The perfect 6-pack.

Since we appear to be at the height of summer, and both off peak, we thought we'd walk down town and get the bus back ... BAD move, the last bus which would have been of any use to us left King St. at 14:50, or 10 mins (ish) after we arrived in town. Bugger!

All manner of throw-in-the-trash shots, one of a pretty good reflection of the George Hotel in the screen of a wagon owned by a chap called ''Canute'', doubt if he's any relation.

On the way down, we past this youth catching the rays. I presume the weird/jaunty angle of his lid depicts his off-duty status. (Another of those sneaky, from the hip jobs).
Anyway as we walked by, and exchanged insults (As you do) it became apparent that
A) I've seen more fat on a greasy chip, or a butcher's knife.
B) He also had the most excellent, text-book six-pack. NOT a five-and-a-half pack or an off-set six as is often seen, but a spot-on set of 2 equal and parallel threes. I wish, now I'd asked and done the job properly, he'd have put the ''real men wear pink'' brigade to shame.