The thing about Rolleston, is its flat. It has no landmarks. It is full of houses that all look like each other. And it is f*cking miles away. Remember this as you read on. It may be important.
6.18 saw 007 and RLD kerb crawling along Campion Street looking for Triple S’s abode as neither had brought the address with them. On recognising his big purple beast sitting in the driveway they were the first to arrive, shortly followed by Dogs Bollocks and Shrek. By 6.33 a huge pack of about four had assembled but over the next few minutes the rest of the unruly mob drifted in to make a rabble ....sorry, pack....of about 15.
A few beers were quaffed, a few more slobbery dogs arrived, Fingers and Dagy rolled up red faced and breathless and we were off.
Left out of the driveway, right onto a well marked pathway and off we went, eagerly scanning the path and crying out with enthusiastic calls of “on on” as we skipped over the crisp and frequent trail markings. Into Othello Drive. A loop back to Rolly Ave and over onto the grass. Arrows were marked in flour and a little hard to pick out in the dark, but that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it? A check, some looking and shouting, then over the road onto a grassy bit. The grass looked very like the last grassy bit. Left onto Rembrandt and another check. The rule book says markings are to be within 100m of the check. Making the most of this opportunity and making us work for our dinner, Triple S had put the first mark at 99.5m away. How we laughed. More jinking around through houses that all looked a bit like each other and we soon picked up the shortcutting walkers. The lead swapped between FRB’s Wedgie, Nakker Rash, 007, Dagy and One Loose as each was tricked by Triple S’s clever use of checks and sparing use of flour. Which part of 100m does he not understand?? we chuckled as for the fourth f*cking time we ran in ever increasing circles around the checks trying to pick up trail.
And then there it was, the P*ss Stop and everything was forgiven.
“Are We?” Yes we were and off again. Well some of us at least. The committee called an impromptu meeting and in one fell swoop dessimated the runners pack by half. The flour got more widely spaced, just to keep us interested. The twist and turns started to disorient us, so we scouted the horizon for a landmark to put us back on the right track. Oh yeah, there weren’t any. It was flat. More checks. Less marks. More flat. More f*cking houses that looked like each other. At some point Nakker Rash got a bit tired and sweaty, so Dagy pulled him off in the pub. and then there were two....just 007 and One Loose. We made it as far as a check at New World then ran for 500m in every direction and found nothing. By the time Wank Plank rolled up in his Rasta skates we had exhausted all possibilities and were just standing on the check turning in circles like a pair of shitting dogs. With a cry of “f*ck this” lets go home, we realised we couldn’t cos it was still flat, still had no landmarks and still looked like every other fricking street in the town. With Wedgie now caught up as well and looking decidedly ragged and ill, completely by chance, about a mile and a half away, we stumbled on a bit of flour and followed it to a backwards PS and came to a complete standstill as we gave up completely.
Triple S sheepishly showed up in his wagon ten minutes later, having been hiding at a PS that no-one got to, and gave us directions home.
As people trickled back in – some by way of Triple S’s car, some by foot and in the case of BagShag and Frigid, some via Ashburton, we assembled for the fines circle and a game of spot the body-parts.
Can you name them?
The we all stood around staring at Triple S’s garage wall trying to see something in the vomit stain he had pinned to his wall, all to no avail. I took a picture of it and I have photo-shopped and cleaned it up below. Now I see what it is .....if you stare at it long enough you can see Homer Simpson!!!
After comparing toes – both foot and camel varieties – a restless and fractious circle heckled the fines masters through their chores in an effort to get to the food.
Fines were duly awarded with Dogs Bollocks reading from his specially prepared toilet paper notes and awarded broadly as follows:
RLD and Orful Fuk for scrounging a ride from Triple S
Mee Mee and Labrat “199’s” fines
Orful Fuk, Linc, and Frigid – bog roll fines
Triple S – shitty trail
Labrat for being jealous of Fingers’ camel toe
Fingers for having the prick (i.e. Dagy)
Dagy and Nakker Rash for pub skiving
007 for parading naked both at RLD’s house and at Hash
Nakker Rash – stretching
Condom awarded to Wedgie for paying his run money to the piss box, then only recovering his and not Nakker.Rash’s
Food was an excellent mousaka with taties and kumara, followed by chockie cake.
Food over, we all departed for the long drive back to civilisation as it was getting late, and ...did I mention it, it was f*cking miles away. And flat.
on on
007
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