Run No. 986

Date: 10 August 2001

Where: Upper Peirce Reservoir

Occasion: Careless & Walkie Talkies’ Farewell Run

Hares: Careless & Walkie Talkie

Members:  46

Guests:  17

Visitors:  4

Virgins:  4

Machete man Careless had obviously put in a lot of hard paranging on the second half of this jungle-based run – even his co-hare admitted that she hadn’t actually done it herself. And a lot of wimps backed out of the second half when they heard that a swim was involved – in fact it was no more than a rather deep wade. Anyway, it was a really great run, with excellent back checks and lots of creepers snagging your ankles – a fitting farewell from these indefatigable hares. It’s going to be a lot more difficult to fill the hareline from now on.

Back at the run site, the mysterious Phantom Ice Liberator had been at work and had – well - liberated most of the ice intended for the ice stands. It was gone, anyway. The powers-that-be muttered darkly about insurrection in the ranks, and hurriedly gathered enough ice for one stand, but its solo threat looked rather muted.

Indianus called in the hares and all agreed that it was definitely a Good Run. Careless bellowed that the on-on was at one of the restaurants in Casuarina Road.

Next week’s hares are Beagles and Gypsy at the old Fernleaf Club – now the Civil Defence Club – in Sembawang.

Frontarse took over GM duties to welcome the visitors – no virgins this week – who were Nurse Fucker from Seletar, Sex Change and Charlotte from the Harriets, Any Cock’ll Do from Sunday, Ayam Kampung from Kampung – and Mirko. (So what about Poser’s sister Louise, then? – Ed.) No idea.

A couple of new members were welcomed – Fanny Flasher and Gerald.

Time for a heap of awards. Frontarse got slightly confused among the members of the Bum family, not quite sure for a while if he was calling on Hungry or Ugly. Ugly Bum proved to be the worthy recipient of a 250 runs tee shirt. A willing Stiff – ever eager for a quick flash – leapt into the circle to help her put it on – but wily UB was well prepared, sporting a fetching little black liberty bodice or camisole or something.

Indianus then presented Astronut with his 250 runs shirt. Astronut eagerly awaited the aid of some nubile maiden to help him with the off-off on-on bit – and got – er – Sybil. He visibly recoiled, but manfully stood his ground as Sybil attempted to get in the tee shirt with him. Indianus sportingly joined the fray. After a lot of very suggestive physical activity in the circle, which looked like something out of a very perverted Karma Sutra, Sybil seemed to end up in it alone, at which she looked mightily disgruntled. Astro got the garment back eventually.

And Indianus also presented Bagels with a 300 runs mug with a naked lady handle. “I think I’ll have to hide this from my daughter,” was his later response.

Indianus now called in all the 1000th run beer barrel sponsors. And what a lot there were. Stiff – one barrel; Halfpenny, appropriately – half. Lost and Found – virtually a returnee – was coerced into donating a half. Any Cock’ll Do, who isn’t even a member, pledged a whole one. Frontarse and Quicksand are donating a barrel between them. One barrel from Hand Job. Boo – one barrel, Faker and Slipstream half. At this point Indianus slapped her forehead and said, “There’s more – I forgot – I’m so stupid….” At which the gallant crowd politely – and loudly - agreed with her. Squire and After Shock are each donating a half.

Formalities over, it was time for the Mystery Whip. Astronut sailed into the circle and started asking the crowd questions – a bit of a foolhardy thing to do at that time in the evening. What was going on in Canada, he wanted to know. “Not much!”  was the universal reply. But one well-informed soul got it right – The World Athletics Championships in Edmonton. Astronut had seen a lot of likely contenders for various sports on the run. He wanted to get Indecent Exposure for her attempts at the women’s modern pentathlon as she was running, jumping and hurdling in all directions – and constantly yelling, “Keep running!” - but she missed out on the swim so she was disqualified. (Anyway, she’d gone home – Ed.) A mere technicality.  Instead, he brought in Peanuts for her new take on the Fuck Me shoes. Her trainers incorporating in-line skates are more catch-me-and-you-can-fuck-me shoes, suggested SCC. Bloody peculiar things to wear in the circle anyway.

He then called in Saliva as she was in new shoes at the start of the run – and at the end -  which seemed to be nothing short of miraculous considering the amount of shiggy on the run. He suggested that - like a famous marathon runner of 20 years ago – Saliva took the bus. Saliva protested mightily, saying that she just had a good maid. (Eh? She takes her maid on the run? – Ed.) Don’t ask me – I’m just the scribe.

Two other ladies had been seen participating in some new event that was a mystery to Astronut – synchronised push-ups or something. He picked on Faker - Bo Peep having left – and asked her what she was warming up for – some bedroom athletics with Shitstream? Ripper unkindly suggested that she was practising the reverse missionary position, as Slipstream’s getting too old to hold his end up, as it were.

And all the while the circle was interrupted by a constant exodus of bikes and lorries from the park, which made the job of whippery even more of a problem. Lots of calls to ice the hares for their choice of venue.

And the ice still loomed, unused – one, lone, solitary stand.  Frontarse determined that it should be pressed into service, and noted that Louise was sitting down in the circle. Since she was a visitor, he iced the chap who brought her – so Astronut wasn’t even given a chance to leave the circle. He was wearing normal trousers this week – no side zips – and willingly dropped them to reveal a pair of cavernous shorts beneath (Be grateful for large mercies – Ed.) – and Louise sat on him.

The Mystery Mystery Whip lurched in. It was Stiff, and his first charge was a thoroughly justifiable one to Coo Chi Coo who had spent most of the circle doing business on his phone. Lots of pleas to “ice the bastard” played right into Coo Chi Coo’s horny little hand as it gave him ample opportunity to sit on Louise while he did his down-down.

Stiff then wittered on about the Tokyo Protocol and global warming, but the hash – combined brain the size of a small pea – stared at him uncomprehendingly. Ah, this was because he wanted to single out someone who is really being affected by global warming – another member of the Stiff family – Spiffy. Every time Stiff sees him his hair is shorter and shorter – obviously a doomed effort to look cool. Sorry – stay cool. But not only that – Stuffy and Not Tonight are obviously contributing to global warming in a big way. (Why? Do they fart a lot? – Ed.) Possibly, but Stiff was referring to the fact that they arrived in not one but two gas-guzzling dinosaur cars on the hash tonight.

And while they were doing their down-downs Nurse Fucker was iced for private-partying. Hey, he’s a Seletar guy – he positively revelled in it. And when Peanuts unwisely carried on nattering, she was formally introduced to Nurse Fucker – or rather to Nurse Fucker’s nether regions (Too horrible to contemplate! – Ed.) as she had to sit on him.

Stiff continued by remarking that sometimes you like to run behind people on the trail and sometimes you don’t. He picked on Quicksand as an example of the latter because there he was – being sucked along in her vortex – (!!) as she was bounding away in front of him and then she suddenly stopped, causing a pile up. She was obviously taking the piss out of him as he’s an old man, he said. “Why should I be the only one?” added Frontarse.

Faker also sucked him along (I’m saying nothing! – Ed.) but she was falling about all over the place, causing Stiff to enquire if she had forgotten her contact lenses. “No – just my legs,” was the reply. Stiff dragged in Faker in her tiny shorts and enquired of the drooling male contingent if it looked like she had forgotten her legs. (Maybe she keeps a spare pair in the boot. – Ed.)

And finally he called in Indianus for screaming “on-on!” right by the supposed hornets’ nest – rather than warning people -  and thus trying to get runners to commit hara-kiri by impaling themselves on any passing hornet. Her excuse was that she was “getting bored at the back”. Worth a down-down in itself if you ask me. And Careless tells me it wasn’t a hornets' nest anyway – but it scared the hell out of lots of us, I can tell you.

Now it was time for the serious part of the evening – the farewell to the hares. In an impromptu (Ha! – Ed.) display, Indianus brought in a load of gear to help Careless and Warlike Talkie adapt to life in Dubai. Firstly Walkie Talkie was attired in black robes, yashmak and sunglasses and given a ball and chain – better get used to it, baby! She looked like an entry in the Iranian version of Miss World. At least we might be able to recognise her by her sandals. Careless was draped in a white sheet and a dishcloth on his head. (Looked like Lawrence of Arabia did he? - Ed.) You surely jest. He also got sunscreen and sunglasses and - in the absence of a camel – a Camelback. Wally Talkie was also given an ethnic bag in which to carry Careless’s beer. “What about my beer?” was her plaintive moan. The circle reminded her of her place in the Arab world. Five paces behind her husband – unless walking through a minefield, when it’s the other way round.

Indianus tried to test the attention of the hash. She turned to the leaving couple and intoned “Now, when you’re setting those runs in the jungle…..” Somehow she wriggled out of a down-down for that. Anyway, she had some special luminous paint and, bizarrely, hairspray to help them mark the trail in the desert. These she squirted liberally in the circle.

And as a last effort to help them adapt to the future, there was a rendition of the Dance of the Seven Veils by shy and retiring Sybil. She only had one veil, which she fluttered in a suggestive fashion – leading to cries of “More veils! More veils!” - as she pranced around the circle in bare feet, managing to tread in a large amount of the luminous paint.

The circle had gone on for rather longer than the National Day Parade so AOB was called for. Coo Chi Coo does love to have the last word, so in he waltzed. He noted that Indianus in her tiny sarong had been squatting in the circle organising the dressing-up garb for the hares and flashing her sexy undies, without even flashing one glimpse of g-string in his direction. You could have moved round to my side, CCC. By the way, she was wearing a red one…

And the Phantom Ice Liberator struck again, unseen in the confusion. Over with the ice stand and off he raced down the road, cackling maniacally as he ran from retribution. Who was that masked man!? I do not think we’ve seen the last of him…..

And on to an excellent on –on where the beer flowed like – er – beer and Careless even sang a song. A fair few hardy souls continued the farewellery at Anywhere until the wee hours since it will be Careless and Walkie Talkie’s last time there – for a while anyway. All the best in Dubai, chaps – you’ll be missed.

On On!

Black Widow

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