Run No. 1005

Date:               14 December 2001

Where:             Ponggol Marina

Occasion:        Monsoon

Hares:               Mini Humper and Suzee Wong

Members:         41

Guests:             13       

- Returnees :        2         

- Visitors :            2         

- Virgins :             1

The circle was a bit of a disaster this week - so this won’t take long. Although the hares tried all sorts of shenanigans to avoid the looming monsoon, `twas not to be denied. Firstly we all hung around the car park in the rain. Then the beer wagon moved into the marina area and we all trailed after it. Then the rain stopped and it came out again and went round the outer car park a bit more with people trailing it as if it was the Pied Piper and we were the rats. Get the picture? The nomadic circle finally settled down and got started. Frontarse called the hares in as the rain dripped down. “What did you think of tonight’s run?” he asked, as per usual. But he got no further as a whirling tornado of mascara, blond hair, mini black sarong and raucous ack-ack-ack laugh came barrelling in. “Get out of my circle!” the vision cried. People reeled! They gasped! They gaped! The resemblance was uncanny. Yes, it was a combination of Coo Chi Coo shy and retiring presence and Black Widow’s wardrobe and make up that caused this remarkable transformation. (Hope you didn’t lend him a g-string. – Ed.) No, I drew the line there. But he had my bra, which wouldn’t go round so was just tucked under his tee shirt and kept slipping down, providing plenty of  “Indy, your boobs are slipping!” type comments, That was after five minutes of sustained ack-ack-ackery as CCC/Indy sashayed round the circle. Revelling in it, he called in the hares for their down downs. All thought it was a good run through an interesting area that held lots of memories for the serious old farts who attended runs from Joe Cashin's house. Indy/CCC then called for next week’s hares who weren’t there. Anyway, it’s the Xmas run and it’s at Labrador Park, courtesy of Running Shit.

Indy/CCC now called in virgin Barry, and visitors Dwayne from Diri and Virginia Slim from Sydney. Barry and Dwayne were trying to creep away in horror at this stage but Virginia Slim’s from Sydney, so it all looked quite normal to him

“Now I’m going to do something unusual” quoth CCC/Indy. “I’m going to put Boo on the ice.” Boo protested but, as usual, to no avail.

Still it kept him quite for enough time for our resident drag queen to welcome back some returnees – Captain Red Arrow and Dead Poet.

Frontarse managed to muscle back in for long enough to present a major tee shirt award. In one of those typical coincidences it was for Coo Chi Coo’s whopping 750 runs. Frontarse wanted a woman to help him on with his shirt in traditional fashion but seeing the way he was dressed offers were not forthcoming in case our sexual orientation looked suspect. In the end the noble Desperation strode in and wrested him into the garment. It’s now got lipstick stains on it, ducky.

Well things were going on quite merrily and it was now time for the Mystery Whip. And the rain. BA carried on heroically as people sprinted off for umbrellas. BA’s first charge was against Foo Foo. The hares had provided some checks with only two arrows for possible directions. Foo Foo was seen staring at on of these scratching his head. Then he had a brilliant idea. “I’ll bet it either that way or that way!” he cried with appropriate pointing gestures as light slowly dawned. Duh!

BA had also noticed the suicidal Velcro Twins who took the silly route across the TPE instead of walking a bit further on to the drain.

And his final charge was to the radiant CCC for trying to be helpful in a drainage culvert and putting the toilet paper in a more obvious place. Except, declared BA, the culvert had another guise as an open-air sewer, and the toilet paper wasn’t hash toilet paper, if you see what I mean.

By this stage it was bucketing it down in full monsoon fury and although there was a long way left to go it was one of those rare times when it was impossible to continue – although those of us under umbrellas would have been quite happy to see BA getting drenched for quite a bit longer. Frontarse declared the circle a washout and everyone scattered in disarray, some towards the marina and some towards the shelter of the beer wagon and the proximity of the free beer until on on time. Who says the Dunkirk spirit is dead? There must have been about twenty of us packed under there, dripping and wet through, but as long as the Tiger kept coming we kept our chins up.

And finally we all sloshed though the now flooded car park to the on on which provided excellent food in a rather more up-market venue than we are used to. Well, done hares.

On On!

Black Widow

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