ç
The Spirity Mandelaring Hareld _____________________________________________
First Run 1967 O N O N . A L W A Y S . Number 2446 May 19, 2014
RUN REPORT – St IVES/ S BENDS & FOXFACE & NELSON & BRUCE
Distance: 6.19km / Elevation Gain: 169m / Calories burnt: 536c
The memory-seeking began with the twisted S Bends (after all it was the 40th birthday of Rubik’s Cube..Hello Mash), atop a Memorial Park, St Ives table, haranguing a hopeful five and forty Hashmen. Eager to find the fabled Mandela Dick, Centrepoint and Rommel set off up Stanley, they presumed. Rightly as it turned out. Then turned rightly again, constantly keeping Mona Vale Road leftly as promised by the Hares, colourful St Ives identities Fox One and the aforeskinned-mentioned S Bends. Superglue soon slipped to the front sticking to the rail round Acron Oval, with Plunger and Jack the Ripper. Dr Livingstone was presumed missing, but Surgeon White showing quiet reserve beckoned the combined walkers, slow sloths, tepid trotters, half runners (as distinct from Half Marathon runners Kitty and Yakkity andTToc retd), young runners, and athletes, among them Druid, Pedantic, Baron von Drut, Music, Pilko, Khyber, Duckweave and Mr Neat along the Ridge Track. All this was a marvel of commitment (Hello Music), since the trail was thin on the ground, being laid with Playskool Invisible Chalk that required frequent sprays of cat piss to relieve, er reveal itself.
But credit where the dew drops, the Hares gave the Posh participants a view of snooty S’Nives via a trip through Top Rand Terrace aka Torokina Avenue, where only especially invited guests are normally permitted to enter and exclaim. Naturally, Calici, 4X, PeeDub and E-Shit were asked, politely, to avoid this precinct and instead spend the final metres of their run admiring other avoided landmarks: the reserves of Yarrabungle, Dingley Dell, Green Toad Tea Garden and Smithfield’s End (yes, Goanna’s winch and haulage juggernaut is moving to this green-fields location—“to be closer to his customers”). Finally the rejected runners, and the less-than-dejected dawdlers emerged onto presumably Stanley Street to bite on Bruce the Butcher’s braised boner, a meaty morsel known as Mandela’s Dick, even among polite people. “Scrumptious,” ejaculated the lads.
Having tasted power the Posh’s appetite now turned from Mandela’s member to Thai tucker at the Hanuman Restaurant. No-one was to leave hungry and this fine and friendly noshery persistently presented curried beef, broccoli, beans, sprouts and noodles till at last, relief, the downdowns. Rewarded were such luminaries as the Hares S Bends and Fox Face, Calici and Jungle for joiningMusic and TToc in the Shitbox shenanigans next week, and Pedantic for all the reasons in the world—all toasted in Carlsberg and Singha..but noticeably no Nelson (Mandela)..being of course a Stella.
Wrapping up the evening, humour of the African incontinent kind was laid upon the members by PeeDub, Jungle, Duckweave, S B, andTT. Security guards escorted the sated assemblage to their motors, sending them safely to the comfort of their downtown dormitories, Mandela’s Dick now a fond, all but flaccid distant memory.