Damo and the Introduction of Smut

Every group has one: The fire starter. Kearsney had Wayne Bear. Stellenbosch had Matt Sterne. The character that evokes delirium in some, hatred in others and legendary stories from the rest.

South Korea has Damo. 


Damo New-tooth Smith is a bit of celebrity around these parts. A notorious career of shanaginans, most of which unspeakable in pleasant company have elevated him to what is now hero status.  If you happen to be out with him it is impossible to be referred to as "that guy last night" because he will find some way to blow any competition away and claim the title. Most nights end in Damo being naked - an impressive feat as Korean winter approaches and the icy winds don't appear to be slowing his stride.

Then he organized a birthday party- one which drew numbers from around the country who sacrificed the Korean F1, bungee jumping and a world-renown fireworks festival all to be present at what would surely be a momentous occasion. I had small window of freedom between a late Friday night at the "office" and moving house on Sunday with which to throw down with the group of heathens that was to assemble at our destination, (Daejeon).His first stunt was to dress us all in shame. Masks were created with Damo's ridiculous face, which were mandatory for all attendees to wear for the duration of the joll. I can only imagine the horror of the Korean police force when their CCTV cameras picked up 30 clones of one of their most wanted fugitives running around town. Teams were split up according to awkwardness and given an absurd array of tasks to perform, ranging from Soju consumption to the lunging of natives. Families that had unwittingly strayed outdoors quickly discovered that they had picked the wrong night for a Pizza Hut excursion as a few dozen Damo's ravaged the streets of Daejeon in search of cheap liquor and unsuspecting locals to accost.

A few members overshot the mark, as expected. One of these was the same character that had passed out after 15 minutes of the Global Gathering experience just a few weeks ago. Making his own rules which now included physical abuse, it seemed that James had still not learnt to cope with the Soju revolution. One bar had to be removed from the task list as anyone bearing a Damo mask became prohibited from entering, following James' raucous behavior. The conclusion of the team missions led to Cacoon- a club that Damo had picked for its 10pm to 2am free bear, since more alcohol was just what the crowd needed after hours of enforced debauchery. The braver Koreans approached us on occasion to learn the secret of why 30 humans would masquerade as alcoholic clowns. What they got for their courage was either an aggressive groping or a drink thrown in their face. When it became clear to all involved that free beer was the last thing anyone needed, the mob moved onto a more attractive setting- probably one that drew patrons for reasons like good music and décor rather than free booze. As the party moved onwards though, I did not. I could not. I was lost. I tried one stairwell, then the next. I ended up on the roof, the women's toilet, the basement and finally the kitchen (oh god they serve food here). I could not find a way out. I got the staff to help me but could see that they had no idea where I wanted to get to because they kept directing me to the bar saying, "free beer, very good." It's a strange phenomenon that just prior to an alcohol-induced blackout you sometimes get a great sense of clarity, and mine was crystal. "Am I too old for this shit?" Stuck in a dingy goth club, desperate to escape? I never thought that I'd be 'this guy'.
I was rescued by James who was hitting his second wind and scooped me out of that place like an avenging Maverick. We moved on to a club that the 2 day-old stamp on my arm right now tells me was called Club After. Here I found Dorian; who I've decided will now be known as Urkel from "Family Matters". The three of us hit the dance floor and the 9 hours of dutch courage within me made the decision- it was time for the smut. From what I had heard and seen, the craze had never reached these shores. Were they ready? It didn't matter. I started with a couple of mamba's which got the locals interested. Who was this creature and what the hell was he doing with a peacock beak in each hand? I took it back a notch and threw the cobra at them, something which I had learnt from Sarah in the Caribbean. They didn't like this ritual and greeted it with the same contempt with which the Haka is met by the Irish- but with less respect.

An example of "the salmon"

By the time I was busting out salmon-leaps from the stage the dance floor had emptied. But I was in the zone, and an earthquake wouldn't have fazed me. In a couple of minutes, the 3 of us had chased the entire crowd of Soju-swiggling So-Ko's out of the arena. I erroneously saw this as a victory, as it would be in Terrace back home. But on this occasion we were in trouble. What we have now established is that we were being told on to the officials, who didn't take much time to act. I don't remember the incident itself, as I was overwhelmed by the emotion that only the real smut and accounting 188 can provide. All I know is that we found ourselves outside, in the cold, covered in a shame that surpassed what Damo's mask had brought us. Naturally MacDonald's was the only option and as predicted, the breakfast menu was on offer.

A demonstration of the smut http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMLCrzy9TEs
Damo in his prime http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=594307022422