35 b. Hairy legs to kill for...maybe, maybe not.

 A bizarre and, in many ways, a decidedly dodgy incident – which I had completely erased from my mind until being reminded of it by Mac – took place during our short sojourn in Johannesburg before the band drove down to Cape Town and took up residency at the Grand Prix Night Club.  The incident which included the spectacle of Mac, Lea and I parading up and down on a table with our trousers rolled up to our knees – as you do...was just the start of it.

Soon after we arrived in Johannesburg (as mentioned in blog 35 ) Billy organized for us to play at Archie’s Beat Club, The Fire Station and at The Flying Saucer.

It was suggested by Billy that it would be a good idea for us to swing by Archie’s and show our faces. We arrived at the club, said our hellos to the management and sat round drinking (free drinks) and listening to the band. 

After awhile Jack and Frankie went back to the hotel leaving Lea, Mac and my good self. Three girls were being being chatted up by three guys and somehow or other we ended up at their table. When it was time to leave for some inexplicable reason a contest was proposed…a contest in which Lea, Mac and I pitted our legs against the other guys legs. Well, not our legs per se but the hairs on them. The trio adjudged to have the hairiest legs would have the honour of taking the girls home. The girls were to be the arbiters of this bizarre contest. 

So that's how me, Lea and Mac came to be parading up and down on a table-top with our trousers rolled up to our knees in front of three young ladies.

After a few minutes of deliberation a verdict was reached and we were declared the winners. It was official we had the hairiest legs!

I know what you good people are thinking. “What a load of cobblers. Right?” I don’t blame you. Writing it down I kept asking myself did this really happen. The answer is yes, it really did. Unlikely as it sounds it is, in fact, the God’s honest truth. There was a hairy legs contest at Archie’s Club in Johannesburg…and the guys with the hairiest legs got the girls. Us.  Not that we were excessively folically endowed...but apparently we had the edge. Anyway, flushed with triumph we drove our ‘prizes’ out to a suburb in Johannesburg to drop off the first girl…who during the drive had paired off with Mac…in fact she was all over him. When we drew up outside her apartment block, the girl, not wanting the night to end, invited us all in for a night cap...we duly obliged. (Breathalyzers had yet to be invented).

Five minutes later we were all kerfuffelling (petting) in the lounge when the door of the flat opened and some  bleary eyed young guy wandered in and started ranting in Afrikaans at the girl who was now firmly ensconced on Mac’s lap. The girl screamed an unintelligible tirade back at him before coquettishly turning her attention back to Mac.  

Mac, who was slightly disconcerted by the bleary-eyed young guy’s sudden appearance and the fact that he was wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt - which sort of indicated he lived in the apartment - asked the obvious question, “who the hell is he?"

Her reply was jaw-droppingly unexpected not least because she was nibbling Mac’s ear when she replied, “my f-ing husband”.

Mac sat bolt upright. “Your f-ing what...?"

“Husband”.

“Your husband…? You gotta be kidding me." Mac jumped to his feet, “Jesus, man, I didn't realize…I – uh …”

And here's where it all gets clouded by the mists of time…the way I remember it was Mac's ‘girl’,  incensed that he was going to leave, screamed at her hubby to get the  F--- out. (some words were the same in Afrikaans as they are in English). When her husband refused she grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed him in the shoulder.

As soon as that happened we were out of there in a heart beat. The three of us leaped out the apartment window which thankfully was open and on the ground floor - legged it to the combi and drove off into the night.  

The next day we nervously scanned the newspapers for a report of a stabbing... to our relief none carried the story.

I remember the girl  stabbing her husband but maybe that has been added to the mix over time...maybe she had just threatened her old man with the kitchen knife. But whether she stabbed him or not it was eye-opening introduction to the big city for three small town boys.