Location: The Precinct, 26 Holland St, Toowong - Start time 4PM
Last Words & Photo - Here They Are:
Pizza’s maiden run for Samford Inc should have been a pizza cake, but the crusty old campaigner had a few tricks up his sleeve to leave the pack more befuddled and bemused than usual.
Pizza’s maiden run for Samford Inc should have been a pizza cake, but the crusty old campaigner had a few tricks up his sleeve to leave the pack more befuddled and bemused than usual.
As we prepared for the start of
the run, we were hit by the chilling realisation that nobody had brought the
beer and vino, so a rescue team was hastily despatched to the nearby Gaythorne
RSL Club with strict instructions to return with the sustenance of life.
Joining us for the first time,
was Rumourmonger’s nephew, Max, a veterinary student from Newcastle, England,
who is in Oz to gain livestock management experience on a cattle station. Told
the hash was the biggest load of bull going, he was happy to tag along,
although still a bit sore from having run a marathon in Blighty a few days
earlier.
Within minutes of setting off,
the pack was in total disarray, with checks and back checks and false trails at
every turn. Down one side-street,
we came across a possum, glassy-eyed, open-mouthed and showing no vital signs
(bit like some of our runners actually!)
Our esteemed GM, Cuntry Member,
who has been missing in action of late, tried his best to rally the troops,
even if he did backtrack at the one and only water crossing for fear of getting
his tootsies wet! The trail eventually emerged at the Brookside Shopping
Centre, but to the disappointment of the women (and possibly some of the guys),
it was too late for a brief linger in the lingerie department.
Back at the circle, Pizza
cooked up a warming BBQ. Down-downs went to the hare for a great run, Max for
being a Samford virgin, Flower for letting Wopa go off to lunch with two women,
and Skidmark and Sherpa and Rumourmonger and Spice Girl for their respective
anniversaries.
As a special going away
present, Bootee presented Max with an arm-length rubber glove for those moments
of bovine intimacy that most of us would rather not think about before dinner.
Bootee strenuously denied that
Biggus Dickus had purchased this elongated protective sheath during one of his
regular trips to the adult shop down the road, claiming it was her own
handiwork and much more exciting than crochet. But just to make sure it was
properly sterilised Max was given a second down-down.... straight out of the
glove!!
Thanks Pizza for a great run!
On, On!
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