Following increasing feelings of guilt and shame, Johannesburg resident, Blue Bulls fan and training supplement addict Johannes Berger admitted to reporters that this morning that, despite his 3-sizes-too-small Tap Out gym shirt, totally schweet pecs, seeming violent disposition and tribal barbed-wire tattoos on both arms, he was, in fact, "a total pussy."
"Laaike, you maaight think that I'm laaike this lank angry oke, bru," he said in a statement yesterday morning, "but actually I'm a cowardly , homophobic-and-yet-strangely-homoerotic guy who hides behind the image of a boet you don't mess with. Brutha."
He pushed through his wretched sobs to explain how his social image and the corresponding peer pressure of his screaming-in-the-gym friend circles were forcing him to live a lie.
"The other night at the bar where I go to not enjoy myself and try to start fights, this oke's eyes momentarily passed over my chick and I was forced to do that whole 'what the flip are you flippen' looking at, china? You checkin' my chick, bra? You should chew a brick 'cos you'll lose less teeth that way, guy.' It almost turned into a fight, which I definitely would have lost, even though he was a head shorter than me, much smaller than me and was by himself thereby making him the perfect fighting target for me an my eight friends."
Berger, who has no formal training or experience in boxing, self-defence, fighting or any form of martial arts, including that TapOut MMA crap, said it was only the 'hold me back, okes, or i'll klap this flippen boet' that prevented him from getting the utter crap beated out of him.
"It was a close call," he said. "I've never even been in a fight before, even though I own a small country's GDP worth of Affliction and TapOut Tees."
Berger went on to say that although he has been keeping up a very convincing facade for almost 23 years now, it is only a matter of time before his friends discover how much of a gutless yellow-bellied sack of shit he really is.
"I've already got the crap tattoos, too-taaight kiff gym vest and schweet biceps - there isn't anything more, unless I buy an orange-magged Subaru that is strangely too small for me." he said. "I can't do anything more to prove my boytjiehood. One small slipup and I'm done for."
His friends could not be reached for comment, as they were all too busy screaming at each other by the benchpress section for "one more, boych, come on, push it!".
