First of all and let's get this straight before our reputation slides even further, the introduction to our last issue was an aberration. Guilt? A conscience? A Feel Good issue? Bah! Who cut off our balls and force-fed us the oestrogen/ecstasy cocktail? Before we realise it, we'll be encouraging you to vote for the Gay Parenting/Free David Hicks/All Men are Rapists Green party instead of the steady hand of our great father, John Winston Howard.
For the record. Peaceniks and Climate Change and Bongo Drum Solos still bore me to tears while unsolicited insults and those wacky suicide belt-wearing camel cowboys looses my sexy. This magazine marks a welcome return to the art of mud slinging and character assassination. It's also the return of something we've forgotten about for the last few issues - the Surf Shot. So, for now at least. Stab's more about the Photo than the Word.
The photo shoot this issue revolves around is a Slater/Taj/Dion Agius session at South Strad-broke Island in March. Bereft of any original thought, we asked Globe to fund the launching of a chopper, which they kindly did, and the three professionals poked and hacked at the dying embers of a Gold Coast swell. John Respondek shot the salmon swimming in the barrel below while Andrew Shield had the harder job of swimming with his water rig. Both angles of world-class surfing will get your mind moving with the possibilities of how far and wide you can push your surfboard.
What else? We parody the Drive-Thru series, a surf movie franchise absolutely ripe for satire and we give the Hobgood Challenge, a surf contest between a handful of world-class juniors on the island of Pohnpei, a decent run.
And, for something a little different, we convinced Andy Irons and Lyndie Dupuis to lose the surf chic for an afternoon via this ish's Slab Stud cover shoot. (Flip the magazine to see what I'm talking about.)
I'm positive the irony of a duel cover featuring Slater and Irons won't be lost on either man. But which side carries the more weight - surfing or looking absolutely splendid in a fine, slim-fitting, two-button, $3000 Paul Smith suit while your girlfriend wags her tail in Agent Provocateur underwear? Style or substance? Function or fashion? Fundamental questions that dog our every
move. - DEREK RIELLY.
