Run No. 985

Date: 3 August 2001

Where: Changi Sailing Club

Occasion: Singapore National Day Run (T-Shirts! – Thanks Hares!—Q)

Hares: Boo, Quickie, Strapless and Squire

Members: TBA

Guests: 18

Visitors: 4

Virgins: 4

It seemed like only a week since we’d made the long haul to Changi – as indeed it was. This time the hares had laid on a nasty little traffic jam and an early start as it was a bus run just to get the adrenalin coursing before the off – lots of lost souls sprinting for the bus at the last minute. Then the traffic jams were still in evidence so it took us 30 minutes to get to Pasir Ris for the start of the run. A fairly entertaining journey though, watching Coo Chi Coo trying to get in every girl’s knickers on the way. No shame, that man. Anyway, when we finally started from Pasir Ris Park, dark was falling with a resounding thud – and every one – even Diskless who lives down the road - had trouble short cutting this one. There was a long stretch through the park, a difficult loop around the sand hill, a fiendish check in the jungle – and a tastefully arranged bee hive just to make sure that Careless and Diskless – the hornet allergic ones – looked worried. I could have done without the last 3 miles down Loyang Avenue but hey – that’s the only way back after all – and a lot of my road time was enlivened by Ripper’s grisly stories about pig and sheep slaughtering in Christmas Island and New Guinea. You never know what new information – most of which you really don’t want – you’re going to pick up on the hash.

The circle was held next to the Sailing Club – with a few wimps reluctant to leave the confines of the awning. Indianus was a lone figure in the absence of Frontarse – and having a bit of a panic attack before the circle, running round like a headless chicken looking for Mystery Whips, the cards, her glasses - (Ooh, she won’t like that – Ed.) Hey, we’re all allowed our little vanities. Anyway, she called in the cosmopolitan National Day hares, and despite some loud calls for hash shit – Stash was extremely vocal here – gave it a good run status.  Boo announced an on-site Mr. Ho on-on with seating kindly provided by the Club. Next week’s run was announced by Careless – he and Warlike Talkie are departing to Dubai shortly. They are some of our most regular run setters and will be much missed. The run’s at Upper Peirce Reservoir outside the park gate.

And all the while the gallant Zipp was continuing with her self-appointed old-economy style task of taking down the names of members in the absence of the cards. Old committee members never lose the thirst for work, do they?

Ripper made a rare appearance in the circle as a sort of stand–in for Frontarse. “I’ve been practising my Australian accent – how is it?” he asked. Not bad for a beginner, Rip. He called in the virgins - Audrey, Adrian, Tom and Ingrid. We had a few visitors from the Sunday and Wednesday chapters, Any Mare (the Spellcheck, honest!), Hungry Bum (what about Steptoe, I ask myself) and Elephant Man. But in the confusion before the circle, some visitors were not on the list because they hadn’t paid. So this chap all the way from New York was welcomed by being placed on the ice, having $50 extorted from him –“Is that enough?” asked the innocent – and then told he had to sponsor a barrel of beer for the 1000^th run. Try and collect that one, Indy.

Then there was the Hare Whip. Boo noted that the only person allowed to sit in the circle is the circle scribe. (Now everyone knows why you did it again. – Ed.) And I thought my secret was safe with you. The other sitters were reminded that the only other permitted place to sit is on the ice, so Lacy Lady, Any More and Hungry Bum had to fight it out between them. Lacy Lady made the tactical error of throwing her beer away and a delighted Beta Bitch sat her on the ice again.

Then Boo drew attention to people wearing Independence Day tee shirts on a National Day run. Ditch had a sort of excuse – after all, he is a Septic – but Max really should have known better. Ditch also showed that he is lacking in the short-term memory department by throwing his beer away. Duh! On the ice.

The extremely lately informed Mystery Whips both did excellent work at 5 minutes notice. Ever-randy – sorry – ready Coo Chi Coo called in the “dipshit” who ran 200 metres past the bus looking for paper. Well, Corny Linguist had obviously had a hard day at the orifice. Big Hammer interrupted CCC’s flow by noting that the icees had been thoughtfully given cardboard insulation. Not on, he expostulated, even though poor Lacy Lady was looking pretty uncomfortable by now. So the insulation was removed and Coo Chi Coo had an instant second charge for the “dipshit” that interrupted him. Then he got Diskless for showing off on the run by actually finding a short cut despite his protestations that he couldn’t. (He got pretty confused at the sand hill check though! – Ed.) Shhh – I promised I wouldn’t say anything about that. – His final charge was about Boo’s problems with English. His tee shirts always read BMC Insurance Agencies - where are the branches in Taipei, Manila, Los Angeles, CCC wanted to know. In fact, Boo is guilty of using an erroneous plural.

A decidedly blue Lacy Lady and a slightly less blue Ditch were finally allowed off the ice and the bravely-filling-the–breach-at-the-last-moment Steptoe came in as the Mystery Mystery. He had an apposite hornet story. Apparently a crazed hornet had bounced harmlessly off Careless’s head and then dementedly lurched towards Steptoe, who was stung. Steptoe was quite sure that the poor stunned bee was actually looking for Dickless. He called the allergic one in for a down down protesting that he, Steptoe, looked nothing like Diskless. “No – far too ugly!” quoth the ungallant Dickless, ignoring the fact that Steptoe had virtually taken a bullet for him.

Steptoe called on poor put-upon Lacy Lady and became thoroughly ungallant himself as he said there was no need to sit her on the ice as “ice grows there naturally.” But this was just an intro to his charge against CCC who had spent all the bus ride trying to get up close and personal to a woman – any woman – and ended up covered with various bits of three nubile young things. (It’s only ‘cos they’re sorry for him. – Ed.) I know – we mustn’t mock the afflicted after all.

He had noticed Big Hammer trying to give Slocum some advice about some injury he had on the run. BH had tried to get Slocum to scrub his knee to the bone to avoid poison ivy infection but Slocum was too worldly wise for that one. BH given a failure’s down-down.

He finally called in Poser for not wearing a hash tee shirt – well, maybe it was the new design, he said. Poser proved to be a recalcitrant and refused to go on the ice or even to sit on her husband, which has become the – I think wrongly – allowable get-out for girlies who don’t want to get their clothes wet. Astronut took the punishment for her anyway and did an entertaining strip with trousers that – for some extremely peculiar reason – have zips at the sides. (Does that say something – er – revealing about his anatomy? - Ed.) Quite honestly, I don’t want to know.

I didn’t have much material left for the Prick of the Week so I just gave it to Indianus for mislaying thing like Whips and cards – anyway, she seems to collect them, although she cast an experienced eye over this model and decided that the velcro looked a bit sinister.

Coo Chi Coo was iced for nattering – he protested loudly, saying that he was only referring with amazement to Astronut's bewildering trousers. “How far do you have to travel round the worlds to get trousers like that?” he asked in genuine astonishment. Zipp suggested that Astro need them because “he does it sideways.” Etc, etc, etc.

Indianus wanted to welcome in all the new barrel contributors. Barrels were pledged by So Cunt Chong and Boo, and halves from Kiasu Lun, Ditch, Max, Max’s boss Thomas – and perennial visitor Fluter. Please let me know if I’ve missed anyone.

Frontarse and Quicksand now swanned in from Koh Samui – no, they hadn’t taken the cards for a holiday – they had just arrived back late ‘cos of a plane delay. Still, never let the truth get in the way of a good story, I say – and Mother Mary – obviously agreeing, called in Frontarse to sit on the ice for absconding with our records. He sportingly dropped shorts and undies, but my normally privileged view was blocked by the table - so no marks out of ten from me, I’m afraid.

More AOB. Delegator had been pushed into the pool by Titmouse – who had wisely gone home – so she picked on the next best thing – her husband. Poor old Dogshit was punished just because he didn’t defend his wife’s honour and give Titmouse a good thrashing.

And Corny Linguist dragged in Steptoe for lying in the hornet story. It didn’t sting him the first time round as it actually was looking for Dickless – so a suddenly envious Steptoe knocked it back against his own head. (A likely story! – Ed.) Look - the fact I made any sense at all about anything that CL said is a bonus, so don’t push it.

Then it was time for Mr. Ho’s barbecue and oodles of cheesy potatoes, and drinks kindly provided by the hares. Various triple ons occurred at the Europa and Muddy Murphy’s with people showing scant thought for the Quadripartite on Saturday. And Indianus was only an hour late for her meeting the next morning. I have my spies, Indy, I have my spies……

On on

Black Widow

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