This week’s reason for you to go out and buy new panties on account of the ones you are wearing now being soiled with funny fluid is the only straight boy in NYADA, Dean Geyer. If you lazy whores put in the hours online like any self-respecting cyber-stalker would, then you’d have stumbled upon an interview of him speaking in the most soul-destroying South African accent. This is because this beautiful princess was born in South Africa, but was shipped over to down-under when the blacks took over (read: his parents obviously follow the teachings of St. Steve).
The prettiest boy in Glee was born in Jozie, but moved to Melbourne wile he was 15. There he went on to star in the reason the world hates Australia, the soapie Neighbours, and also compete on the Australian leg of Idols. This talented young is even signed by Sony BMG. With all the teeth whitening and brow shaping and tanning, WHERE does he find the time to record music?! Well, I suppose that’s all been put on hold since his latest venture is starring as uber chiseled NYADA Junior Brody Weston.
Why THE FUCK does Mzansi not have proper programming? If we had anything better than fucking Isidingo to offer South African actors, then maybe this exquisitely preened piece of meat would have brought his waxed and buffed man-nips back to the motherland to continue his acting career instead of going to America and pretending not to want to empty his bowels on set every time he has to do a goddam duet with Lea Michele. I blame the SABC…AND MNet…Useless motherfuckers. Anyway, in lieu of his presence in the country, here are some more visual material of said man-nips:
Hold on to your panties ladies (but mostly gents) because your pussies are about to explode. This week’s Knopkierie is brought to you by the very talented Mr Dylan King. Apparently he’s a rapper who also produces shit, endorses some shit and talks about shit on StarGist, but I’m more concerned with his exquisitely sculpted man-tits. Hmmmmm… OM NOM NOM NOM.
Sowetan Live should change their calendar name from “Mzansi’s Sexiest” to “Mzansi’s meh and gross-looking” because Dylan was in the running for the 2013 calendar, but was out-voted by obviously blind-ass bitches who decided to go with FAS-faced Melusi Yeni, pasty-as-fuck J’Something (appropriate name because I have not a fucking clue who this trick is) and tanned Meerkat Lee Stemmet. What the fuck people?? To prove my point, here are some more pictures of Blayze Entertainment CEO and face of Creative Recreation sneakers:
Fine, whatever, it’s not Saturday I know, but I couldn’t let this one slide…for obvious reasons. This week’s (last week’s) Knopkierie is Good-Guy-Rugby-Player-From-Down-Under David Pocock. I could write a whole article about that surname, but I shan’t because he deserves better. He does not, however, deserve better than juvenile cracks about his unfortunate family name because he is pretty much the embodiment of the expression “Greek God”, but rather because he is a) surprisingly not as thick as a box of jockstraps as his physical appearance would suggest, because b) he loves the gays as much as the gays love him (well, maybe not as much; I highly doubt he jerks it to a life-sized poster of Elton John and his life partner) and c) he does his bit by helping out the poor aids waifs of Zim. You might be wondering why an Australian rugby player qualifies as a eligible candidate for Knopkierie. Well, all this segment really is, is me showing the world what I have in my spank bank, but let me try to legitimize this decision like a professional (you: HAHAHAHAHA).
There are various reasons why I despise Robert Mugabe. His poor dress-sense being one of the top reasons and being instrumental in David Pocock becoming an Aussie is another. We all know that Bob gave Zimbabwe a good old fisting as far as agriculture and the economy is concerned, which led to the Pocock family leaving Zim and moving to Oz when David was 14. This then resulted in a direct loss for South African rugby (and thirsty bitches nation wide) because if he stayed in Zim he OBVIOUSLY would have come to Mzansi to pursue his rugby career as we all know that Zim was never that big on the rugga. FUCKING MUGABE! Luckily, judging from his twatter, it would seem that he has not forgotten about us. Here are some images to ensure that you also do not forget about him:
If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be AYOBA as a motherfucker by spending my entire R15 top-up on 47439 sms’s for Amro Gabriels to win the next Mr South Africa. Mr South Africa, god, what a joke. I’ve seen primary school productions of Jack and the Beanstalk with bigger budgets that this shit show and I would MUCH rather climb the stalk in the school production than that of the Mr SA contestants (read: Andrew Govender, BARF). However, Amro Gabriels is making my heart yearn for Cape Town by serving piping hot coloured REALNESS. Don’t be fooled though, this hunk of caramel goodness is actually from Durban, just like the hourglass-figured title holder, Andrew Govender, who he hopes to dethrone for the Mr SA 2013 title.
Amro’s achievements include academic accomplishments as well as sporting awards. He is currently enrolled in an accounting degree course and works for the family business, which is the import, export and distribution of jewelery. Amro also likes modelling (OBVEE), traveling, networking, socialising and keeping up to date on current world affairs. Amro gets the official SIESA NYAMA stamp of approval and we hope he wins this shit! Hopefully he can use the prize money to get better portfolio pics than these ones which a) he stole from the runway photographer, or b) where he is wearing undies that look about 10 years old, and c) looks like the last pic he has saved on his phone after he sexted it to some trick he met during his travels:
Spieëltjie spieëltjie sê vir my
hoe sien die ander mense my
Mirror mirror tell me
how do other people see me
I will tell you how the other people see you Bobby: They look at you with eyes filled with primal lust which causes a rush of blood to be sent to a confused organ which doesn’t know which hole to enter first. Too much? Well, no one has ever accused me of being subtle or tactful.
This week’s Knopkierie is hosted by the Rainbow Nation’s answer to everyone’s favourite singing basketball player Zac Efron. Like Mr Efron, Bobby van Jaarsveld is a triple threat: He can sing, act and make our pussies do the cha cha. I should also mention that the picture of Bobby, above, unfortunately covers up half of his body which is a shame since EVERY INCH of his twinkelicious physique is as toned as a Marvel superhero. I can personally confirm this after seeing him get out of his Land Rover at the Highveld Spar wearing a pair of shortshorts. Unfortunately for all you shit-stabbers out there, drooling over his pictures, Jesus has a firm grip on his wheel so stop it – just STOP IT.
After racking up various music awards including Sama-, Tempo-, Vonk- and MK Awards, he also made his film debut in the smash hit (read: OMG smash my fucking face in) Afrikaans drama, Liefling. As always, however, I don’t care if he is in a music video or a movie, as long as I can keep on seeing his prepubescent hunkiness smeared across my computer screen, I’m good (a bit too pedo?). Now go get yourself some wine and partake of this BODY:
Ladies and ladyboys! I give you the international rugby community’s biggest whore: Daniel aDONGo (side note: I have no fucking idea who exactly is in the international “rugby community”). Before you all speed dial Legal Aid, extension: the libel division, let me explain! Daniel is no ordinary whore, he is a professional whore, and by professional whore I don’t mean his pimp is registered with SARS, I mean he’s played for almost every rugby team there is to play for.
This double-thick slab of dark chocolate is from Kenya, but was spotted by South African rugby scouts in 2006 and after attending the Natal Sharks Academy, he joined the Sharks XV squad for the 2010 Vodacom Cup (once again, I have typed all these words in what I think it the correct order, but fuck knows what they all mean). In 2011 he was signed by the club boasting South Africa’s most elegant and sophisticated supporters, the Blue Bulls, but was quickly dropped from their squad like a bull turd in 2012 after just one season. He is currently an American football player for the Indianapolis Colts. I could blithely say that Rugby Union and American football are the kissing cousins of sport codes with funny shaped balls, but not even I am that brave or reckless. Quite frankly I don’t give a blue ball what team he plays for, as long as I can see shirtless pictures of him training wherever in the world he is, I’m good. Here are more of said pictures:
Ladies, (and many gentlemen, I am certain) do not be alarmed if both your face and your pussy just started weeping simultaneously. This is a normal reaction and I am experiencing the same thing as I type this and behold the magnificence of today’s Knopkierie (good thing I’m sitting on a plastic garden chair). Pictured above is the current Hooker (hooker? coincidence? I think NOT!) for the Natal Sharks Rugby Aquarium. He is 28 years old, 1,84m tall and weighs…heavily on my fuck parts. Not only is he a provincial star athlete, but he is also quite the philanthropist: witness him stripping down to nothing but his birthday suit for Marie Claire‘s Naked Issue in March this year. This issue is apparently intended to create awareness around organ donation or some charity shit. I don’t even care what the reason is, but Marie Claire should get a Pendoring, a Pulitzer AND a fucking Nobel prize for convincing this magnificent mountain of muscle to show us his perky bubble butt! Below are some more pictures of the reason your couch upholstery is ruined now, but before you look at them, go grab an Energade to avoid dehydration! (side note: chest hair on or off?)