“South Africa is declining on gold and here you are, hosting it in your mouth,” I reply to TeethBrah. 

“You fucking think you’re funny?” TeethBrah said. This subject was obviously very touchy for TeethBrah.

“How does it feel to know that your mouth is more expensive than your car?” I ask. 

“You think you’re the only one that gyms!” TeethBrah exclaims as he flexes his “biceps”. They looked like eggshells! Even fucking nuclear war won’t compare to the guns I have- SWOLE FUCKING PATROL.

“Let’s race. Winner gets the bish,” I say as I put on my aviators. 

“Okay, deal. I have never lost in my life before!” TeethBrah announces. Obviously that’s a fucking lie. Clearly the cunt has lost all of his REAL teeth before.

I then take off my shoes and socks and start doing some push ups.

“What the fuck are you doing? We are not RUNNING! We’re driving!” TeethBrah replies. I get up from the floor and point to Mongo.

“You see that brah? We call him Mongo. Do you know why? Because he owns Mango Airlines,” I lie as Mongo nods his head, playing along. 

“Mongo is so rich, he just needs to make a call and someone will bring in a Ferrari for me to drive,” I announce to the crowd and most of the bishes start ‘mirin Mongo. I am such a good fucking brah.

TeethBrah gets so scared that his teeth knock together. Luckily gold is a strong metal otherwise they’d be fucking broken.

TeethBrah nods his head and starts taking off his shoes. Yes, the race is happening! The 5km runs with DadBrah in the mornings will finally come into use.

Today the SWOLE PATROL has a motherfucking foot race in the Durban Drags. How fucking beastly are we?

“Wait, wait! I c-can’t! I have arthritis in my foot. I don’t have money to have an operation! The race will be unfair,” TeethBrah reasons.

“YOU FUCKING HAVE AMERICAN SWISS IN YOUR MOUTH BUT YOU CAN’T AFFORD A FOOT OPERATION!” I rage. Fuck. I was really fucking looking forward to some cardio. 

TeethBrah hides his head in shame. 

“It’s OBVIOUS UKZNBrah wins by default!” Mongo screams from the back and everybody starts clapping. 

I quickly do flexes and some 3/10 bish runs and tears my shirt off. She starts waving it around and screaming “IT’S ROCKY BALBOA!”. Well that was fucking weird.

I go up to the 8/10 beauty and hand her my SWOLE.INC business card. I tell her to call me the next day when my schedule is empty. Being the future CEO of Steers makes me a very busy man.

Naturally, the following day she calls me in the early hours of the morning.

And yes…

I ended up smashing her with the force of three thousand Zimbabweans illegally crossing the South African borders when their currency became irrelevant.

I left a dating ad in the classifieds and I ended up meeting a bipolar 2/10 bish.

Serious Brahs, here’s the story.

A few weeks back, one of my friends put up a dating advert in the classifieds and ended up banging a lovely 8/10 Cardio Bunny. So I decided that someone as BEASTLY as me will have just as much success.

I mean, what could go wrong? I’d end up with a few numbers, choose the hot ones and then proceed to smash each beauty with the force of two thousand white people at a 7de Laan festival.

So I sent out my advert to be printed in the Daily News. Some days later, I got a few replies but only one bish stood out. She seemed intelligent and a solid 9/10 judging from her Facebook photos.

The beauty, we’ll call her NewsBrah, suggested we watch movies at her place. 

Yeah… we’ll watch “movies”. There’s only one HD object the bish needs to pay attention on.

Anyway, I grab my XXXXXXL Durex wraps and drive to her apartment. Always brahs, always come prepared.

She told me to let myself in. So once I got to her flat, I opened the front door and took a seat on the couch.

“Sandra, I’m here,” I say while I look around. Her dog comes and sniffs my legs. It was a really fucking ugly pug. Thank FUCK my husky, DogBrah had some good aesthetics going on.

“Fuck off, PugBrah!” I whisper to that small shit. PugBrah disappears under the table. 

The place was fucking messy and there was no exercise equipment in plain sight. Seriously brahs, this should have been the first warning. 

“I’M COMING OUT,” I hear a groan from the back. WHAT THE FUCK, Brahs! I stand up and look around. Was there a man here? Was NewsBrah actually a MaleBrah? Fuck. 

Suddenly, a series of thumping footsteps in the passageway occured. The way NewsBrah walked caused so much fucking vibrations that if a girl had to sit on the floor, she would have an instant orgasm.

And there it was… the first sight of NewsBrah. She appeared in front of me as a 1.9m, 160kg woman in just her bathrobe. NewsBrah was so fucking huge that as soon as she entered the lounge, every electronic device lost its’ fucking reception.

Now, there is an age old rule which says: It doesn’t matter how ugly a woman looks, if she appears NAKED on the doorstep of a man’s house, there is a 98% chance that he would bang… and he would bang well.

Unfortunately in this case, NewsBrah was the fucking 2%. I would not bang even if she was the last women on earth and my only food source was Viagra and oysters. 

There was also an “unpleasant” odour coming off of NewsBrah. I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt… maybe she worked for fucking DSW (Durban Solid Waste).

“You look… older,” I say as I tried not to hide my IMMENSE FUCKING SHOCK.

“Oh yeah! Haven’t been able to take a picture lately! Also my hair is different,” She says as she twirls her hair. “Where’s your car, UKZNBrah? I can’t see it!” She asks as she looks out the window.

Maybe the bish chowed the fucking Swole Mobile.

“You know, something just came up! I really have to go!” I shout and get up. Before I could take one step more… NewsBrah drops down her bathrobe and stands in front of me so that my face was in line with her crotch.

I start coughing and my eyes start watering. It was like I was in a UKZN strike and someone let tear gas all up in this motherfucker. My sight was starting to blur and I felt nauseous. 

I don’t know brahs… I mean, it looked like a vag… it was in the same place a vag should be… but I’m sure I saw it pulsating… like it had a soul. What the fuck.

However, there was a worse part.

There was a tattoo above her Hooha. I can’t even say the word vagina right now because I don’t even think it’s of the same species. 

That tattoo was what made me call it quits. Up until today, that same tattoo is still the most scariest thing I’ve seen in my life.

As soon as I saw that tattoo, I got up and pushed her away. Thank fuck my arms were built for war. Once I run, the bish starts raging and roaring like Free Willy having a heart attack. 

By the time I get out of her apartment, she starts smashing shit and groaning. The security had to call the Wildlife protection services to give her a sleeping dart so that she could be subdued. 

I also think she might have thrown PugBrah out of the window. I hope that small shit survived.

I shot down the road so fucking fast while the image of that tattoo replayed in my head.

Right above her clam, there were words imprinted in dark ink:

“If you’re close enough to read it, you’re close enough to eat it.”

That’s why I ran so fast…

Call me motherfucking KickDownBrah.

I saw my friend’s wife at Steers kissing another man.

Serious Brahs, here’s the story.

It was a Wednesday afternoon and I got a call from the prestigious company I work for- Steerz. The store was full and they needed someone extra to take customer orders at the counter. 

Since I do such a fuarking boss job flipping burgers in the kitchen, I decided it would be my duty to cover the extra shift when Steerz needed me the most- on WACKY WEDNESDAY. 

Yes, today is the day all the cheap bastards pile into Steerz for our unique special- buy one burger and get another one free. I get to the store and go to the counter to start taking orders. 

“P-please can I have one Wacky Wednesday,” Some scrawny dweeb says quitely.

“JUST ONE? NO!” I scream. That skinny shit needed to be on a bulk starting today. I ring him up for five Wacky Wednesdays instead.

“Come back next week and you better fucking be AT LEAST 5kgs heavier, you cunt!” I say as the scraggy cunt sighs and then pays for his order.

Some old man was next in line and starts reciting his order. 

That’s when I see it- my friend’s wife walks into Steerz while she’s holding and kissing some phaggot.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” I shout out.

“I beg your pardon!” The old man at the counter says.

“Shut up, Johnny Cash. I’m not talking about you,” I reply as I look over to my friend’s wife. We’ll call her AffairBrah. I leave the counter and walk to the table where AffairBrah and her man are sitting.

“What about my order!” The old man screams.

“You’re going to die of cholesterol, Steve Martin.” I reply to the oldie as I approach AffairBrah. 

“Well well well, what do we have here?” I say once I reach the table. AffairBrah looks flustered. 

“Oh… UKZNBrah. This is my friend, Kolby!” She exclaims with a fake smile. What the FUCK kind of immature name was Kolby. I’ve never heard of a Kolby who was older than 8.

“What does Nathan have to say about this?” I ask. I take a seat opposite them and adjust my purple Steerz “flame grilled” hat. Fuck me. I’m so fucking swole.

“Who’s Nathan?” That phaggot Kolby asks. Damn. AffairBrah is fooling both her men. 

“Her husband, Phaggy!” I reply.

“Uhm, my name is Kolby. And wait what, you have a husband?” Phaggy asks AffairBrah.

I didn’t want there to be a fight in Steerz. I was probably going to be CEO of Steerz in two years hence I should show the other employees how to handle conflict. I command AffairBrah to leave and tell her husband about her expeditions before I do. AffairBrah fucking sprints away in fear. I’m so freaking alpha, brahs. 

It was just me and Phaggy now.

“What do you have to say about all of this, Phaggy?” I ask him as I take off my aviators.

“Uh, my name is Kolby?” he replies. Like I fucking care about Phaggy’s name.

“Your face looks like it caught fire on my Steerz grill and someone tried putting it out with a FUARKING FORK!” I rage at him. 

“Are you… like mentally stable?” Phaggy asks with a frown.

At this point, I was getting really angry. I don’t know, I think I was low on protein. 

I see a bunch of Indian children surrounding the next table and eating their kids meal. I pick up the table with one hand and start spinning it around while the ChildBrahs hold on to the table edges.


“Mire my strength, Phaggy!” I state as the ChildBrahs chant in delight.

“Are you… are you on drugs?” Phaggy whispers. 

“Phaggy, you have 2 minutes to get the FUCK out of Steerz before you become this table!” I shout.

“It’s KOLBY! Are you retarded? How can one person get my name wrong so many times?” Phaggy says!

He must be fuarking shitting in his pants right now! Phaggy gets his stuff and starts to leave. Phaggy was taking his own fucking time though.

I grab his shirt by the shoulder and pick him up. I go to the door and throw Phaggy out.

“Next time do your research on women you smash!” I shout out as Phaggy hits the pavement. 

“Ok! What the fuck is wrong with you! And my name is KOLBY!” Phaggy screams.

“I think I’m low on protein, Phaggy. There’s high maintenance for a body like this,” I say as I take off my purple Steerz apron and show Phaggy my 6 pack. This is not gay at all.

“I have some protein in the car? I’m supply protein to gyms,” Phaggy says as he dusts himself off.

That was all Phaggy ever needed to say to join the Swole Patrol. He even hooked me up with his 9/10 cousin that day.

I banged her with the force of three thousand vuvuzelas when South Africa scored that goal against Mexico in the 2010 world cup.

Phaggy has been ProteinBrah ever since.

Tried to picked up a 9/10 lass at Suncoast Beach, some jealous bish got me kicked out instead.

Serious Brahs, here’s the story.

One Saturday morning, I got a call at 7am from my friend Mongo.

“MONGO! WHAT THE FUCK! IT’S STILL FUCKING DARK OUTSIDE YOU CUNT!” I shouted at that idiot while I was still half asleep.

“Suncoast. Bishes. Yoga. 8am,” Mongo said and hung up. That’s all I needed to know. 

Suncoast was having yoga classes on the beach? The god Brodin has blessed me not only with a magnificent body but with providing some lovely +8/10s in yoga pants. Fellow Brahs, today the SWOLE PATROL walks the sand.

I quickly call my husky, DogBrah and make him jump into my father’s 1990 Ford Escort. 

DogBrah needed to walk on the damn beach. That phaggot was so fucking obese he had to get some cardio in him. If DogBrah didn’t run on the beach, tonight I’ll feed him the shitty Pick ‘n Pay dog chunks that he hates. Stupid fucking asshole.

Anyway, I get to the beach and I see Mongo already oiled up and doing some stretches. Even though he stays in Umhlanga, he literally got to the Suncoast in 5 minutes.

“Mongo! How the fuck did you get here so fast?” I ask as I get my towel and surfboard.

“I RAN… LEG DAY,” He states. 

Mongo then wanted to take that fat shit DogBrah for a jog on the shore. So once they leave, I walk to where the Cardio Bunnies are doing yoga and set up my towel right next to them. 

I eye out a lovely 9/10 in her yoga pants. She was a real lass, brahs. I would bury my sword so far up her, not even King Arthur could pull it out. I’m such a fucking gentlemen.

“Can you give us some space!” Some 4/10 bish exclaims as I put my towel down.

“Yeah, shut up Dora the explorer. It’s a free country,” I reply and I put on my aviators. The bish looked seriously like Dora, with the bob and the round fucking head.

“Men like YOU only act like you’re strong!” DoraBrah says. WHAT THE FUCK, DoraBrah.

Well just to my liking, some skinny phaggot boy happens to walk passed us. He was wearing wrangler jeans and walking on the sand. 

Who the FUCK does that.

Who the FUCK wears jeans and walks on the beach thinking he’s Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.

“Hey, Bruno Mars, come here!” I say as I point to him. WranglerBrah looks confused and then approaches me. 

“Me-me? My-my n-name is Brian,” he stammers.

“Yeah that’s nice, Tracy Chapman. COME HERE NOW!” I order. 

WranglerBrah then quickly comes near me. Without missing a beat, I pick him up with one hand and start doing bicep curls. Everyone immediately starts ‘mirin. It was ‘MIRE CITY up in that bitch.

“Hmmm not bad,” The 9/10 beauty says while DoraBrah looks pissed off. 

I drop WranglerBrah on the sand. WranglerBrah seemed to have collapsed from exhaustion and was just lying on the sand.

“I’m calling security!” DoraBrah says as her stupid hair bobs up and down. I quickly go to the 9/10 bish and look her in the eye.

“Listen cupcake, there may be a lot of fish in the sea, but you’re the only one I’d like to catch and mount back at my place,” I say. She starts mirin’ my smoothness and she takes out her business card which she gives to me.

WranglerBrah suddenly wakes up in a fright. The phaggot then sprints away with his hands in the air while he screamed “BANE IS REAL!” What a beta cunt.

Unfortunately, DoraBrah already was on the phone calling security. I look into the distance and see the security guard running toward me. Fuck. Stupid fucking DoraBrah and her bob ruined everything.

I then bid farewell to the beauty and run along the shore until I met up with Mongo and DogBrah. We quickly pack up and go home.

Later that day, I called the 9/10 and went over to her flat.

I then ravished her with the force of two thousand taxis during rush hour at Warwick Junction.

I am such a fucking King.

Picked up a 9/10 while watching Fast and Furious 6 at Gateway.

Serious brahs, here’s the story.

It was Saturday afternoon and after a godly training at the gym, Mongo and I decide to go to Gateway and watch the Fast and the Furious 6. 

Mongo was a car fanatic and was looking forward to this movie for months. I really don’t fucking understand why, because Mongo and I drive really fucking slow.

You see brahs, once you join the SWOLE PATROL you should drive at about 50km/hr at maximum. When I’m in The SwoleMobile (DadBrah’s 1990 Ford Escort), I cruise at 40km/hr in the slow lane so that cars passing by have plenty of time to ‘MIRE the swole. 

You can even fuarking pass your number through the windows of +8/10 cardio bunnies in their Mercs!

Anyway, so we get to Gateway and buy our tickets. Mongo laughs at the sign above the popcorn area. It said “No guns allowed on the premises.”

“THESE ARE THE ONLY WEAPONS AROUND HERE.” Mongo says to the man giving popcorn as Mongo flexes his biceps. The man looks at Mongo and then starts crying.

“Jesus Christ, Mongo. You can’t just scare innocent people while they’re doing their job!” I say with a sigh. For those of you that don’t know, Mongo is a 2m tall and 140kg bloke. All he needs now is a satellite to orbit him so he can be classified as a fucking planet.

We get to the theatre and sit down. I notice there could be two possible cardio bunnies sitting next to me.

“Mongo! There might be two cardio bunnies next to me but it’s too fucking dark to see!” I whisper.

“I GOT THIS,” Mongo husks. 

Within seconds, Mongo grabs his phone, leans over and the snaps a picture of the two bishes. The flash on his camera was so fucking bright, you could have called me BlindBrah for the next minute.

“What the hell!” The cardio bunny next to me exclaims.

“Two 9/10 cardio bunnies for sure, boss!” He says as he shows me the picture.

“Sorry cupcake. That was just an experiment,” I say to the lass as I remove my aviators.

“Please leave us alone! We’ll call security!” She scoffs as she flips her hair. 

I wasn’t even scared of her calling security, I had Mongo by my side. Mongo was such a huge cunt, he represented security for the whole of fuarking South Africa! The Japanese even have Mongo on their trackers 24/7 because nobody knows what this brah is capable of.

“Alright, well I guess we’ll just leave. I’m sure I saw a 10/10 in the front,” I say. We get up and I flex my back muscles. Once I did that, I hear a pleasurable groan. 

“I do love a guy who works out,” the cardio bunny says with a smile. Once she said that she earned her ticket to the PENETRATION STATION, brahs.

My word, being an alpha male has its’ advantages. I am so fucking beastly.

“Well those Calvin Klein ads have nothing on me,” I say as I give her one last flex. 

Some beta faggot carrying popcorn moves passed me cautiously as he tries to get to his seat. Seriously, why are there always beta fags that enter the SWOLE proximity whenever I try to pick up bishes?

I give him a deathly stare. He losses his popcorn out but before he runs away I immediately pick him up and throw him to the front seat of the theatre like I was playing shot-put. I give the popcorn to the Cardio Bunny.

“Wow, thanks!” The bish says. 

That was an instant panty dropper because she couldn’t keep her hands off me after that. Bishes in general can’t keep their hands off of me (call me MagnetBrah) but that day, the only thing in the theatre that was fast and furious was her.

Once the movie was over, Mongo went to Spur. Spur had to close down and hour later because they were out of meat. I, on the other hand, took the Cardio Bunny to the abandoned corners of gateway.

I then proceeded to smash her with the force of two thousand excited PMB residents during the opening of The Royal Show.

I am the definition of “BEAST”.