Bigamist busted by the Village People
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If Hash Names are anything to go by then we had a Cracker Combo last Monday.
First up we have the serial wife collector, who is paradoxically neither Big nor a Mist. Besides why would anyone want to collect wives? If one really wants variety and lots of regular “bedding experiences” then why not use the Personal Ad columns or one of those discreet agencies. Expensive? Then just remember the wise words of one William Congreve in “The Mourning Bride” of 1697.
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”
So here‘s the tip for Bigamist and other like minded fellas …”use the personals”
If you don’t follow this sound advice then the local newspaper/rag will have headlines like……
“He’s the Aussie husband who won’t stop getting married.
He said ‘I do’ to Yvonne while married to Krystal and he’s just popped the question to Julie.
But now, all three of his brides have busted him”
Now, his running mate on Monday night couldn’t have been more different. Some folk call him Molly, which is a bit risqué especially as he is a finely honed athlete from the Royal Australian Navy. The other two Hash reps from the RAN (The Commodore & Nautilus) are nothing like our Molly. Which gives rise to the inevitable association, doesn’t it?
A butch bloke, with a ladies name and ex Royal Australian Navy….Well,…. “Hello sailor”.
And with that the mind races back to the late 1970’s with of course Molly’s mates from Taylor Square and the immediate rainbow surrounds; a well known Urban Village with very nice People, who like to sing dance and make pop records like …..”In the navy”
Yes, you can sail the seven seas In the navy
Yes, you can put your mind at ease In the navy
Come on now, people, make a stand In the navy, in the navy
Can’t you see we need a hand In the navy Come on, protect the motherland In the navy
Come on and join your fellow man In the navy
Come on people, and make a stand In the navy, in the navy, in the navy (in the navy)
They want you, they want you They want you as a new recruit
And who wouldn’t want to join the Navy with all that fun, most particularly as this former bastion of male ego and pride has now thankfully been infiltrated with equally spunky young ladies…..And if you don’t believe this, well look no further ……..
Wouldn’t you like to be “In the Navy” with these fun loving “Village People”
But what about the friggin run? It’s a myth that the eastern suburbs are in a foreign land?. From the north shore it only takes about 20 minutes…a lot less than crawling one’s way up to Turramurra or fighting your way over the Spit Bridge to Manly or wherever. Their chosen patch was essentially a night time frolic around Centennial Park, but with a little difference……..
We slipped out of the park and into a whole new unknown suburb of classy back alleyways and gentrified laneways comprising double and triple garages with granny flats above. At one point I thought that we might have gone through a time warp and landed up in an up-market London mews around South Kensington, Holland Park or Queens Gate. Serious and Q U I E T money could be smelt from block to block with the tasteful and costly conversions and additions. This was surely not the Bondi Junction of the early eighties?.
Serious and Q U I E T $$$ money could be smelt from block to block
And then by chance we burst out onto an open road with a large and well established Jewish school and synagogue dominating the street frontage. Ahhhhh….our play boy hares for the night had taken us through Sydney’s latest renamed suburb of …Tel Aviv. However that didn’t last long as we were soon directed (or more truthfully guessed….but more on that in a moment) back into and across Centennial Park where lots of young boys and girls were playing “bonding games” on the basket ball courts.Our hares had missed out on a golden opportunity to rejuvenate the ageing pack to their youthful glory days.
Grape, Litty Kitter & Changi refused to believe that the home trail would actually take us home along the pollution and din of Anzac Parade and therefore shortcut across the paddock, only to be thwarted by a 2.1 metre high Victorian steel railing with jagged spear tops. Do we run allllllllllllll the way around or chance our way over?. A true dice with the family jewels. Never have you seen three middle aged blokes take it so gingerly over a fence, and with only millimeters to spare we made it and back to home in an hour and half.
It was a pleasant trot on a beautiful moon lit night through really interesting country, only stuffed up by not having nearly enough arrows and flour. At least 4 or 5 times the number of arrows and flour would have kept the pack going and reduced the total running time to just over the hour. But then again what would you expect from a sailor (just like Captain Bligh) who is constrained to the quarter deck of their beloved ship. And as for Bigamist….well, surely his real interest was more in chalking up a new wife notwithstanding the advice above?
The On-On was hosted yet again in a local pub. This was certainly not the quiet prestige of Tel Aviv a few blocks away. This was your rough and tumble punters pub, TV’s in every corner with doggies and horses racing their way around tracks accompanied by the chatter of incessant commentary which no one listened to. This surely begs the intelligence quota of this country. The food was cheap (ish), with $10# for an entrée sized meal served in an outsize plate/bowl and the wine was “humble” for the price. But we had the back room to ourselves and that was good, and when the time came Szzz Benzzz officiated as he does in his indomitable style, backed up by the ever watchful and professional Fox Face.
Tic Toc was back from driving his shit box Ford Ghia across the outback to Fremantle and instead of telling us a story or two (see below) he delivered fresh jokes from his country pub exploits.
Your Hash Journo
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