for Hazza’s credit card to fail come payment time. “The glassy told us he’d kill us if we didn’t return straight away,” laughed off Brenno later. “It was pretty heavy.” The boys ran back, grabbed Brenno’s card and fixed up the bill much to the glassy’ surprise. “I told him, ‘Where did you think we’re going to run to mate? We’re on a straight stretch of beach’. ”

Later that evening while running amok at another plush resort (which by an awesome twist of luck was being waitressed by a giant-bapped Septic chick), Hippo and Brenno were put in sleeper holds by two angry locals. It seems the local lads were offended by Brenno’s hip-jiving dance moves. “Mate, it wasn’t even that bad,” said the tiny-built natural-footer before justifying his moves on the rug. “It wasn’t as if I was grinding any of ’em or doing anything disrespectful. I just did some weird shimmy and the next thing I knew some Samoan dude was trying to put me to sleep.”

Chapter 3 A day of prayer

Sundays are strictly for religion in Samoa. This ethos kinda suited the BKII crew. Check it, we’d had a coupla wild days on the sip and we were now looking to refocus our energies on getting the job done. Yet, much to our dismay, surfing and other exerting activities of any kind are prohibited on Sundays. However, since none of us were: a) Samoan; or b) Christians, we ignored the warning. “You can ask the fellas in the resort next door to take you out surfing, but I’m not allowed to leave the office today,” said our guide Tim when we approached him with the suggestion of just sneaking out for a quickie. “Last time I did it I had to apologise to the chief so I’m kinda stuck on land today.” We