Watch: Mason Ho in “Got dicks to suck and seats to bend over!”

Your favourite surfer rides one single fin, one day, two-to-fifeen feet. Includes two near-scalpings.

Mason Ho and his filmer Rory Pringle sure don’t flap their arms around waiting for life to happen.

Every week, a new edit, a new-ish angle.

In today’s instalment of Mason Ho’s life on the North Shore, with winter gone and the Shore heading towards summer with its wild azaleas, mountain laurel, trillium and other blooming flowers putting on a dazzling display, we’re treated to a last swell.

April 15. Mason wakes up, waves are two feet. By dark it’s fifteen.

He rides, mostly, one board, a six-four single screw San Clemente’s Timmy Patterson shaped for Donnie Frankenreiter twenty years ago.

As always, his feet are on fire and his ass rarely catches a rail although our little frenzied rodent is almost scalped, twice, the second time by daddy Mike.

It’ll knock the moss off you!

Bluewater sailing: John Florence in “Money can’t buy you happiness, but it can buy you a yacht big enough to pull up right alongside it!”

Soar across the Pacific with John John Florence and pals…

You ever wanted to throw the ropes and point a boat somewhere thousands of miles beyond?

Four years ago, the two-time world champ John John Florence declared, “My ultimate goal with sailing is to be able to travel fast, cover long distances, and go surfing. I want to combine the two.”

So he buys snowboarder Travis Rice’s forty-eight foot cat, Falcor, with its three “queen berths” (everyone’s a queen at sea), one thousand feet of sail area and a main saloon where all sorts of naughty and dangerous activities often take place at sea, and follows a dream.

This ain’t no cheap boat with narrow cots and a large mirror shard on top of a steamer trunk and some taped-up magazine pictures on the wall.

A fine vessel built for adventurous trans-Pacific voyages.

Of all the edits and series doin’ the rounds this draws gypsy rings around ’em all.

I swear if you look closely you'll see Strider's tongue unfurl like an iguana's.

Problematic: Dancing woman squats over face of WSL commentator Strider Wasilewski; and the gang-bang of a beautiful teenage surf star by “heavily therapeuticised muscle men in matching singlets!”

Oh those naughty nineties…

So what can I tell you about the unfortunate nineties?

The giant suits, the skinny surfboards, the dying days of a western patriarchy where rich young men laughed at “begging peasants” in Jakarta and naive boys on their first trip overseas were trussed up like pigs by heavily therapeuticised muscle men in matching singlets; and a dancing woman at a hillbilly hoe-down squats over the face of a man who will one day become the WSL’s number one commentator, exposing her smooth and, likely, damp underparts.

Heady days although this sorta behaviour now poses a “problem” and “raises issues”.

When I watch the movie below I think, ooowee, these boys knew how to live.

Essential: Watch Chippa Wilson and Balaram Stack in “Pink Flamingos!”

"I'm all dressed up and ready to fall in love."

In this film by Canadian filmmaker Ben Gulliver, we see the Australian Chippa Wilson, and New Yorker Balaram Stack, release a murderous hammering at off-season Waco wave tank, flavoured pink.

Surf films are, generally, too important to be left to surfers and therefore it has taken Gulliver, from Vancouver, to complete a film that thrills in much the same way as John Water’s classic Pink Flamingos.

The pitch in Pink Lemonade is simple: colour the water at Waco pink.

Surf and film.

The completed work is much bigger.

A gift from Gulliver whose work is so elevated it raises a finger to his peers as if to say, “Eat the bird, bitch!”

PINK LEMONADE from Ben Gulliver on Vimeo.

Watch: Eighties fabulist and yellow-haired honeypot Oscar Langburne in “Well, he’s a fat little insect, hideous to the eye!”

But such a pretty slumberous style!

Oscar Langburne is an Australian goofyfooter, in his seventeenth year, for whom eighties guitar bands hold the key to existence and who looks like a happy angel with black nail polish.

If you were to road-trip with the kid, your ears would tune in to a worldly mix of The Birthday Party, The Jam, The Cure, Television etc.

Oscar might be accused, correctly or incorrectly depending on your point of view, of mimicking the slack-kneed style of slumberous South African Craig Anderson, but this, I think, might be more of Oscar’s good taste dripping through rather than he playing a con.

This edit by Billy Lee-Pope, shows Oscar surfing Raglan, in New Zealand.

It was meant to be part of a two-pronged approach where the kid showed his chops in long lefts and long rights, the righthander was gonna be Winkipop, but COVID shuttered the Victorian experience.