From Justinian July 1992
I’d be remiss if I failed to mention the importance of male bonding.
In a world where life is too highly refined, too comfortable, where blokes have become overly soft and spongy, it’s pleasing to record that some are doing something to stop the rot.
Take, for instance, the property and development division of Corrs in Sydney – a more delicate group of little Lord Fauntleroys you’d never find.
To their credit eight of them decided that they should take themselves down to Helensburgh in the Royal National Park, south of Sydney, and sign-up for a game of Skirmish.
For the uninitiated Skirmish is a war game, where fellas go off together into the scrub, climb into camouflage clobber and fight each other.
For $40 you can buy a day’s worth of ammo, about 200 bullets, which are little pellets of paint fired at the enemy from a gun with the idea of doing some decent, honest “killing”.
You can imaging the surprise when the Corrs types found themselves up against some rather beefy Westies – chaps of a heavily tattooed nature, with heart warming little insignia on their jungle greens saying “Face Me, Face Death”.
Indeed a couple of weeks before Corrs arrived one of the Skirmish teams was made up of a group of people who once we would have called Yugoslavs.
I’m told that they managed to use a day’s worth of ammo in an hour.
But, it appears that the Corrs’ team did frightfully well, despite the fact that Sydney managing partner Ron Finlay, as he was coming out of a trench with every expectation of winning a VC, was dealt a nasty blow on his impeccably smooth chops.
Blood and flesh went everywhere, and it was all he could do to stop some of his solicitors having a little vomit.
Anyway, Ron ended the day with a richly deserved Purple Heart, and as he and the team drove back home they felt tired, but proud, and infinitely better equipped to deal with the cruel environment of Corrs Chambers Westgarth.