Run No. 963

Date: Friday 9 March 2001

Where: Arcadia Road

Hares: Indecent Exposure and Armless

Members: 45

Guests: 20

Virgins: 5

Visitors: 2

Returnees: 3

 

 

I thought my luck was in when a complete stranger in a BMW stopped and offered me a quick ride up Arcadia Road, but no, he was just a poor lost new boy who read the back of my tee-shirt and reckoned this was the best way of finding the run site. Oh well.

 

The pack headed off towards the Island Club at a major clip and was treated to a swim over the weir for the first time in ages. Lots of fun seeing various people caught unawares by the deep bit in the middle. And the whimsical “Beware of Crocodiles” sign positioned just after it caused a few raised eyebrows and set a few timid hearts fluttering. Then a long bit in the jungle round the reservoir and a choice of routes home, although the excessively energetic front runners such as Comes Alone, Depositor and Pecker Checker decided to add an extra loop of their own as they missed the in-trail and went haring off up Sime Road in full view of the delighted amblers bringing up the rear. A thoroughly good run in every way, well managed by the hares, with Armless at one stage getting positively menacing at Boo’s attempt to short cut. “Ve haf ways of making you stay on paper, swinehund!” snarled the Kraut, defending his nearby in-trail with commendable vigour. Boo, remembering the invasion of Poland, meekly obeyed.

 

Back at the run site, Astronut had failed to get his priorities right and had remembered to pick up his new car but forgotten the cards yet again. Old-economy-style measures had to be introduced, and this involved getting the members to – gasp! – write down their real names. That caused a bit of a problem as quite a lot of them found this task somewhat beyond their intellectual grasp. Still, if you forgot to take part in this quaint old ritual, see me next week.

 

Astronut gathered the throng and asked for opinions on the run, and, of course, a universal cry of Good Run was loudly voiced. Indecent Exposure and Armless – sporting a peculiar new growth in his chin - did their down-downs and announced an on –site on-on.

 

Next week’s run looks like a bit of a wild one, being a thematic St. Patrick’s Day jaunt. Flakey announced to the eager throng that we have Muddy Murphy’s booked out, Irish food, an Irish band and happy hour prices all night. Phew! I’m already mentally girding my loins. (Where exactly are your loins? – Ed.) Dunno really. It’s one of those phrases I’ve never really understood. Anyway, we’re all supposed to dress in green because of the theme, so there are going to be an awful lot of schizophrenics wearing their Australia Day tee-shirts on the St’ Patrick’s Day run…

 

Alpha Bitch called in a fair number of virgins this week. Sakura, Simon, Dominic, Achim Ruel and John. Visitors welcomed were JP from the Monday hash (ptui!) and the pick-up merchant from the BMW who revels in the name of Numb Nuts.

 

We had a few returnees too (Molester? – Ed.) No, not yet. Foot Rot was there though, and Armless, and, according to No Good’s delightful if occasionally surreal list, someone called Puss in Foot. I think the poor girl really meant Puss in Boots, but – hey! – she was probably under pressure at the time collecting all the dosh.

 

And we welcomed a new member – Amy – who happens to be Mrs. Strapless. No doubt she’ll get a name of her own soon.

 

The Hare Whip was Armless, who decided he was going to make a joke of his apology for a goatee before everybody else did. He’s a perverse one, that Armless. Most people, when they get to a certain – ahem – age tend to shave off all that pepper-and-salty facial stuff on the grounds that it makes them look younger to go clean shaven. (And that’s just the women – Ed.) Oh, very funny. – But Armless, obviously gearing up for a Santa lookalike award later in the year, has gone the other way. Anyway, he was extolling the virtues, whatever they were, of his new look and called in Squire for only having a moustache. Personally, I think it was just envy, ‘cos he knows that if the luxuriantly-moustachioed Squire grew a beard it would come out in equally luxuriant fashion, and also be black.

 

At this stage I must mention Alpha Bitch’s cleavage, as it got more attention on the night than anything else going on in the circle. Crammed into one of Poser’s ex little black tops, the dangerous appendages threatened to pop out of their constraints and clout the unwary at every opportunity. And this meshed in nicely with the next award which was yet another 100-runs tankard for Stiff which I had ordered by mistake. “So now you have a matching pair,” she told the mesmerized Stiff, who couldn’t tear his eyes away from her looming décolletage (Better tell them that’s Frog for cleavage – Ed.) Anyway, this led to predictable “matching pair” remarks from the assembled oiks. Alpha, never one to hide her light under a bushel – I don’t know what that means either – basked in the reflected glory of her knockers.

 

Astronut called in the Mystery Whip, who turned out to be Chastity Belt. He firstly thanked Jack Off for encouraging him on the run by wearing tiny tight shorts. Then he managed to pull his mind out of the gutter for a while to get Shit Fit who managed to find the precise place in the middle of the weir where the water was deepest and fall into it. And then he moved on to his set piece of the evening, which was a beauty contest, in keeping with the recent press debate about whether there should be an intelligence aspect to such competitions. He called out a representative Aussie – Walkie Talkie – a European – Loose Change – and an Asian – Poser. He quoted the relevant bit from the newspapers – about vital statistics being all that mattered and leaving the brains bit to Mensa - and decided that the “vital statistics” in the circle should do a down-down. As Careless remarked to the apparently non-Mensa material girlies, “Which one of you isn’t insulted?”

 

The Mystery Mystery Whip was So Cunt Chong, who had, in fact, only arrived back at the run site at the start of the circle, having got lost in the jungle. His charges were all of a culinary nature. G-String had spent a week in Japan and had wittered on to him about the delights of the food she’s been eating all week – raw squid, raw eel, raw sea slugs etc. She was charged with making him feel sick. He then hauled in Sybil for no other fault than being Indian, as he had had a nasty series of intestinal explosions after the fiercely hot curry at Samy’s a couple of weeks ago. He continued with this rather disagreeable topic by calling in the hares for not warning him it was hot curry again this evening, so not giving him a chance to put his toilet roll in the freezer. Then he drew attention to Ring Pull’s chest yet again, by quoting the story of the castaways in Colombia who had been sustained by a woman’s breast milk. (Ugh! – Ed.) I quite agree, I think we’ll leave that one…

 

Then it was time for Prick of the Week, and Big Hammer proudly showed off the newly- refurbished black beauty. Amazing what you can do with duct tape and too much time on your hands. Anyway, it’s now fettled up and looking good. He wanted to introduce a new ruling that it should only be presented to girls and couples. (Hey – I know quite a few guys who could find a use for it – Ed.) But he felt he had to award it to Ring Pull, as she’s been so frustrated since Free Willy left that she’s even resorted to smoking again, so she’s obviously in need of some sort of extra stimulation.

 

Dickless had forgotten the Pussy and had to suffer for that. But he had a charge against the Interhash Sec – Bogless - gamely doubling up as Hash Brew tonight – for screwing up the dates for the AGM and the 1000th run in the newsletter. So you’re offering to do it next year then, Wickless?

 

AOB – Phoney announced to the delight of all that King Leer is leaving us after what seems like a couple of millennia. He’s not going far, though – only up the road to KL – but at least we’re getting a leaving party out of it. Like Molester, he’ll be back…

 

Ring Pull very properly dragged in Astronut for forgetting the cards again.

 

Faker got Astronut for his golf-obsessive behaviour on the golf course, as he imperiously waved everybody away from the precious manicured greens.

 

And Dickless got Speedy Toots for losing her pearl earring on the run, spending hours searching the jungle floor for it, and being told by Astronut that she had as much chance of finding it as she did of regaining her virginity.

 

Then it was on-on on site, which went on for a lot longer than normal as a few no-homers hung around drinking the beer thoughtfully provided by the hares and watching Poser knock a few golf balls around in random directions. The sound of screeching brakes and crashing vehicles from the nearby expressway only added to the fun.

 

And a final word for all you arthritis sufferers out there. Poor old Spider – my dog - has been getting stiffer and stiffer of late, and in all the wrong places too. Comes Alone kindly gave me a lift to get him fettled up by Pecker Checker who gave me some magic pills for him. And lo and behold, in no time he was – and still is – frolicking around like a young pup. My cronies at the Colbar told me that just a couple of days ago a strange bitch was wandering around the area, and before even a proper exchange of bum-sniffing Spider and she were at it like knives. And he’s 84!

 

Pecker Checker is taking orders now, gentlemen…..

 

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