The scene is set, the night is cold, the campfire is burning and the stars twinkle in the dark night sky...
Three hang-glider pilots, one from Australia, one from South Africa and the other from New Zealand, are sitting round a campfire near Ayers Rock, each embroiled with the bravado for which they are famous.
A night of tall tales begins....
Kiven, the kiwi says, "I must be the meanest, toughest heng glider dude there us. Why, just the other day, I linded in a field and scared a crocodile thet got loose from the swamp. Et ate sux men before I wrestled ut to the ground weth my bare hends end beat ut's bliddy 'ed un.
Jerry from South Africa typically can't stand to be bettered. "Well you guys, I lended orfter a 200 mile flight on a tiny treck, ind a fifteen foot Namibian desert snike slid out from under a rock and made a move for me. I grebbed thet borsted with my bare hinds and tore it's head orf ind sucked the poison down in one gulp. Ind I'm still here today".
Barry the Aussie remained silent, slowly poking the fire with his penis.
