Postcards from Los Santos

Spanning a week or two we begin with the end of last night and a couple of bad fellows who got on the wrong side of the Lack of Motorcycle Club. They just wanted an excuse for a cuddle.

The Habanero, a particularly shit car that holds a special place in EMW's and my heart for it saved us in an hour of need. Now it has become the icon of a club that needed no icon. The first rule of Habanero Club is that you blow it up.

Trust is of vital importance at Lack of Motorcycle Club. Satre demontrates how much she trusts the Big Patriot Chappie (Big Rob).

It's a modern form of "Don't trust my landing, lads!". Big R and I safely exiting the aeroplane, which was parked expertly in a district where the local town planners forgot to put a runway. Tisk tisk. Big R: see? This is what happened last time I tried to fly inverted in a sea plane.

The Lack Of MC in full effect: L-R: The President Evil Matt, Satre, Big Bob and Fish.


In that last one, it looks like Big R (in the stars and stripes) has just admitted to thinking Episode 1 is the best Star Wars.

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