“Here we are again, happy as can be, all good friends and jolly good company.” Anyone old enough to know the words to that song, other than me, and a few other old dodderers?
A huge crowd turned up, so many, that fresh beer supplies were sent for. Quite wonderful.
Lots of old mates appeared, as if they had never been absent.
Sheik MeMe, and Arseholio to name a couple, from the land of the Vegemite sandwich, along with BB. Other notable piss heads were missing, hopefully just a temporary thing, General Kidney Wiper was AWOL, perhaps gathering his energy for the Veterans Run. Also I heard that Little Tommy Two Lips was sick, after forgetting to drink water, and food during a prolonged bender. Hope he can recover quickly, as he loves to be with us for the coming Dirt run.
The run site was a favourite place with great views to the NW. The good elevation gave for a pleasant breeze.
I bumped into a townie of mine. Moonie from Middleton, in north Manchester. I used to live about three miles away, in Chadderton, as a lad. I also met Cuckoo’s Nest, who had flown all the way from Oman. Mr Happy from Chiang Mai was spotted loitering closely to the beer truck, obviously very thirsty.
Another thirsty fucker was Fattus Maximus, who for once wasn’t making use of his Zimmer Frame. He was looking remarkably healthy, perhaps just sober, for a change.
Anyway, the run started, and after a couple of miles, we came to the split, with myself choosing the walkers trail, along which I attempted to jog. Then came the inevitable long hike up hill, with much muttering from Ball Ringer. I was quite cheerful personally as I myself close up the delightful derriere and lovely legs belonging to Something Clever.
Back at the A site, our grumpy GM walked past me saying that it was probably time to open the Eskie’s, just as the front runner Seal Sucker arrived, after obviously making several short cuts, according to Herring Choker.
Another wobbly person was GI Joe, who returned limping. Probably as a result of Lady Squeeze My Tube’s attentions, according to BB.
The lovely Black Panther was sporting a sore knee, after a tree jumped out in front of her, she told us. Not a Hash Crash she insisted, but none the less was invited to take a cold seat.
Hot Hope did a great job, flogging raffle tickets. A small bribe from myself saw me take home a package of Smirnoff Vodka.
Meanwhile BB received a bollocking for leaving an arse shaped depression in an upturned beer crate.
As I was sort of stuck in the Scribes chair, Beetroot Head did a fine job supplying me with beer, I thank you sir. Sauce for the Goose also assisted there, but I worked out why she sat close to me, as she had a close view of all the wrinkly bums, and shriveled scrotums, close by. The Pervert. Bless her.
Happy Survivor was also iced for being a clumsy fucker, also I think with a sore knee.
Having a difficult time just now, deciphering last night’s drunken sribbling.
Hash Trashers were invited to sit down, mainly drunks from previous runs, littering the jungle with their bit’s n pieces.
Hares were Iced by Emperor Airhead, even after they had organized a decent trot around the area. Much appreciated, Shy Tiger and her noisy Norwegian partner.
Tee shirts were presented, The Wizard and Un-Burly Chassis receiving one apiece.
Meanwhile Gasman sat down and occupied a complete Ice block, the greedy fat bastard. Airhead regaled us with a tale of how when really drunk he likes to piss all over his Gas Tank.
VV received a smart leather vest for all his heroic efforts.
Dingo took the bucket, with his two naughty girl friends seated nearby. One of whom had received an arm full of vomit while inside a taxi. The mind boggles! The Emperor then told us of a wonderful tale of Dingo locking himself out of his condo, with no pants on, and sleeping on a sofa in the reception area.
Car Licker got himself a new shirt. Unsure now, whether it was for 5 Hared runs, or completing 200 runs?
Getting a bit pished at this stage, as the clock ran down.
Arseholio was punished for somehow absconding with a rather special wooden spoon, last time he was here.
Sheik MeMe then took the circle. Coming in like a hurricane, in his usual cantankerous style, Icing everyone he clapped his eyes upon.
Mayo Queen was scolded for fucking up the sign in sheet, while Whore in the Window was punished for getting lost, and over running the trail, in his confusion. Cuckoo’s Nest was Iced for being a Sex Tourist, along with three piss eads from Hong Kong.
A clutch of plump Americans were iced for being environmental fuck ups.
BB came in and gave us a romantic song for, and about the Hares, being sex maniacs, with Shy Tiger making amorous scratches all over Herring Chokers enlarged Herring.
Well done all those unmentioned, such as Tan, the fill in, Brew Master, YMCA for being a miserable Dutch fucker, and of course Dirt Looney himself.
See you next week. No apologies for my pissed up ramblings here. You can all get Fucked.
On On. Barnacle Bollocks.