Friday, September 13, 2019

Shit Hot Curry of the Year
Run 1948 Hare Bent Nose, from his place. 9.9.19
Run 1948, in commemoration of the Indian Independence from Britain, had Bent promise the shit hot run of the year. The run was perfunctory, essentially straight lines south and then north, largely in lane ways (no shit carts seen, and Rear Entry also sadly absent). It must also be pointed out that India actually gained independence in 1947, so the run was both perfunctory and pointless. Not the shit hot run he was hoping for.....
The pack set off at 1847 hrs, initially like sheep up the footpath without any trail, until the hare on his bicycle set them straight. Shafted appeared as the pack exited the driveway, and joined in without further ado. A healthy pack of walkers did their loop, while the unhealthy barfly drove his new car slowly to the drinkstop at Boot Rooter's garage. There it was warm, with heating and tables to rest drinks and nibbles on (note to Bent).
Once settled back in to the cold and bare shed, Fascinator welcomed both Dimwit AND the horn. (fuck off, ya c*nt)
Shafted, rubbing against the grain, attended with a smaller horn which he blew incessantly and melodically.
Welcomes back also to Nummy, Mrs D, Normal, and Fucken Squizzy. Fascinator then christened "a fucking awesome run", and called Donuts out the front with the news of his new grandson, exciting all the women in the shed. SS, also, had a charge for his grandfatherly news of the last 7 days. (20 toes)
A Screw with a tail, began "has everyone got the text I sent?".
"Beautiful" was said a number of times, in reference to the run, the timing of the start, all the mining stuff, and the precisely engineered trail.
A book, "The Brothers Bent" was produced to much acclaim. It appears judgemental behaviour is inherited. Somewhere in the banter (after he was labelled by Shafted as Mr Ray Candle), Bent was heard to say "I'll never be a fat cunt." Right again Ray, you're not fat.
S H I T T Y TR A I L
Shit, I've forgotten to organise a Sergeant.

Spencer Hocking stepped up manfully.
Quick Dick 99, Head Hunter presented with a very tough, unbroken goblet. (Oh, the wiggle of her arse... )
BP was accused by Lois of using the family heirloom tablecloth as a bike cleaning rag (Shame, shame). A family down down resulted.
Dimwit was charged for being a referee for George Pell, and tried a zinger about his illness (girl flu). Donuts was labelled as PILF for the night.
Nutcracker had a drink for being the mother of a premiership winning player, and the partner of a losing coach. Dr Death was charged in absentia for Mad Monday, and as one Dr drinks, both of the others drinked.
SS was heard to say it was minus three degrees this morning. Shafted commented that that was almost an erection.
A few references were made re the plethora of bikes in the shed, missing of course the one Fang stole 25 years ago.
Fascinator then had 20 minutes of house keeping, announcing every run for the next 3 months. Next week, Crown Hotel Buninyong, then, somewhere that begins with L, and a pink tie night in the middle of October.
We all had a moment's reflection on the untimely passing of Danny Frawley, then adjourned to the Aroma of India for the shit hot curry of the year. Most were quite content.

No comments: