The Sydney Circumcised Harold
Independent? Scurrilous, Fictitious …..Always!
Run Number 2438 March 24, 2014
A Transgender Run with a “Gordon” and a Bigamist.
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The President Is Missing !
When his butler delivered the early morning cup of tea and newspapers (warmed to skin temperature) this morning, ‘The President’ was nowhere to be found. His bed was empty and the wardrobe left wide open with obvious signs of hurried packing and departure. WAS HE KIDNAPPED?
Amongst personal items missing were his skimpy multi fluoro coloured body hugging lycra gear. Rife speculation has been circulating that he has eloped on his bicycle with some very close friends.
The Missing President Music
A thorough search around his gated estate was conducted by the police
but with no obvious signs of which direction he might have headed. The famous “Shunder shirt” and the Codpiece shorts
This leaves the POSH Government in temporary disarray whilst a frantic re-organisation behind the scenes takes place to cover the duties of this high office. It comes at a time of seasonal transition when the POSH government makes the traumatic switch from HIGH Summer summits to the dark cold Winter months. This is a time when this charismatic President is most needed to keep the morale high as depression and recession naturally follow the euphoria of a long social Bull Run during the October to March period. If you see this man wearing suspect lycra gear with his ‘Shunder shirt’ and featured Red cod piece shorts, please report immediately to the Missing Persons Bureau Associated Press
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POSH Journalists Go AWOL
Conspiracy theories are mounting as to the whereabouts of two investigative journalists from the POSH Government. Affectionately known around the hack traps as Tic Toc (AKA Big Ears) and his little play chum, Kitty Litter (AKA Noddy), their absence without leave is equally intriguing as the President’s disappearance.
Speculation is also growing as to the reason for their flighty departure and where they may now be. Between them they hold vital secrets and sensitive information about the inner dealings of the POSH Government. If this falls into the wrong hands there will be dire consequences. GPS and satellite surveillance, as used for the missing Malaysian Airlines MH 370, is being used to trace these two undercover agents. So far they appear to have employed the same mysterious techniques as the Malaysian Airlines plane which (Tic Toc AKA Big Ears) has confounded the world’s best digital tracking agents.
Reuters
Read Related Stories …Go to the “Circumcision Supplement “
POSH Government Circumcision
By Karl Marx (SCH Political Analyst)
Have you ever thought how the Sydney POSH Government is structured? I mean really structured?
You might be surprised to learn that it is structured just like a penis. At the very tip you have the President. Under him you have a number of underlings, hangers-on or sundry cabinet members who help support the columnar structure. They may wax and wane in size, energy and self importance according to the weather, the intimacy of company and other environmental or alcoholic influences. The combination of the President and his outer cabinet members provides protection to the inner core of this valuable pristine and phallic structure.
Imagine then what happens when the President and his close minders go missing. Well, …..the outer foreskin is effectively circumcised and one is left with only the inner “meat” of the government, but that part which provides the real thrust of action when needed each week.
With the abrogation of their weekly duties and mysterious disappearance of the hash Government top and foreskin we, are currently experiencing the equivalent of the POSH Government penis being circumcised.
Shock Horror! This is truly traumatic surgery at such a mature age of the POSH. But just like a penis, it is able to survive and function reasonably well at many different sizes and situations. This week’s shrinkage will just mean that a willing and ‘helping hand’ will be needed to do the heavy lifting as required…. And for that the POSH Government appears to have a number of suitable candidates….plus, of course, a little help from their ‘best mates’!
Think about it… Karl.
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Bigamist Always has 2 or 3 in Tow, But surely Not a “Gordon”
Now why would a Hash fearing, woman loving, Gladesvilleite meander all the way to the upper north shore to set a summer-winter transgender (transitional) run for the pack?
■ Was it the lure of a ‘Gordon’ rather than a ‘Sheila’?. One with either silicon breasts or a PVC dildo.
■ Was it because most of the Committee have gorne AWOL and he thought no-one would spot the gender difference?
■ OR was it to show off his latest “conquest”…..a spunky little Thai waitress …….Gordon’s little sister?
The truth is that Bigamist is something of a soothsayer. Predicting that the endless sunny summer weather would break as soon as the proverbial sunshine out of Tic Toc’s posterior was extinguished with his absence, that it would start raining. Only those who were not ‘storm-scared’, ‘rain-shy’ or had bicycle saddles stuck up their crotches near Cootamundra, trickled into Moree Street under dark stormy clouds. It wasn’t going to be heroic evening, we were promised by Biggie at the start. Super and Cinders took off like greyhounds downhill in Moree Street, with Goon Show lolloping not far behind, only because it was all downhill and the wind was behind him.
Soon in to the bush….albeit an ’urban bush’ fire trail, as revisited from the Goanna runs of old, although he was obvious by his absence. Given the storm preceding the run it was the right thing to do, so thought Saltpeter, who along with the best of last year’s committee, had bailed this year’s paler version out of a sticky situation by acting TM. Emerging from the gloom of the bushland and onto Gordon Golf Course, the miniscule dobs of white flour were as hard to track as the final flight of MH 370.
Intelligence or just good fortune kicked in as the stragglers and walkers fanned out in a line across the fairways as if looking for a murder clue. Thankfully Wrappa had learned how to navigate from his now famed aviator Uncle Biggles, and soon he herded us towards Goanna Ville on the north side of the emerald green fairways.
Clearly Grape’s biological GPS took a turn for the worse, as he headed at least 800 west-south-west of the true trail bearing.
Uncannily though, Grape re-emerged ahead of the back markers and was seen striding thirstily up Moree street en-route to the bucket. Even more uncannily the maimed and injured (S-Bendzzzzz et al) arrived later….much, much later……..from the Pacific Highway direction, so who knows whose trail they must have followed. But who cares anyway?
This was obviously a cost cutting BUDGET run, as corn chips and packet junk food was handed around at the bucket, all in the name of canapés. Very droll!
So Biggie, or was it Moishe’s connection to a Thai lady-in-waiting? had lined up a real-meal-deal in place of the Hash trailer BBQ’s. However Rule No. 1 was instantly broken. Never keep the pack waiting at the tables. In spite of only 3 other customers at the front of the shop, it took at least half an hour before the food arrived, but when it did, it was definitely worth it. Heaps of it, and not half bad either.
Centrepoint washed it back copiously with his ‘pink lady-lad’ wine (Mateus Rose), generously sharing a glass or two with Changi. GS’s cellar should supply more of this coloured wine for the more discerning imbibers.
After a fresh hot tasty sumptuous dinner Goon Show attempted to officiate as ‘Chief Assistant to the Assistant Chief’ –AWOL- but was immediately up-staged by his predecessor from last year’s august committee, S Benzzie Boy, who regaled us with more knee-moania operation trivia. This time Pee Dub’s brush with surgery and the now infamous Canadian Walking Sticks to put him (PD) back on the trails.
A good night all round well planned by Bigamist, TM’d by Salty, humoured by S Benzzie Boy, and all recorded by your reprieved journo, Changi. ……..Funny that…….all last year’s committee stalwarts to the rescue!
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The Circumcision Supplement
The Saga of the Missing
Tic Toc ………
and his little mate ………………….
Klitty Litter
One fine day Big-Ears decided that he and Noddy needed a cycling holiday and it should be the south western plains . Cootamundra to Young and region to be precise. This was a ‘first’ for a person who didn’t even know what “peddle” meant. Actually Noddy thought “holiday” was a ‘holly-day’, which everyone knows is green, leafy and very prickly. However Big Ears promised him an ‘exciting time’ for this little chap.
The excitement built up and Noddy wanted to tear off at once without doing the dishes, but Big-Ears was disciplined and he insisted that everything was washed and put away and that Noddy’s bed had been made and that the house was nice and tidy. A bag was packed, money taken from the Hash Cash box and then they were ready to depart from Cootamundra to Young on their two little bicycles, singing a little song (composed by Noddy) as they rode along.
Soon they bumped over ruts and pot holes in the shitty road surface (blame the RMS) so hard that Big-Ears fell off. Big Ears was not too happy about this and blamed Noddy for weaving in front of him. After a short, sharp ‘reprimand’ about his young companion’s unconscionable cycling habits, he picked up his bicycle and on they went on until eventually Noddy spotted something he’d never seen before — a mass of pale brown grasslands.
“What’s that?”Noddy asked.
“It’s the wheat fields ” replied Big Ears
“They’re too big. Much too big. Please, let’s go and find a nice little wheat field” he said agoraphobically “And the wheat keeps blowing in the wind, and what are those big ugly buildings?”
“That’s the town of Young coming up, you bell headed Toytown idiot ” replied his best chum Big Ears. “And that’s part of our holiday destination”.
And that, fellow hashmen, is why your step-in journo has been purloined for this week’s scuttlebutt.
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