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Chuckle Brother's World Tour
We have left the potato picking irish man to fend for himself and headed north.
Our voyage across new zealand lands is like a journey across a page three dinner convention we follow spilt spagetti straw like roads which wind amongst hair extension like bush and of course massive twin peaks.
Each small town we pass is like a location for delieverence the sequel. Incest is like pokiemon here its the fashion.
Funny voyage up to the north where we had to get the ferry to Wellington. We stopped in a small town to partake in a bit on cinema after which we sadly had a low point in our lives we had to cook in car prak of this small town cinema a gastronomic feast of macroni cheese ala henize.
The night followed a simmiliar pikey tone as we reached the town where we had to get the ferry. Instead of forking out for a camp site for the night we tramped it with the best of the hobos. We set up camp in our magic mystery bus in what we thought was just a car park next to our ferry office.
All went well untill we were awoken by a man dressed in a yellow coat and armed with a clip board. Behind this shiny figure our freshly moled up eyes revealed a row of cars behind our van..........we had actually set up camp in the car park for the boarding of the ferry! we were blocking the boarding of the ferry with our van.
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