February 11th Run No. 2380
Superglue was Stuck in Reverse Whilst Veggie was Caught Noggin
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It’s truly remarkable how so many hash handles, barring 3 or 4, awarded in jest at some bawdy On-On way back when, remain so applicable to their alto-ego personas after all these years. Our hares this week clearly fall into this category.
Take Super Glue for instance. OK, so his family name sounds like the famed manufacturer of some instantaneous and unbreakable adhesive; but look more closely at this hashman ‘beneath the skin’.
Now here we have a true loyal dependable bloke, a hashman who is good to his word and sticks like ….well… err ….Superglue…to anything he commits to. And his committee credit titles alone read like a foreign diplomat’s postings. So why would anyone doubt the integrity and quality of his run recce’s and setting.
To miss a ‘Super’ run is like failing to turn up for a free night of pure passion with the girl of your clandestine dreams.
Now, Veggie is a dark horse to say the least. The ignoramus committee of yesteryear sadly mistook his Nordic lilt for being a Swede (and a well known root vegetable) rather a ‘Norwegian Nog’..and I hasten to use this term with the greatest respect, as you will see. But in Vegie we have something of Nordic Royalty. A quick search into his genealogy revealed his true pedigree and demeanour. Read on if you have a moment: –
“In the Lands of the Great North, where the black rocks stand guard against the cold sea, in the dark night that is very long, the men of the Northlands (read Norway) sit by their great log fires and they tell a tale of a legendary Nordic prince who built a seafaring longboat and set sail to claim his long sought after beautiful blond bride ‘Elfie’.
And so began the sagas of Noggin the Nog, in which the crown of Noggin, Prince of the Nogs was constantly hunted out by his scurrilous uncle, Nogbad the Bad, who devised his
ever evil plots to threaten the safety of the Noggin kingdom, in order to force Noggin the Nog to give up his royal crown. In a series of nasty plots Nogbad the Bad pursued his plans to the very brink of success, but at the last moment his plans were always foiled by some unexpected piece of luck, or cleverness on the part of the true Nogs.
To escape his uncle’s daring plans Noggin the Nod slipped surreptitiously out of the Lands of the Great Dark North (with the Noggin crown hidden carefully under his cape) to more mellow and climes in the Great Southern Land where there was plenty of sunshine, and was then quickly inducted into the POSH hall of fame. Our Veggie is therefore owed something of a deep royal bow!”.
“OK, OK…. But get on with Monday’s run report” I hear you demand!.
Well it started like many damp hash summer runs and quickly shaped up to be of Logie award territory, but all in reverse.
You see 2 years ago, almost to the day, Super and Spud had set a run from almost the same spot using nearly all the same paths and tracks…except the beginning and end parts which
were a bit different, and which were marked copiously with streams bog paper in areas of bush which had recently been burned back for fire hazard reduction. This week, the cheeky buggers set virtually the same run on Monday but backwards.
With amnesia and Alzheimer’s not being far off the growing list of hashmen’s ailments, (belly buttons included!) few would remember what happened last week, let alone 2 years ago, so I suppose that Super & Vegie were relatively safe…other than yours truly was the acting TM 2 years ago.
First up though were our usual resident CWA committee members (by now you’ll you know the usual suspects). This week it was headed by none less than walking n’ talking ‘Jack the Tripper’…… This retired, and fabulously wealthy ex-bank manager, was sporting an unusually l o o o o ng pair of beautiful BLUE running shoes. But the skinflint had bought them second hand, no less! The size 15 or so made poor Jack look like a dead ringer of good ol’ Goofy. In fact he was pure C hAotic poetry in motion whilst walking n’ talking up the suburban folklore of Balmoral, tripping over every dead and burned
out branch on his way. What a total delight to watch. God Luv ‘im!
Jack the Tripper in his beautiful blue shoes …a whopping size 15 or more.
Rumour has it that people who have big feet also have big……d—ks.
Thereafter we followed the Carrol Creek Track (all pretty stuff) but the evening’s peace was shattered by a Big girlie shriek from Goon Show (just like an overweight woman who has lost out on her prized item at the Boxing Day sales) as Benny the Swede brushed, (or is that rushed?), past in his haste to get somewhere faster than the rest of us.
Sadly GS’s girlie shrieks infected his other diminutive off-sider for the night…and I don’t mean Little Goon but rather Kitty Slipper. (No rellie of Peter I hope!). Anyway Kitty’s bleats and squeals of indignation were more muted as idling threats from the embedded journo came from just behind him.
Such influence these reports must have!
And then somewhere shortly after the Governor Phillip Walk turn off across the creek we headed up hill.
This was a true conversation stopper as it crawled endlessly up and up. All idle gossip stopped to silence as the pack crawled up this hill like old gold prospectors up the Klondike Pass. But we all survived, caught up with the front runners who had been completely bamboozled by a double check at the top, and then we found the trail which led us gently downhill towards home, with most of the runners in just over
the hour…Well most of us except Tic Toc, who clearly decided to put in some additional kms (somewhere out there) just for good measure. Fronting up for his dinner well after dark and lived up to his reputation as being the Late (sic) Tic-Toc.
I told you Superglue turns on a great run. It was well marked, and all through lovely country and completely in reverse. And Vegie did well too in looking after the lame footed and the walkers with his expurgated version of the run.
Baden Powell and Colonel Gaddafi please salute our very own Pee Dub. What a top job with the tarp.
All up before the run started, and for all the world it looked just like a Bedouin tented dining room for rabbles…..which is exactly what it was.
Thanks too to Fox Face and his good lady who worked tirelessly for most of Sunday to bring you a choice of 3 different MKR crafted salads. And excellent they were too.
Captain Knockers graced us for the evening. Bowling up for one of her last runs before heading out into the wicked wide world for an extended travel sojourn in her well earned retirement.
Plenty of humour on tap along with equally enjoyable wines.
Your Hash Journo