Run No. 992

Date: 21 September 2001

Where: Cactus Road

Occasion:  Posh Duck’s Birthday

Hares: Suzee Wong, Pandora’s Box and Gerald

Members: 47

Guests:  ?

- Returnees : 1

- Visitors : 2

- Virgins : 2

Checks were few and far between on this run, but luckily it was eminently short-cuttable with plenty of time for the Old Farts to rabbit on at the back, our numbers boosted by the return of King Leer. Apparently the worst thing about running in KL is that he can’t get rid of Hooray who keeps on turning up like the proverbial bad penny and cramping King Leer’s style with the local crump. Anyway, the run was pretty straightforward with some nice countryside over Yio Chu Kang Road – and it was mercifully short as well, with helpful hares popping up here and there to show us the way.

Frontarse decided he could dispense with any back up and started the circle without the presence of either Indianus or myself, but we panted our way complainingly into the circle as he called in the hares. He was particularly appreciative of the “greenness” of using shredded Straits Times (Best use for it – Ed.) to mark the trail. It was announced a Good Run, and the on on was an obvious one – down the road at the seafood restaurant.

Next week’s run is the annual Coo Chi Coo birthday fest – why the wee one feels that it’s worth celebrating the ageing process is beyond me, but he always puts on a good show. Yes, it’s overseas again, but this time only as far as Sentosa, at Sunset Bay. “Ooh, a foam party,” salivated Phoney Dick – who is surely old enough to know better. Maybe he’s overdosed on Viagra again. Coo Chi Coo promises virgin territory. “Not as good as virgin girls but easier to find…” he averred. And he also promises a disco, dancing – and sex on the beach. Can I hold you to that, CCC? (Maybe it’s BYOV – Bring Your Own Vibrator. – Ed.)

And Frontarse then introduced the virgins – a Scandahooligan hunk called Oliver and a tightly bejeaned Ram. Frontarse attempted to make the virgins feel at home by asking them where they came from, who brought them etc. In avuncular fashion, “Who brought you along tonight?” he asked Oliver. Oliver looked intensely puzzled. “What?” he asked. Frontarse tried again, doing the usual trick of speaking more loudly, but poor old Oliver was lost until Stuffy came in to translate. “WHO – DID – YOU – COME - WITH?” he bellowed – which seemed a bit of a personal question but finally the penny dropped. Shit Fit was to blame. And Ram did not escape grilling either. He apparently had met someone in a bar who suggested he come along – Karen from Australia – who she? Perhaps she should have given him some idea of how to dress as he had run in the same spray-on tight jeans he was wearing in the circle. Phoney hove in to relate that at the beginning of the run Ram couldn’t get out of a drain ‘cos his jeans were too tight. Indy – the Mother Teresa of Lion City – kindly offered to help him take them off. “It’s part of my duty,” she selflessly proclaimed. Ram looked suitably terrified and scurried away.

Frontarse called Shit Fit in for not telling Oliver about etiquette as he had been observed gabbling away on his hand phone during the run. Shit Fit manfully sat on the ice, revealing royal purple underwear.

And it’s interesting to note that ever since I suggested that I had the best position (Or worst! – Ed.) sitting directly behind the ice, I’ve noticed that my area is substantially more crowded by interested ladies than before. You know who you are…

Then Frontarse called in the visitors. The voluble and unstoppable Pitstop was called in – with a stern injunction to say absolutely nothing. And King Leer was called in to keep him company.

Time for the Mystery Whip. This was Coo Chi Coo, who moaned that he was only asked halfway round the run and saw absolutely nothing, so he was just going to call in people who had annoyed him. Firstly he called in Aye Aye for having the temerity to be in front of him at one point. Then he wanted “the dork in the jeans” – poor Ram’s faux pas was highlighted yet again. And, showing just how small-minded (And everything else! – Ed.) he can be, he called in other virgin Oliver. Why? “He’s young, tall and good-looking. I hate him!”

Indianus then gave Coo Chi Coo his hare hat for next week’s run, leading to all sorts of unkind comments such as “He’s finally got hair,” “He needs hair,” etc etc.

The Mystery Mystery Whip was Sad Bastard, bearing an uncanny resemblance, as noted by Phoney, to Jacques Chirac. He was running along with Strapless and Strapless suddenly whopped out his dong and had a slash on the hash. He was done for crass behaviour. Lost and Found was singled out too, as, when running by the river, he had offered a down down to anyone who would throw a woman in the water. How very unchivalrous.

Obviously everyone had been far too well behaved on the run as that was it from the whips, but luckily the evening was enlivened by an idiot in the house. Oliver, who obviously had been imbibing far too much of the amber fluid and certainly had not been briefed properly by Shit Fit, spoke up – extremely unwisely - from the sidelines. “I need a name!” he cried. There was an enormous outcry of derision at his naïve presumption. Frontarse had a demonic light of mischief in his eye. “We don’t normally ice our virgins…” he began – before being drowned out by the universal cry of “Ice! Ice!” Oliver bounded up like an eager puppy and in an almost indecent effort to show himself as part of the proceedings, whipped off everything and plonked his bum on the ice. Poor chap obviously doesn’t have any friends, or something. And certainly this action did call for a hash name – a lot of us thought that Dumb Shit worked pretty well – and various offers were heard from the floor over the next few minutes. Oliver started sounding distinctly less enthusiastic. “Please give me a name," – he begged. "It’s cold!” Ahhh, diddums.  Finally, Cool Stool was accepted as it probably described his condition by now. Bet he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

Indianus came in to give the awards, but before she began she iced Strapless and Phoney Dick for keeping up an endless farrago of chatter. Anyway, she had a 50 runs tee shirt for Quicksand, and Frontarse sportingly suggested that some other man should be given the privilege of manhandling his significant other. The newly named Cool Stool was the lucky guy – and proved he was as inept at helping a lady dress as he was at hash etiquette – he virtually garrotted poor Quicksand with the shirt before she finally managed to extricate herself – only to find it was on backwards. Cool Stool suggested that he normally took them off rather than putting them on but considering his behaviour over the evening it’s my belief that he’s actually one sandwich short of a picnic. Time will tell.

Indianus then did the 1000th run propaganda stuff again. And again thanks to new keg people - Shit Fit, King Leer, Strapless, and Gerald and Eugene are all donating a keg. So is Shoeless, but he says he’s going to drink it all himself. Mr. Magoo and Joep are each donating a half keg. Joep had gone home so lookalike was someone tall and northern European – you’ve guessed it, the ubiquitous Cool Stool – who must have been well on the was to alcoholic poisoning by now.

AOB Coo Chi Coo hove in to berate Frontarse for ignoring a virgin – and one with big tits as well. Denise was belatedly brought in and both got down-downs. Denise wittered on that she had had a delightful evening and found someone with the same birthday as her. “Sounds like a good reason for sex to me,” said Coo Chi Coo, but I think that if he met someone with a birthday in the same century that would be good enough for him.

In waltzed Halfpenny with a thank you to the hares for providing bananas after the run. No Good had pointed these out to her and asked if she wanted a “Chinese” banana or a “Caucasian” banana. In true politically incorrect style she held up a small straight banana and a burgeoning monster banana. (Fill in your own comments here. – Ed.)  No Good apparently had vouchsafed the information that the Chinese ones taste better but she doesn’t mind eating either. Not Tonight hove in to comment that the Chinese ones slip down more easily but it’s only the Caucasian ones for her. Coo Chi Coo eyed the little yellow fruit uneasily and said it looked a bit like him on a bad day. Anyway, the ribaldry continued in true schoolboyish fashion and No Good and Not Tonight gave the circle lessons in how to eat bananas suggestively. The last comment from Coo Chi Coo was that there was no difference really – they both have the same amount of protein. “That’s why we have handkerchiefs,” added Frontarse. Hmm. Obviously runs into more spitters than swallowers….

And then it was time for Pitstop. Let’s keep this brief. (Please! – Ed.) He was at the back of the pack and noted Double Back running back past him asking him not to follow. The ungallant lout whipped her for having a piss on the run. After Shock was merely whipped for overtaking him. Philthy Phil also did the same.

All I can say is maybe they have a different sense of humour in Jakarta.

Hare Gerald came in to whip Astronut for getting stuck in the first bit of jungle, getting wildly off paper and having to bash his way through the undergrowth for 15 minutes.

And Shit Fit wanted to highlight the fact that his 52-year-old mate Wickless is still just a big kid – he wasn’t at the run as he was sitting for the theory part of his motorcycle test. Phoney Disk was the lookalike and I got roped in too as a Diskless groupie.

And then it was off to the on on and we managed to enjoy ourselves pretty well. Food was excellent and far too plentiful – a good evening, indeed.

On on!

Black Widow

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