I apologise in advance to any readers called Stoffel who come...

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    I apologise in advance to any readers called Stoffel who come from Brakpan, and who joined the South African Navy.

    Stoffel from Brakpan fell in love with boating when he witnessed his cousin, Koos, came third in the dabchick class yachting race one windless afternoon on Germiston Lake. A large coal truck from Witbank hurtling down the nearby highway generated a puff of wind that Koos was fortunate to catch, and it wafted Koos's dabchick across the finishing line. Stoffel applied to join the South African Navy soon afterwards, and as there was no IQ test, he was accepted.

    Now Stoffel's dad had heard about navy men, and he warned Stoffel to be wary of friendly strangers, especially those with wide toothy smiles. On his first trip out to sea, Stoffel found himself the focus of unwanted attention, but being wised-up by his dad, Stoffel did not fall for the please-pass-me the-soap-that-I-dropped trick, or various other ploys to lure him into exposing himself to danger. Just after drying himself, a guy rushed into the communal shower, and shouted, “Hey guys – bad news – we have a puncture, so we will not get back to port tonight.”

    “A puncture! Are you sure?”, asked Stoffel, dubiously.

    “Yep.” said the harbinger of bad news, “Check the port-side rear wheel for yourself if you don't believe me.”

    Being non-trusting by both nature and nurture, Koos stuck his head through a porthole, and he leaned out as far as he could to get a good view of the waterline. He shouted back, “Ach man, just as I thought, you are lying. This thing has no WHEEEEEEEEELS!”
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