Gee, 1966, I was still half sperm, half egg … well, a full sperm … doing laps looking for an egg to call my own. Or was I an egg waiting for a sperm to bite me on the ass?
Geez, how did we swimmers know we needed to find an egg? How did my egg side know I needed to be bitten? Maybe my egg side was raped? Were there afternoon egg finding and swimming classes back in the sack?
Just a few short GC ones here.
Shit me dacks, Aussies had jobs making stuff back then…
Bit closer to home, a longer one about Brisbane.
Dad and his side are from Ipswich and Oxley, so I’m kinda partial.