The topics in this review
How did it all start? Tommy Brandner remembers.
Lucky me. In '83 I did "Tommy's Surf Radio Show" on the Garda 3 radio station in Riva. A stroke of luck for a surf addict. Full-throttle rock every day from 10am to 2pm, then out on the water at Europark. During that time, I learnt a lot from Sigi Hofmann, Lui Holzinger and other top surfers. In the evenings, I regularly went to Walter's bar "Cutty Sark" in Torbole. This was the meeting place for all the people who were out on the lake during the day. Beginners, pros, show-offs, DIN surfers, equipment fetishists - nobody was really normal there.
After a few weeks, I started writing down everything I picked up: Conversations, monologues, stories. Over the course of the year, this resulted in a multifaceted manuscript, which I took to surf in November. Uli Stanciu (editor-in-chief at the time) granted me an audience and said: "Yes, quite nice, but we can't publish it like this." Low blow. "No," said Uli, "we'll make a series out of it!" Bam, that was it! So the first stories were published in the magazine as "CUTTY INTIM" and I joined the surf test team. But at some point, Cutty had had enough and something new was needed. Something with a clear structure, that could only be "TOMMYS TOHUWABOHU".
Now Bernhard Förth joined us as an illustrator and it immediately became clear that he was a congenial partner. We had and still have the same sense of humour. No joke can be too flat if it is well realised. Bernhard has the rare ability to get to the heart of his illustrations and make them pop. Chapeau.
Gradually, our collaboration resulted in surf series such as "TOMMYS TOLLE TYPEN", "TOMMYS LETZTE WORTE", "DIE SCHREDDERS", "TOMMYS TALKSHOW", "TOMMYS WIPE-OUT", "PORTER RIGGS" and "TOMMYS GEHT'S NOCH?". Also series for Kite Magazine and the "ROCKY RITZEL SCHOTTER SHOW" for Bike. Protagonists like Porter Riggs, the Schröder-Wellentals, Bruno Brettschädel and Harry Zapf were the blueprints of all the windsurfers we got to know over the years and whose quirks and misadventures we processed. You can't imagine how we still laugh our heads off every time we discuss a new illustration after all these years.
Why are we still doing all this? In principle, it's just like windsurfing. Why do I go out when it's five degrees? Why do I wait for hours for the wind, why do I drive 2,000 kilometres to the spot? Exactly, because it's fun. That's the only way.
Hang somewhere, but definitely loose!
Tommy's surf test
The test, the big hit in surf since the beginning. What's new, what works - and if so, how? Which brand is in, who is the test winner? Questions upon questions. As a former member and writer for the surf test team, I've experienced a lot and have heard nonsense and speculation about the test from all directions: Bribery, spying, plagiarism, bought testers, all bogus, paid surfing holidays and so on and so forth. Of course, that's exactly what happened. And so that all surf readers can finally find out first-hand what really happened in the test, we sat down together and put our experiences on paper under notarised supervision. Bernhard then realised the whole thing so brilliantly in drawings that even the last conspiracy theorist is panting: "Man, I'd like to be there too ..."
Tommy's last words
In 2002, surf needed a bouncer that would give the reader a bit of fun at the end of the magazine. Bernhard and I created the "Last Words". Most of the time, we would pick out something current and poke fun at it. Windsurfing pros and top writing colleagues were also put in the shaving chair. Politically incorrect, free lies, funny.
Tommy's hullabaloo
Dear TOHU readers, in my capacity as area reporter, I was on the super surfing island for you - on Dings - what was it called again? It was a very short name, three letters - but never mind. I landed directly in - ah - Dings - never mind. From there I took the bus to the surf hotel called - ah Dings - never mind. There I got a marvellous suite, or was it just a room? It doesn't matter. Just huge! Just like the beach. Totally super sandy, or was it the stones? - It doesn't matter. In any case. Sideshore wind from the right - or from the left? I can't remember exactly - but it doesn't matter. So I go straight to the surf school of this thing, what's his name - it doesn't matter, and get a 270 Dings, ah - it doesn't matter - great board by the way! And as I'm about to set off, this World Cup pro comes along, the Dings - well, the ah - never mind, and says to me, I was laughing so hard, he says, Dings, he says, my God, now I can't get out of it - but never mind. Anyway, he took me to the hyperwave spot, to - ah Dings, well, what was it called again? But never mind! So just galactic, this Hawaiian or Spaniard is also training there, this, this Dings, well you know, the Dings and - ah - oh yes, exactly. Krk was the name of the island.
Tommy's Wipe Out
My father has Fanatic, but I don't have Egypt!
New series, new actors: "Blondie", a bubbling fountain of wisdom in times of blonde jokes. The nameless "Hey Guys" recounted his experiences from 564 years of surfing. In addition, a cartoon with lots of little details, devised by the master Bernhard Förth, and a few sayings for the next conversation on the beach. A well-rounded thing that has brought us a few more laugh lines every month.
A Rambo comes into my travel agency yesterday and asks:
"I'd like to go on an awesome adventure surfing trip. Do you have anything?"
"Sure, for example Lake Nicaragua, it's teeming with bull sharks, huaaa!"
"Kids' stuff!"
"Or Moolokai, also very exciting, that used to be Leprastation and is still supposed to be..."
"I've been immune since Rambo II!"
"Well then, maybe Naples, rubbish slalom in the harbour during a mafia barrage?"
"No risk! My muscles are bulletproof!"
"And smuggling coke from Colombia to Florida on a surfboard?"
"Sissy trip! I need adrenaline, testosterone, in high doses!"
"Then there's only one thing left, ultra-hard, odds of success 1:917: Faaker See, Austria!"
"Wow!"
"And here it comes, the total risk kick: self-drive without a motorway sticker!"
"Brutal, I'll take that!"
The "Minister of Wind" answers travel FAQs:
Q1: "Are there sharks in Egyptian sports?"
A1: No. Where there are crocodiles, there are no sharks.
Q2: "Is surfing on Loch Ness dangerous?"
A2: No. Just the food.
Q3: "Are there crocodiles at Egyptian spots?"
A3: Nonsense. Where there are sharks, there are no crocodiles.
Tommy's great guys
... that's the name of our series now and we're focussing even more on the individual windsurfer and their quirks. Sometimes all I had to do was listen carefully and take notes when someone unpacked their Italian skills in the catering trade, or try a few experiments on my own to develop the finger skateboard into a finger surfboard. So it was only a logical step to the finger surfboard world cup in the bathroom, wasn't it?
Tommy's shredders
A terribly nice family, these Schredders. From 2005, Heinz, Doris, the children Anne and Tassilo as well as grandad Hubertus and grandma Lisbeth made sure that every surfer family, no matter how crazy, thought they were completely normal - compared to the Schredders. The surfing equivalent of the "Flodders", so to speak.
The Schredders: A suicide mission
"Well, family," Heinz asked at breakfast, "where are we going to surf these Ascension days? After your last act, we can't be seen at Lake Garda for the next ten years. Besides, it's too expensive. How about our quarry pond?" Tassilo choked up a piece of croissant in shock - right in the middle of the jam. "There's never any wind and the youngest guys there have already been retired for ten years!" Grandma Lisbeth remarked quietly, "but with this loser and his ridiculous bank job, it'll probably stay with the quarry pond." Grandad suddenly woke up from his stupor completely unexpectedly and said: "I know something better!" "Oh no!" said Heinz. "How many years do you get for that?" "Nonsense, when money's tight, you have to plan like a mastermind. We're going to the surf festival in Fehmarn. Everything is free there, boards, sails..." "Drinks..." Lisbeth interjected.
"Breast augmentations too?" asked Doris and Tassilo cheered: "That's a great idea, Grandpa. The latest material, action, the stars of the scene..." "And we'll be right in the middle of it all, if that goes well," Heinz remarked. "We'll take my old war buddy Wiegald's camper for the journey, he still owes me from '44. And he's got a monthly bill at the petrol station, so we'll fill it up at his expense first!" The family was delighted. The Himmelfahrt commando operation at Wulfener Hals got rolling.
200 metres after the petrol station, nothing rolled. Wiegald's camper sneered and stopped. "You've got a full tank of petrol, haven't you, Grandpa?" asked Tass. "Yes, full to the brim with petrol, the vehicle!" "Petrol?!?" roared Heinz, "it's a diesel! That's it for free surfing then." "Then plan B comes into play," ordered Hubertus, "there are three army tents in the back, we'll take them and hitch a ride!" They quickly unpacked and Doris was ordered to the side of the road in her underwear. The little girl had barely put her thumb up and her chest out when three cars crashed into each other. "Mount up!" shouted Grandad, the family jumped out of their hiding place and spread out over the battered crates.
18 hours and seven changes later, the Schredders reached Fehmarn. "Set up camp, bang, bang!" ordered Grandad. Anne was startled: "What, here, in the middle of nowhere? Wild?" "Sure, it doesn't cost anything! Anne, Heinz and Lisbeth set up the tents. The rest - follow me to explore the beach," croaked Hubertus.
The three of them came back late at night. Granddad with a pretty heavy bump, Tass with a tonne of brochures and Doris with a Swede. Grandad slurred his words briefly: "Report: beach party company - burp - complete success!" Then they crawled into the tents.
The next day, it was full steam ahead. Doris zoomed into the party tent, Anne got on a freerider, Lisbeth cleaned the tents, Tassilo banged towards Kiel on an F2 Eliminator and Heinz got stuck at the Kreissparkasse stand. Grandad talked the two Charchullas silly until they gave him a 30-year-old blow-up from their windsurfing museum and then kept the sea rescue service busy for hours.
In the meantime, there were riots on the speed course. Hundreds of surfers waited in vain for their start. Someone had got their bum stuck in the silt while practising their water start on the strip - Anne! Tassilo had meanwhile switched to a Tiga and thundered southwards. There was also something going on behind the stage. Backstage, a band had started their private wet T-shirt contest, in which Doris was performing for the eleventh time and still didn't realise that she was the only participant. The boys might have had fun.
Heinz was also delighted. He had just talked a certain Dunkerbeck into a share in a ship and managed to persuade Brian Talma to take out dental insurance. While Tassilo was putting the spurs to an RRD, Grandpa told the NDR television team that he had invented windsurfing back in 1944. "On the way to the patent office, those damn Russians took me prisoner." But he had invented it.
A few metres further on, Doris was squeezing herself into a wetsuit that was four sizes too small in front of 500 spectators. The guys on the stand had promised her a colonic irrigation if she burst the top of the thing.
Applause at the speedstrip! The silt had released Anne's arse, whereupon around 700 surfers thundered onto the course at the same time for what was probably the biggest crash of all time. Staff from all the stands now rushed into the water to make sure the equipment was intact. Hordes of beach pirates took advantage of this and emptied the deserted stands. Festival paramedics tended to the injured and four rescue cruisers came to the rescue of those who had broken their boards and were lying aground.
Then Doris' Neo detonated. Pursued by greedy crowds, she fled into the party tent, which collapsed under the onslaught, taking the stage and six sausage stalls with it. People with boards and rigs were running around. The TV crew was looking for the cameraman, who was looking for the camera, one Charchulla was looking for another and Grandma Lisbeth was looking for Grandpa Hubertus. He just landed with the SAR helicopter in the middle of the confusion, sending 50 manufacturer tents whirling through the air like Schmitt's cat. It was fair to say that the chaos was now perfect thanks to the efforts of the Schredders.
And before the whole mob descended on his family, Heinz gathered his relatives together. He simply hung Grandpa up on the savings bank counter with the rope of the canal fitting. With Grandma's help, he pulled Doris out naked among two dozen freestylers. He almost didn't find Anne because she had glued on a beard to escape from the beach unrecognised. Tassilo was still missing - no, he was already punching his way through the crowd. "Tass!" shouted Heinz, "over here, quick. Where have you been all this time?" "I've been surfing to the mainland with every board!" "Why?" "To top up our coffers!" "What?" "Well, I sold the boards. They're test boards. They've been written off anyway." "Are you crazy?" Heinz shouted. "They'll get you! They've got your ID!" "Nah, I took Doris's." "Then it's Doris' turn!" "Nope!" "Why not?" "Because her ID card expired a long time ago!"
Tommy's Porter Riggs
In 2008, it was time for a change of identity. As Porter Riggs, I moved to Koahai, a tiny, absolutely shark-free island in Bavarian Polynesia, and stayed there until 2014. Bernhard visited me every month and so we were back on the surf beach together, taking care of our favourite sport and its fun side.
The thing from the cellar
My name is Riggs, Porter Riggs. I'm a guy who thinks about things. Thoughts about things that others probably don't give a damn about. Why? I don't know. It just happens. When I'm walking, eating or in the shower.
Then I turn off the water and my thoughts take flight: "Sure, if our neighbour hadn't flown to Maui, nobody would have broken into his house. On the other hand, no one would have been able to steal his board in Paia either." I think things like that. "Hmm, but actually it kind of serves that scumbag right."
I came across something strange the other day when I was clearing out the cellar. A flat, white something. Weighing maybe two kilos, estimated to be 80 cm long, 20 cm wide, 1.5 cm thick and, as I said, white. No. Yellowish, yellowed. More like it used to be white. There was a kind of knob on top and the front edge was thicker than the back edge. "I wonder what that could be? A streamlined ski pole? A designer spade or a cake server from the 60s?"
None of that. It was a sword! A folding sword even! "My God, a sword!" I thought. "How long must it have been since I rode a board with a sword? 100 years? Longer than that? At least as a beginner. Back then, if you rode a board with a centreboard, you could hang a sign round your neck that said >Not a skier<." On the way to the beach, I often bashfully tried to hide the centreboard in my swimming trunks, which promptly earned me the title of 'stupid noob'.
Who brought this embarrassment on me and others? "Who invented it? The Finns? The Swiss? Or has it just always been there?" I have no idea. In any case, after a good ten years it was suddenly gone. The new boards only had fins, were lighter, shorter, faster, no longer luffed and were just fun. For decades.
But: Now the sword strikes back! No more fun. New, long raceboards are coming and they have folding blades again. "Where have the folding parts been for so long?" Well, mine was in the cellar, but the folding centreboard in general? "Just folded away somewhere or what?" No. They were in the drawers of the marketing people until the time was ripe for something new and old. Everything always comes back somehow. In a different form. Like yesterday's food.
It certainly won't be that bad, because the new sword is completely different. Very sophisticated. The manufacturers describe its revolutionary new features for the astonished surfing community in a few clear, yet equally emphatic words: unfolded for little wind, folded for lots of wind. Respect!
What puzzles me is the phrase "Folded out for light wind, folded in for strong wind. That means that when I unfold the centreboard, the wind is weak and when I fold it in, it chops! So the centreboard directly influences the wind!" Now that's what I call a sensational development! I can already imagine what it will be like on the water at the weekend. As soon as 50 beginners have folded out into a light wind, the neighbour's scumbag collapses to six Beaufort and the 50 beginners lie flat. If Mr Testosterone is then over-hyped and heating up, the beginners strike back. Fold!
"If this scenario plays out like this everywhere, then the folding in and out will ultimately also affect the global climate! The polar ice caps are melting! Sea levels will rise dramatically! Hawaii sinks! The Canary Islands, Cape Verde, Fehmarn and Lüdenscheid, all gone! Or even worse, everything is sinking - except Lüdenscheid!"
That's all right. I don't want to come across as a professional doubter. But if the folding sword can cause such a disaster, it does make me wonder." I wonder if it makes any sense to put my sword back in the cellar. If I can stop climate change just a little, or at least that scumbag of a neighbour, then it will have been worth it."
But now it's time to find the key to the cellar door again, otherwise I'll end up like my sword. "You should think about that..."
Porter Riggs
Tommy's still going?
"Still going?" A series in which anything goes. Criticising slips in surf as well as politicians who don't know exactly what they're doing to foilers. Or something completely different, such as capricious weather conditions and how to overcome them, what a dog does on the board or why some windsurfers look so fantastic. Questions that move the world. Questions to which there is only one answer: Read and have fun.
Is it still possible? Used is still too expensive
Everything is getting more expensive, except the one-euro stamp. But windsurf boards are not stamps. Raw materials, salaries, transport, distribution, packaging - everything costs more and more, they say. At least the wind is still free. So you have to save money somewhere. The second-hand market offers unimagined opportunities for the clever. And what's different about a new freerider compared to one built in 2021? The colour perhaps, or it's now called Apex pro instead of Apex. So browse through the relevant magazines and online sites for a good deal, and when you go to a local shop, you do the same as when buying a used car: you look for negative things so you can professionally push the price down. "Well, what have we got here?" "Ouuu, 2017, did your grandad surf with it? And that scratch there..." "Yeah, but what's a scratch?" "A scratch? It's something like a line, just scratched into the material." "I know, it just happens."
It's also important to look around to see if there are any other used bikes lying around, so you don't end up with a petty criminal garage dealer. "Hmm, ancient model, and it's not exactly clean either." " yes, but it's always been a great ride, fast, great in the jibe and easy to jump." " what, you jumped it? Then the deck has gone through!" " No, just chop-hop." " Yeah, my arse, and I'm standing in the foam on the first jump! And these foot straps!" "What's wrong with them again?" "The adjustment mechanism, there are better things, my friend." "My God, time flies...." "You could say that." "Why?" "This fin, this box, not even a wingmast attachment! So, tell me, it's extremely old school. Has there been any accident damage repaired? How many previous owners has the sloop had? And what about a test drive for a few days on Lake Garda?" "Before you get any more annoying, no, there's no MOT on it - and there's no free Sportback either. Give me €100, take the board and get out, but shut up already!" Mission complete, super board for a Honi. That's how you do it.
More speed through higher speed
You can recognise a dynamic sport by the fact that new developments are already outdated when they come onto the market. That's why it's always an advantage to find out about new old material and really new material. Otherwise you soon won't know whether the new board is really new or old, the old one really old or new or what it is, or something like that.
Saying for eternity
"More speed through higher speed" - oh man, I should have had that saying protected. It comes from a very early Cutty Sark story and was actually written by ME. Back then, speed was a hot topic for a while and some self-appointed specialists knew more than anything about it. It was a great opportunity for me to take the piss out of these guys. I think almost every surfer knows the saying "More speed through higher speed" and if you stick to this secret recipe, you will immediately become faster. Fersporchen.
Two books - almost a trilogy
Why all the madness?
An attempt at an explanation by Bernhard Förth.
Well, there must be a good reason why you struggle out of bed in the morning and get upright. For me, it's always been art, ever since I was able to hold a pencil. As a result, I was born with the ability to constantly view my environment from a cynical distance. There was no other way. A gift.
And I already had the basics together to walk through life as a cartoonist and humourist. This was fuelled to the max when Tommy Brandner came into my life. That was, you wouldn't believe it, almost 40 years ago. Really good humour is rather rare, especially when it comes to satire. So meeting Tommy was a win-win situation. To this day, we still have a lot of fun when we're on the road again, trying to get to the heart of the topic we're working on in the best possible way. Basically, I would have to pay entertainment tax as well as income tax. Over the course of our collaboration, Tommy has become a wonderful and enriching friend.
As a result of many very favourable coincidences and constellations, I started earning my living as an illustrator more than 35 years ago. I never studied officially. I preferred to start earning money straight away. As an autodidact. Looking back, I have to say it was a wonderful time. I worked in advertising, in the children's, youth and school book sector and in industry. And satire, of course. Earning money with something that's fun and, on top of that, getting to know mainly good people - it doesn't get any better than that!
As I said, I have never officially studied. I study every day and will continue to do so until my last breath. If you want, there are a thousand teachers. You just have to keep your eyes and ears open and stay reasonably sane. The joy of creating keeps the mind young, only the body gets old. I still have a lot of plans; in addition to satire and cartoons, painting is becoming more and more important. I've been lucky enough to be able to show my paintings at several exhibitions, and more will follow.
And that's for sure, there are really good reasons for me to drag myself out of bed in the morning - and there are more and more.
Life is beautiful! Always your Bernhard Förth |
More under bernhard-foerth.de
It's been a long journey from the first CUTTY INTIM to GEHT'S NOCH? We've enjoyed it right from the start and still do every month. And anyone who thinks we're running out of topics is seriously mistaken. Because you're already taking care of that. Again and again, wherever you are on the windsurfing board. And we say: Thank you! (Tommy Brandner and Berhard Förth)
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