Hawaii’s queen of crazy Mason “Dirty Nell” Ho releases final, epic sequence from hair-raising month-long romp through Scotland, “His eyes are wild, psychotic slits that bat-dance in your soul!”

A tutorial on how to cling to a flying trapeze, every fibre at breaking point while trying to postpone the inevitable fall.

How many times have we seen Mason Ho, the thirty three year old from Sunset Beach, hissing with pleasure as he flings his thighs open to throes of the thrill?

In this, the final instalment from Mason Ho’s month-long romp through Scotland, described in an earlier instance by JP Currie as like watching “dog chasing its own tail, even if it ends in success it’s going to hurt”, Mason bombs his biggest challenge yet.

The eighteen-minute edit is a tutorial on how to cling to a flying trapeze, every fibre of his skin at breaking point while trying to postpone the inevitable fall, giving an impression of ease and grace.


Mason Ho ditches gloomy Scotland for rock-and-cock POV tubes on a barely habitable island in Fiji, “I stick to what the audience needs, which doesn’t really change all that much!”

Small, busty, doe-eyed Mason Ho courts danger and adventure in Fiji!

Whatever Reef and GoPro are paying little Mason Ho, thirty-four years old or close enough from Sunset Beach in Hawaii, nephew of much-loved world champ Derek Ho, gone too soon, and son of Pipe Master Michael Ho, brother of Coco if that counts for something, it ain’t enough.

The last time we saw Mason “Dirty Dick” Ho, he was in Scotland, where the men are handsome and the whisky is delicious if we dare believe TERF JK Rowling. There, he wrestled obstinate waves that wish to cut you from ass to earlobe. In those extraordinary edits, you can almost hear the urgency in his testicles.

Here, a few days in the life of a haul to Tavarua, that barely inhabitable rock in the Pacific Ocean, although money has manicured it to something close to heaven for the Americans who assault it from March to September, as viewed through his POV lens, with much attention paid to the Reef shoes that dress his little feet.

Before you turn off, wait for the POV tubes, the drop-in by a kite-foiler, the hit on the reef that draws blood and flesh from Dirty Dick’s shoulder.

As always from the studio of Rory Pringle and Mason Ho, essential.

Mason Ho in his wildest Scottish adventure yet, “The ghost of Dirty Dick is still in search of Little Nell!”

More exciting than black cherry melon tips moving in time to a funky drumbeat.

More, here, from Mason “Dirty Dick” Ho’s month-long adventure to Scotland, where the men are handsome and the whisky is delicious if we dare believe TERF JK Rowling.

Hawaii’s Queen of Crazy, who is thirty-three, is like a giant tomcat glaring at these obstinate waves that want to smash you from ass to earlobe. Deadly danger, for Ho, always generates his reflex ferocity to attack, maim and destroy the enemy. You can almost hear the urgency in his testicles.

You keep rubbing that stick, as they say, and you’re gonna get a lot more than a spark.

Essential viewing.

John John “Big Daddy Body” Florence releases rare surf edit, “So Long Sucker!”

John John Florence, better than all those other horned-up lunkheads on tour.

There’s a hint of wildness and pathos in John John Florence’s rough boy persona, this almost thirty-year-old two-time world champion with the impervious reputation.

He is the last custodian of the old way, talk softly, carry a big stick, surf with power and brilliance.

This edit was shot entirely in Portugal, this year the first time in five years he’s been there. Injuries etc.

Son of eighties surfing superstar redefines twin-fin performance in hall-of-fame 15-minute short “It’s almost at the point of cliche. But all cliches begin with a truth!”

Fifteen minutes of inarguably beautiful surfing in waves of real consequence. Not a line or rail out of place.

Beau Cram, son of the legendary Richard, dropped an eminently watchable clip this week.

Cram jnr is a bit of a renaissance man. Travels the country in an old van. Still works on the tools between trips. Doing odd jobs to pay the way. A board design polyglot.

He’s a compact and stylish surfer with his Dad’s intense, brooding eyes. Beau’s been bouncing in and out of the mainstream spotlight over the past few years, and this latest release has followed that staccato rhythm. A jarring, sudden surprise bestowed upon us, like a punch in the nose on a cold winter’s morning.

“Enter the Cramverse”, which is shot by Tom Pearsall, follows Beau on a road-trip through the north west of West Oz, visiting the many razor lipped waves that detonate so violently along that notorious continental shelf.

I rarely watch clips nowaday. Catch most of what I need to on Instagram. Plus videos generally demand too much of my time or attention.

Give me words or give me death.

However, I’ve been a fan of Beau’s surfing for some time now and guessed this would be worth the investment. I was not wrong. Fifteen minutes of inarguably beautiful surfing in waves of real consequence. Not a line or rail out of place. All on what looks like a quiver of Christensen twins (correct me if I’m wrong here).

Refined twins work in good waves. It’s always been known. Part of their origin story. But you can largely thank Torryn Martin for the latest revelation.

Have you dabbled? Added a twin pin to the quiver?

Maybe something with a little contour in the bottom to add that extra hold and drive? The equation in my mind had always been simple.

Twin for the speed. Pulled-in tail for the hold. Doesn’t get much easier.

I’ve had my trusty Campbell Brother’s Alpha Omega for a good five years now. Ridden it in everything from two-foot slop to heaving eight foot HTs. Never once missed a beat when I needed it.

We’ve all seen what Torryn can do. And if the procession of twins I saw doing the run around during the New Year cyclone swell on a certain north coast point was any indication, it’s a secret most of the surfing world has cottoned on to as well.

Nearly all the major shapers have jumped on the bandwagon, releasing their own interpretations of the configuration. It’s almost at the point of cliche. But all cliches begin with a truth.

The only drawback I find is the predilection for lateral surfing. Beautiful for laying on rail. But any sort of vertical jam or pivot can be difficult. God invented thrusters for a reason, I guess.

It’s hard not to compare Cram’s efforts here to Torryn’s.

But Beau brings his own interpretation.

There’s a fair chunk of his Dad’s style. A willingness to attack the edges. To throw himself into situations most would never dare go near. And all with that classic bow-legged trim stance. High-line fever.

Plus there’s a secco of him threading throaty deep tubes on a Beater foamy that must be some of the best finless surfing committed to film thus far. At least that I’ve seen.

Only other person operating in that realm would be Ari Browne.

Say what you will about fins-free; the ability to take off, set up and negotiate the barrel using only your rail line is almost beyond reason.

I do wonder what the crusty north-west locals think about the increase in the “east coast guy in white van with expensive quiver” pilgrimages, like what Beau’s playing at here. Especially with borders opening back up post-Covid.

However it’s a certain breed of surfer who watches a clip of heaving eight-to-ten-foot Tombstones and thinks it’s something they’d like to get around.

The waves will very quickly sort the wheat from the chaff.

I can’t speak to the soundtrack, unfortunately, as I was watching it lying in bed, back to my wife, each of us with our phone on silent, absorbed in our own digital universes.

But I can leave that to you.