I live in a small town and an island off the coast in New Zealand.

I don't think anybody except our towns people know it exists.

Yeah.

New Zealand.

The place our brother country Austria says is full of sheepfuckers.

The place America thinks is Australia and the place that the world thinks is next to

Atlantis and opposite Narnia.

All that nonsense of course.

There's a fact that we do actually have sheepfuckers.

Not like sheepfuckers as in sheep shaggers.

I'm talking about sheepfuckers as in sheep looking, sheep looking fucker.

But I'll cut the exploitives out from now on because what I'm about to divulge is a serious

life or death situation involving Maurice, the curly man sheep that ate my friend's arm.

More importantly, I'll cut the language because the Aussies started the swearing business

first for the record and we're better than that.

I currently reside in a harbour town in the south island home to fewer than a thousand people

and I spend most of my life here.

All town that you have to reach by taking the highway from the central city through a

dingy tunnel in a mountain.

Once you're out the other side, the fresh air that rolls off the bay is breathtaking.

Most of the houses here face the small bay in the middle.

The buildings sit staggered and height from the mountainous ranges down to the seagull squalking

...