Run 2417 – 28th Oct 2013

The Sydney Monday Hareld

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First Run 1967                     O N  O N .   A L W A Y S .                    Number 2417   October 28, 2013

Be-Little Manly? Not when she’s gorge-ous, wet & wild

Bandicoots and randy coots, more than 40 of us, hit the 6:30 scoot from Little Manly Cove to Collins Beach..leading the pack from behind up past the Police Brutality Academy were the King, ‘Frisco and Bunny. Fiercely determined to overhaul Poly, Payling and Robbo (regaling the enthralled athletes with his encounter on the Harbour Bridge with the constabulary, having wisely stopped in a lay-by some hours earlier and crept into the back seat for a ziss, after a skinful of Captain Morgan’s finest.  Tip to Hanoi, Capt Bligh, Kitty, et al: next time climb into the back seat before Mr Plod taps on your window..wait a sec, there is no back seat in an MX5).

Unbelievably, up ahead stumping to the beat of a North Head rhythm was Ayatollah, stoically ignoring the pain of Phantasmagorical in his left leg (which is not the least bit related to gout which NO Posh member suffers). Smiley, just back from a stimulating week of culture and prayer in Adelaide, closely tracked by Duckweave, back from recceing the world, bounded up through the anthroponius and ti-tree to burst upon Sydney’s finest vista…elevated views above Old Man’s Hat capturing our grand Harbour, basking in the setting sun. Then came Flying Virgin, taking a hard left behind Grape (who had stopped whingeing—does he ever?– after noting the earlier exhortation chalked by ? on the trail) and Scud into gorgeous Quarantine Head gorge, up through the cloudy draw.  As Co-hare and Trailmaster Moishe noted where else could you be, even if you stopped to smell the roses (eh?), that’s better than watching a P&O liner passing through the heads, while racing up a ripper of a gully passage from which JC (Jesus Christ) would be happy to make His grand (second) entrance, through to the final cut.  Unexpected bonus: the windows of the accommodation dorms at the top of Q Station are left unshaded because who would ever come up through the wild, inhospitable terrain behind them on a Monday night?  Yep, you guessed it, and only the screams and fulsome titters from some of the young lady guests forced the growing bunch of noses to be slid from the glass and with their owners head reluctantly up the bitumen and back to the bucket chorusing behind several of our military officer members pied piper style: There is nothing Like a Dame, Nothing in this World.

And the humour continued right from the beginning of the OnOn…Salami!..do people in the western world still consume this stuff?  Served with tasty Pilko-prepared beans..and either the beans means farts—or was it the sauerkraut (no not Manfred, another one)?  Then inexplicably Wine-Guzzling Goon, after simply glimpsing dessert went berserk slapping chocolate ice cream with embedded macadamias on multiple heads and faces, including innocent bystander TicToc. The Show is clearly allergic to anything sweet (and innocent). Philthy confided in Wally Grout that one of his medical advisers took a look at his wallet and said Hmmm, that’ll have to come out.

PeeDub brought much-needed calm, wrestling with the linguistics of linguini, drizzled with irony over a bed of laughter.  Of course the climax was the celebration of Beatle Paul’s pedophile cousin’s brother-in-law’s release with The Fab Four Tribute Farts, Calici, Scud, Music and TT, performing an amazingly authentic version of Ten Green Bottles (It was goodnight to Irene who was with Jungle in Melbourne).  Note to Members: Jack the Ripper may have received a performance-enhancing procedure.  No accusations, but naturally he will be subjected to the usual after-run checks and tests we all receive. 

We remembered Your Choice’s dad, and our condolences are very much with YC and his Family.

Be kind to your Committee next week with eight of ‘em going to represent Sydney Hash at the 75^th Anniversary of all Hashdom, they all move up eight.  Be mindful of any grandiose and egocentric acts, and blow the whistle when the travellers return.                               –OnOnTToc