Matthew Perrin, formerly head of Billabong is in trouble! But for what?
Billabong’s ex-CEO Matthew Perrin’s life has just become a tabloid disaster. Messy divorce, charges of fraud, stealing homes, bankrupting families, affairs, pregnancy, etc. but I didn’t know any of that when I stumbled on a headline that approximated the one you see here. “Ex-Billabong CEO” and “I’ve done a lot of bad things” near each other.
And my mind raced. What could he possibly be talking about?
Maybe once producing boardshorts that cascaded far below the knee and looked like baggy skirts?
Maybe going on a spending spree, buying up UK surf shops at the dawn of Internet retail?
Maybe losing Graham Stapelberg, the greatest ever employee and pal anyone could hope for, to the World Surf League?
Maybe producing a sandal wherein the bottom could be used to pop a beer bottle?
But then I remembered they didn’t do that last one so read the story instead. Would you like to as well?
The then-wife of Billabong boss Matthew Perrin thought he was going to admit he had been unfaithful again when he confessed, “I’ve done a lot of bad things”.
But he replied “no, it’s much worse than that” and told her “I’ve lost everything”, including their $15 million, waterfront home.
Nicole Bricknell dramatically broke down in the witness box as she described how the multi-millionaire couple went belly-up after Perrin allegedly used the Surfers Paradise house as security for $13.5 million credit from the Commonwealth Bank.
Perrin and wife Nicole Bricknell allegedly made $33 million from their investment in the popular surfwear company in the late 1990s.
They enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle for a number of years that included overseas holidays, $10,000-a-month living expenses and the gift of a $75,000 car to her husband, she told the Brisbane District Court.
It all fell apart after Perrin allegedly used their luxury Surfers Paradise home as bank security. The former CEO is now on trial for fraud and forgery after allegedly faking his wife’s signature on the paperwork in 2008.
The couple had designed and built their property together as a “forever home” for them and their three children, Ms Bricknell said.
The trial had to be temporarily halted on Tuesday when she broke down in tears and began hyperventilating.
Etc. Etc. Etc. But wait. The gift of a $75,000 car? Do you know what a $75,000 car looks like in Australia?
Bad things indeed! Though Graham Stapelberg sure would look good in The Penetrator cruising the WSL’s Santa Monica neighborhood.
Don’t you think?
Rumor: Fast Eddie Chases Surfer Photo Editor off Beach!
And not just any photographer but Surfer photo editor Grant Ellis! Maybe!
Wind’s bad, surf’s shit, and I’ve spent my day chasing Finn McGill. He’s the most sought after sixteen-year-old boy on Oahu, jamming myself into his day has not proved easy.
I’ve spoken to his mother, she is a very nice lady. Very proud of her young son. Finn’s dad’s name is Mike. He invented the McTwist! But not really. Just two guys who share a relatively uncommon name. I know what that’s like. Finn’s Mike is a photographer, not the prominent 80’s skateboarder.
While I wait for Finn to find a few minutes between chats with far more prominent outlets, I figured it’d be a good time to dish a tasty North Shore rumor.
Everyone loves Rumours!
But I’m not talking about that kind of rumor. Different spelling. The American one. No ‘u’. Wherein I tell a story based on unreliable second hand information. Journalism at its finest.
Still a good kind, if not the best. And it involves Eddie Rothman. The world loves Eddie stories, right? Maybe not as much as they love Fleetwood Mac, but it’s still entertainment. Not a legendary 70’s rock album, but what is?
Why did Mr Rothman chase Surfer photo editor Grant Ellis off the beach? Was it due to the mag’s decision to not run a video of Big Island local, and shark attack survivor, Jimmy “Ulu Boi” Napeahi?
My sources say “yes.”
But what video, or rather, which video?
Probably not this one, since it was produced by Freesurf.
I don’t think it was this one, because it’s a few years old.
I hope it wasn’t this one. It’s pretty boring.
I truly do not know. I only know two things: I could be totally misinformed, and this whole thing is nothing but clickbait. I have no idea what title Derek’s gonna throw on here, but if you’ve read this far, you got got!
And the trailer for his new film The Smiling Bag inspires.
Is there anything Dion Agius cannot do? Is there any hill he cannot climb? Wave he cannot slide? Industry he cannot slay? Island he cannot live on? (did you know Manhattan is an island? Did you know Byron is a cultural island?)
And you hater, you low bastard, you asshole. I dare you to watch this trailer and grumpily critique. I dare you to watch and find fault.
Open your mind to art! And you think I’m joking? You think I’m being purposefully/ironically hyperbolic?
Well you are wrong. The angles, interludes, music, cast, staging, direction and editing here are as good as I’ve ever seen in a trailer. The turns alone…
Have you ever seen this many full-throated turns in a modern surf film trailer?
I told you already that you are an asshole. I was right then and I am right now.
There is nothing to hate here. Only things to love. Only, hopefully, the future of surf.
But I would too, if I were the Almighty. What has the Lone Star state contributed to this world besides anguish? Besides Rick Perry?
And so he has taken away their one bit of joy. Their wavepool.
Austin’s local NBC affiliate reports:
The 14-acre surf park just outside of Austin will not reopen anytime soon, after damage under their lagoon caused them to close on Oct. 31.
NLand Surf Park, which opened Oct. 7 following a round of legal delays, was forced to drain their lagoon to make the needed repairs. Neighbors said the drained water flooded nearby streets. “It was full of water, I couldn’t even walk through here,” said Patricia Garcia, referring to her driveway.
“[The city] let us know about this and we immediately addressed the issue. We take every opportunity to be good neighbors,” NLand spokesperson Chris Jones wrote in an email to KXAN News at the time.
Monday, the park sent out a message saying they will not reopen this season, but did not include specific dates.
“While this is disappointing for us all, we turn our focus to 2017 and the exciting plans we have in store. One hint: hops,” founder Doug Coors, whose relatives started Colorado-based Coors Brewing Company, said. In an email to KXAN, a spokesperson confirmed there will be a brewery on site sometime in 2017.
And so God is turning Texas’s one bit of joy into beer. It makes sense doesn’t it though?
Writer troubled by WSL signage as North Shore teen Finn McGill slays Jamie O, Jack Robinson and co…
I didn’t expect the event to run today. Bad wind, lack of swell. Figured Tuesday was a sure thing. So I went out, drank too much, slept in. Woke up as the contest was called on. Oops. Real professional.
Sucked down espresso as fast as I could, watched Jack Robinson slay it on my laptop, then hammered through traffic to the event site. My tardiness forced me to park in front of Rockpiles, hoof it down to the beach like an animal. The sun was beating down, I was sweating buckets.
Checked in, got my stupid little wrist band, headed down to the scaffolding.
Strolled past a lovely little sign the WSL decided to staple to one of the trees inside Ehukai beachpark.
When will they learn?
The nonsense about use of images or audio at the event site is technically true, but only because you need permission from the Hawaii Film Office to shoot anything commercial on Hawaii’s beaches. The HFO generally only grants one permit at a time, and it’s safe to assume that it’s currently in the WSL’s hands.
But the WSL is not a regulatory agency. They can’t do shit to enforce it other than call the police and hope HPD feels like doing something.
“If they got a permit from the FAA it’s like getting a permit from us. If you apply for it first you can say that, ‘I have a permit here, I have the right to say no shooting here or whatever.’”
However any violations would fall to the FAA to enforce, meaning the WSL would need to contact them, after which the FAA would go after violators.
While I think that stuff is kind of interesting, it’s old hat. Been there, done that. No one cares but me.
But, you know what really sticks in my craw?
You agree that you WILL NOT engage in that may damage or injure property, any person,the name and brand of the WSL, the Event, an athlete, or any sponsor at the event;
Nope, nope, nope.
It’s a public space, no number of permits can cancel your first amendment right to free speech. Feel like spray painting “fuck the W$L” on a bed sheet and hanging out on the beach all day? You can, they can’t stop you, and if they tried you’d most likely have a lucrative lawsuit on your hands.
You might be thinking, “Rory has a real problem with theoretical outrage.” Well, you’re absolutely correct. I live in my own head, have a tough time accepting inconsequential injustices. It’s a personal failing, probably. And the WSL is really just giving it a shot. Tons of guys were shooting without being hassled. It’s the equivalent of me posting a sign on my front door that says, “By entering my home you agree to suck my dick.”
Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll fall for it. But probably not.
Kaipo Guerrero’s dulcet tones were blaring from the beachfront speakers, and the early day conditions weren’t great. Choppy morning sickness, lots of low scores. Whoever found the diamond in the rough had the heat wrapped up. I bought a cup of lemonade from the cute little girl playing entrepreneur at the foot of the Pipe access path, hoped it would help my hangover. It did not. It was terrible. The little monster was selling sugary premix garbage. I thought I was in for some homemade goodness.
Why do people bring their surfboards to surf contests? The beach was littered with them, vacationer wannabes, leashes wrapped tightly around tails, turning them into trip-up liabilities. The best was the guy in button-up, pocketed, shorts, boxers peaking from the top. No wax on his deck, no fins in his plugs, a jammed packed ABC store bag dangling from his other hand. He was walking back and forth on the beach. I don’t know what he was thinking.
I’d turned up in time for heat four. JOB found a beautiful Backdoor bomb. I found a gorgeous place in the bleachers. It’s the only real reason to get a media pass, that access to shade. Sitting in the sun all day is torture, sitting on the sand is for plebs. It was elevated, nearly empty. A heavenly way to spend the day watching some very good surfing. Some slow moments, some dull heats. But it was good, if not great.
What happened to Fredrico Morais? Why isn’t he in the event? Alejo Muniz is out with an injury, Morais gets a ticket straight into the big show. Which is really how it should work anyway, when a person is leading the Triple Crown and not a member of the WCT.
The media pass also gets me a spot in the theoretical interview bullpen. Theoretical because there was one. And anyway, what kind of questions am I going to ask? “Yeah,bro, did you totally get tubular out there?”
Mikey Bruneau made a terrible mistake in the final seconds of heat five, stuffed Kaito Kino on a crummy left. He had second wrapped up, had no chance of improving his score. Zeke Lau got a gift. Bruneau got angry.
Gave Kito a hard time in the water, threw his own board in the kiddy pool, stalked up the beach. It was a heartbreaking way to lose, easy to understand the reaction.
I wouldn’t have thrown my board in that half ocean/ half piss, body of stagnant water. It’s gross, got more so as the day passed. From clear and almost inviting, to murky and greenish and nasty.
A lot of sets were swinging wide, hitting Off the Wall. Fuck that shallow hunk of hell reef. No shortage of takers though. Throughout the day I watched guys get murdered as they gave it their best. It was a nice way to fill the slower moments.
Mason Ho lost in heat seven, it made me sad. He just couldn’t find his groove, and was up against NatFlo and a Moniz clan member. I don’t remember exactly which one, but it hardly matters. Seth and Josh were killing it the entire event. Josh made the finals.
I worried that the rising tide would conspire with an increasing North wind to kill the comp. They did not. The surf improved, and increased in size throughout the day. It never hit the flawless perfection for which we all hope, but there were moments.
Jack Robinson found them repeatedly. He was amazing, I was sure he’d repeat last year’s win. A slow semifinal heat proved his undoing.
Ditto with NatFlo. Over the course of the day he found the best waves, surfed them perfectly, only to be knocked out by Josh Moniz and the on fire Finn fucking McGill.
Cody Young stood out in my mind, as did Zeke Lau. The second there is kind of, like, duh, but Cody wasn’t on my radar. And, boy oh boy, did he ever impress.
I observed my first humans clad in WSL jerseys in the wild today. They were exactly the type you’d expect to see wearing them. I also think that Kalani Chapman and Dave Wassel must share a common ancestor.
But Finn McGill, let’s go back to Finn fucking McGill. He grabbed a hideous throater in the dying minutes to sneak his way into the final, then proceeded to go insane. I’ve never heard of Finn before today, but watching him combo the field in a final heat featuring a Moniz and a Beschen was unreal. Inspiring. Magical. Amazing.
Again and again he upstaged everyone. Surfed better than anyone had all day. He had the win locked, I was sure of it with fifteen minutes to go. So were the pod of humpbacks who showed up to watch his display.
Then a security guard singled me out and kicked me out of the contest site. “They” told him to. Who are “they?” He couldn’t tell me.
I was still allowed on the beach, obviously, but that type of treatment cannot stand. I stalked to the media trailer, no one was sure why I was told to leave. No one seemed to care. So my temper go the better of me, and I left. Fuck it, I don’t need this shit. I’ll just fly back to Kauai. Where people are kind and welcoming and, most importantly, leave me alone.
I nearly wrote a scathing email to woman in charge of dealing with us writer dorks, but decided to dial it back and just ask what was going on.
Turns out it was just a confused and over-zealous security guard. Hardly a rare creature.