The End is Nigh
Finally, the real penultimate run of this Committee and your tortured Scribe is running out of steam. Again we were out to punish the lower inher north shore this week with a trail by Colonel Sanders and Grape Ape (handling the chalk for the umpteenth time this year or was that handling the waitress at dinner). This time of year and this area is crawling with other hashes and their trails – it doesn’t help that there’s been no rain since I don’t know when, so potential for confusion, and that came to fruition. For many this is home game territory and that helped a few to get home. We’d expect to see Khyber On tonight as he’s a “homie” but he’d chosen to attend, by special invite, an exclusive Moocher thrown birthday party for Bunny Trapper???
XXXX was at the Bucket announcing to one and all that his knees were ok but his hips were f@#ked. Seems to me like everything from the waist down is f@#ked – have you seen the guy walk?
The walkers mostly came in together mainly due to the guidance of local Duckweave who gave them a part of a NSWH3 trail in their 5kms. A few like Slick weren’t going to let the Duck out of their sight.
Most of the runners came in together also, which according to Flying Scotsman was due to him and the TM laying bits of trail as they went and the others just following. White Shit looked a right mess when he arrived panting at the Bucket. Seems a big spicy birthday lunch had worked its way thru him and the only remedy was home to bed. A little scuttlebutt from Music Man whilst he was quenching his thirst – apparently some dickhead named Pedro (who would that be) had been on 2BL this morning sprouting about how he’d died whilst sailing in Mexico – who listens to 2BL?
For the On we jammed ourselves into the Berempah “hash house” -an establishment these hares have used before and probably the closest thing we get to a real hash house – well it is Malay street food, but 5 course degustation maybe not. It was great to see the Hares making sure the night worked by assisting with the serving. Soapbox Alert! Soapbox Alert! That’s the way it should be – a hare does a deal with a restaurant and if it means the best deal requires they have to be a waitress for the night to keep the cost down (and ensure all received a fair serving) then that’s the way it is. It sure as hell shouldn’t be the JM’s or Committee’s job. Same applies to on site Ons – so, bouquets to Grape Ape and Colonel Sanders. Copra did struggle to squeeze between the punters to collect your 25 bucks though.
For the Downs the President and beer wenches set themselves up at the front door – probably for a quick escape. The Hares were duly regaled for their efforts. Then, there was a repeat of last week – Wee Willy for being into bondage which got out of hand – with bruises to prove it (that was Kitty Litter last week). Then, Kitty Litter for going arse-over but then that’s a regular event like his ongoing love affair with public transport. A down for Jack the Ripper’s brother-in-law who admitted to being some sort of traitor – he joins the ranks of half our pollies. Finally, a drink for our hosts Joe and Steph (great Malay names those).
With a few prompts from the audience Pee Dub, who was back on humour-duty, told us the history of sex – who cares about the history. Tic Toc as always was able to embellish one about 3 naked snatches. Out of the blue XXXX jumped (see earlier about his ability to do that) to his feet brandishing a bit of a cardboard, which he’d found in his garage, upon which were written the Ten Commandments – now that is history.
Spread all over
Once again a large pack turned up for this the second last penultimate run of this Committee with Ayatollah haring and Jock the Sock lurking in the background abrogating responsibility at every opportunity. A cold night tonight; this was enough to keep Darwin Don and his (cold) shoulder at home in front of the telly.
The Bucket dwellers had heard that someone had planted themselves at the restaurant – the likely suspect being French Connection, so Bunny Trapper and the Hare quickly took tonight’s wine and beer to said establishment to no avail but Bunny stayed (and “guarded” the wine?) – Frenchie turned up late(r) and went to keep Bunny and the wine company.
Trail managed to spread itself all over Crows Nest, Nth Sydney, Cammeray and Naremburn with the runners as usual trying to add other surrounding suburbs as well. Copra was the first of the walkers back, (from the wrong direction) and exhausted, promptly sat down on the council provided chaise with a beer. At 7.40 the Hare was starting to worry about the trail length but then suddenly after 8.5kms Smiley led the runners in. Yep Smiley – can’t understand what went wrong there. There was all sorts of discussion at the Bucket about which lane trail did or didn’t go up, who found it or not and who did or didn’t call. As always you know who the culprits would be – Little Shit maybe? What’s more he had all of the answers, most of which were wrong so he was not impressed, but Ayatollah was stoked?? Visitor from the Larrikins, Bren Gun admitted to carrying “bus money” in case he got lost and needed a cab – cripes the guy has lived in Nth Sydney most of his life so oughta know where he is.
We adjourned to the On venue – an untried (by us) Spanish restaurant which is great for a little change of diet. The plebs jammed themselves into the main dining room whilst the Hares and the snobs seated themselves in the foyer. We shared large platters of paella – really the owner dish out portions so the animals wouldn’t scoff the lot. Although quite tasty I’m surprised there weren’t whinges about the value. Oh and there were churros with chocolate dip.
The announcements were made a little difficult by the split rooms but so long as the JM’s kept the beers coming things worked. The Hares were regaled for a great summer run – in Crowie???? Then proceedings came to a halt because Kitty Litter complained, that as a poor deaf bastard, he couldn’t hear over the music – fixed! Bren Gun, as a visitor, received a beer before Wee Willy was punished for using Google Maps on his phone to get back to the Bucket – and he lives local too! Then, a thank you drink to Ramez the Indian owner of the Spanish restaurant we were in. Finally, Kitty who was sporting mammoth chest bruising from when he undershot whilst hurdling an Armco fence (that’s probably what made him deaf too). The nurses at the RNSH had reported it to the cops because they thought it was domestic violence -baseball bat?
Pee Dub had scampered so it was Wee Willy humour to the rescue – DELETE. Tic Toc really tried to save the day with a priest’s hairdryer but I think things were too far gone.
More Manly Meanderings
This was a test run for the 50th Anniversary event next month. The first thing I got out of it was that if you intend to take your car- DON’T. After 20 mins of driving around every street in the vicinity, even into Manly and over to Little Manly trying to find a park, I opted to park in the spastic spot out front of the club to go find Superglue and ask him to second for me because I was about to head home. Luckily, Molly spotted a family about to flee so I was able to jam the truck into a motorcycle size parking spot. If you think Saturday in that area will be any better you are badly misinformed.
Trails in this part of the world pretty much cover all the same territory as have previous international events Sydney Hashes have conducted in this area – Little Manly, Collins Beach, Spring Cove, Quarantine Station, North Head, St Patrick’s College, Shelley Beach and a jaunt along Marine Parade to Fairy Bower. The TM had no idea where trail was going because he just joined in with the runners and followed them. Pee Dub had the “short” map so the real walkers were left to their own devices for the 7.4kms. Fox Face arrived late so had to be content with spending 45 mins on trail socialising with Centre Point and Pee Dub. E-Shit turned up at the Bucket in a full “cammo” outfit but it surely didn’t work because he stood out like dog’s balls – more on that later.
Tonight’s On was in the Manly 16Ft Skiff Club (not quite another trial run as we are using the Yachties next door for the 50th ) and the place was really hopping. Thank goodness we had our own room. As has happened before a number of hashers ordered their meal before being told Copra was coordinating the order – with the fare being a $10 steak. Some, including a certain butcher, were heard to pronounce it as the best steak they’d ever had – the best $10 steak maybe but far from the best steak. Others had fish so were not in a position to comment. By the way Jack the Ripper wore his hi-viz to dinner so he also stood out like dog’s balls.
Because he had to go to meet his dope growing cousin from Griffith, Pee Dub started the humour before our mash – it was an autobiography. Wee Willy gave us some reverse psychology and Tic Toc was telling jokes in private tonight.
Downs tonight for Hares “Mr How good is this” Music Man, and Maximus Minimus, also Hanoi Bill, not to commemorate his burnt down Commodore but to wish him well for his (muff) diving trip to Mauritius. Then we had the “Dickhead Down” to a Gomer Pyle-looking E-Shit who also tried to spew forth with some woeful humour before being shouted down and donating his rag-bag of hash gear to 777.
OUT and ABOUT- Anonymous Fake News
Smiley and Handshake have decided that it’s more important to go sailing at Hamilton Island than spend time joining with the Hash on the Monday runs…….this is normal for Smiley, and we understand he needs somebody that knows something about yachts and sailing to show him what to do, but for one of our new members who is only settling in to his new name it’s a bit much. Ordinarily Smiley would have imposed on somebody who is an Mb (Master of Bandages).
It was a courageous gesture by ‘Shake to spend a week with Smiley.
‘Shake even went to Target for a new set of underwear so as not to be upstaged during those stressful moments hauling in the sheets.
Anyway, they have arranged to get back to Sydney next Tuesday, missing yet another run and the British car day at Kings School on Sunday. Some people?
This week we were in the Centre of the Posh universe i.e. the suburb in which a trail would be a home game for the most number of Poshmen.
When trail starts at sea level you know there is going to be lotsa hills in this area – in fact lotsa stairs as the hares announced at the chalk talk. Overlaid on these hills was a trail in the shape of one of those 60’s cartoon dolly models – big at both ends and skinny in the middle. A loop around Cremorne Point for the boobs part, a loop around Curraghbeena Point for the bum part and very close to home for the waist part.
Even though Benny the Swede didn’t opt for the obvious short cut at the bridge over the park near home he got jaded with the second lot of hills and short-cut whilst the rest of the runners continued on to be home in 50 minutes. The walkers as usual dawdled in over 15mins depending on which trail they covered.
Duckweave arrived at the Bucket to announce that he missed the run because his wife had phoned him, when he was on his way to hash, to tell him to put the cat out as she was out playing golf with girlfriends and wouldn’t be home till late. There’s a whole bunch of things wrong with that! Or is that a “dog ate my homework” excuse? Darwin Don crept unnoticed into his car and had a little zizz…… whilst Moishe was prancing around shirtless just to prove it wasn’t a cold night. Little Shit was overheard trying to convince the TM that is was a crappy run?
We adjourned to the Mosman Rowers Club, where the good ship Simmo was moored out front on the marina, to partake of $15 steaks or fish and chips. Despite misgivings uttered by Centre Point about the potential of the quality, the food was good (so long as you were ok with a medium steak that is). It was noted later in the evening that the Hares had gathered a clan at their table and were indulging in meals off the a la carte menu.
Even though we had the place to ourselves the Downs were a subdued affair with drinks going to the Hares, Virginimus Illegitimus and Payling, and Darwin Don for returning safely from yet another 2 month long overseas jaunt. In breaking news we heard, that as we dined, Son of a Gun was receiving the second of his 2 new hips – geez and he’s a youngster.
Quick humour from Pee Dub – lovey, dovey crap from China.
Concrete Tilt Panel extravaganza
This seems to be a developing genre. The essential element is to find a money hungry café owner in an industrial area and convince him to stay open after 3pm to feed us at 8 o’clock. Consequently the trail tends to be lined with warehouse and factory concrete panel walls. The location of the Lane Cove West industrial estate is also gifted with quiet surrounding streets, parks and bushlands. As a devotee of this area in the past I’m inclined to agree with the TM’s assessment as a “great trail area”.
Wanker is always hesitant when it’s his turn to hare a trail but with Smiley’s assistance they managed to pull off a good one. The runners trail did extract itself from the concrete factories as it took the overhead pedestrian bridge across Epping Road for a loop with a little bush and some parks before heading south in the streets, and then around Blackman Park. Meanwhile the walkers were blessed with lotsa concrete. Pilko, carrying his Li-ion version of a miner’s lamp, directed all around the perimeter of a number of warehouses before Smiley, who had been tracking the walkers pack for some reason, directed us on to the streets at Mars Rd and On down Wood St where the both trails coincided again. Lloyd Rees Dr was beckoning for a short-cut – very judicious too. With trail a thousand feet lower elevation than the Bucket there was a giant stairway to heaven at the end to get the blood pumping.
The SCB’s naturally arrived back first then both runners and walkers converged on the beer pretty much together. Your Choice, still suffering from a lurgy, helped fill the Bucket as Smiley ran off insisting he had to put more markings on the stairway – duh! It was the only way home. Not sure that the Hares had planned this but the time to go to our cars to change into dinner regalia coincide with the ladies leaving the gym at the far end of the car park – nice for those who had parked there although I think Jock the Sock missed it. It was a home game for French Connection but he only arrived in time to dive into the café and grab a bottle of red like it was gunna be his last drink.
The On On venue was what you’d expect from a white collar industrial café – but Asian. Mr Wu insisted we all be seated then quickly served spring rolls and curry puffs – whence everything came to a screaming halt. I’ll have another beer thanks Duckweave. Seems that Asian weddings work the same as ours when the mains are served – that’s alternate serves – “would you like my sweet and sour pork because I’d prefer your beef in blackbean sauce?”.
Our lurgy infused President called order and handed Downs to the very slow-drinking Hares. Salt Petre got another year older and received a drink – it was the only reason he would venture out on a winter’s night.
Returnee, Wagga Rod was regaled, and he also informed the assembly that Relay 50 in 2018 would be in Lightning Ridge – “because all you retired bastards have got plenty of time to make the journey”. Grape Ape interjected saying that he canned the Relay in 2002 because no one wanted to go, upon which there was a call for a show of hands to attend the 50th and to a man the response was unanimous. In current news, Smiley noted that Hanoi Bill’s favourite Holden Commodore burnt down in Warringah Mall carpark, and E-Shit reckons he got out of bed this morning and had an epiphany, and then had another one in the shower. When this guy’s awake he’s more dangerous than Donald Trump. At this juncture Goon Show was seen to sneak away only to return 30 secs later when he’d discovered one needed a key card to get out of the carpark.
With Pee Dub away in China looking to clean some girlie’s teeth, humour was left to Tic Toc who admitted that even he recycled jokes and we got peanut butter smelling fingers.
Ancient Architecture and the world’s best ever Prawn Toast
Unlike most northern beaches tradies who won’t cross Roseville Bridge for any job, hares Lightning and Hanoi Bill were prepared to cross Middle Harbour to Castlecrag tonight to get the job done.
As we all know Castlecrag is the Walter Burley Griffin (he of Canberra fame) suburb. Walt and his missus used this part of Sydney to veg. out, and design a few shacks, after the trials of working with our pollies on the nation’s capital. Apparently the yank was a bit of a greenie so he designed plenty of walking trails and parks (20% of the area of the ‘burb) which means pretty good winter hashing territory. The trail for the walkers was contained very close to the start and kept the perambulators out for 40mins whilst the giant runners loop used all of those streets named after parts of a castle to get out to the end of the bluff. They did use part of boring old Knight Pl. (s’pose the knights were in the castle).
There were a few Bucket dwellers tonight, yours truly with a crook back and Virginus Illegitimus, looking a little dapper, with no excuse at all. S-Bends had a moan about the lack of cold in the beer – jeez the air temperature made up for it though. The runners didn’t all arrive in a race for a beer as usual, although with Cinders back there was some push. Payling again brought up the rear of the walkers doing the runners trail.
We haven’t been to this “chang-er” for some time and it has changed owners and name in that time. Wrapper had called in the previous Saturday to check it out for a little tete-a-tete and decided that it was way outside his meagre budget but apparently Lightning talked real money and managed to get a real deal.
The red-wine-magnet tablecloths and the bucket sized wine glasses were something of a risk. French Connection missed out on the first round of food and was heard to belly-ache which was fair enough because entre included those world’s best ever prawn toasts. In all a great Chinese meal.
A few Downs for the President to hand out tonight. The hares naturally, and it was noted that Hanoi’s section of the trail was arse-about. Baron von Drut had a birthday today (we noted he didn’t shout) so did Goon Show (he didn’t shout either), while Molly Meldrum and Little Shit flew under the birthday radar. Wrapper and Payling got punished for spillage – told you those glasses and the linen were risky. Finally, E-Shit, just back from wooden-spooning the Laser World Masters and surprisingly there was no show and tell (of the Spoon).
Looks like I have to change the “Trash” template as once again Jack the Ripper was first up with a joke as it seems that at week 44 of this current Committee Pee Dub has run out of humour. JTR had a stroke with a broken finger. As usual Tic Toc and his big family were out again and this time there were no Suckers and Fuckers in the good ole USA.
It should be noted that Prince Phil has retired this week, and as decreed by the President at Run 2602 on May 8th at Concord he shall be from now on be known as Handshake.
MORE MOOCHING IN MANLY
At 18:23 outside the North Steyne Surf Club the Trailmaster turned to acting scribe and remarked on the small number of Hashman present (busy watching the tight little bums running up and down the esplanade) however by 18:29 the numbers had swelled to usual 40 odd and the hares breathed a sigh of relief; the possibility of them paying for 20 odd uneaten meals now not an issue.
So at 18:32 without any comment from the hares regarding the run the pack set off towards Fairy Bower following the Trailmaster, who appeared to be setting the run as he went; not a good sign. As it transpired the run did not appear to have one check so the fairly long run along the esplanade to Fairy Bower soon had the pack strung out. So much so that the walkers/runners divide at the Bower Café gave those who had had enough the chance to turn around and walk back along the flat whilst the runners did a loop that would bring them back to the remainder of the walkers in Bower Street.
The only option now was to go uphill away from the beach and take the trail into the grounds of the Cardinal’s Palace to meander through the opulent residential suburb on top of the hill. After a scramble through a bit of bush the trail came out at the oval and followed the track leading to Darley Road. Arriving at Manly Hospital there was a sigh of relief from the runners as it would now be downhill all the way home, it was just a matter of working out which way the trail went.
Those in the know opted to turn left half way down the hill into Marshall Street, right into Osbourne Road and back to the Manly Surf Club for the run home along the esplanade to the bucket. Being a short run the front runners had plenty of running left in them and decided to made it a race to the bucket. Moishe however misjudged the distance and took off too early only to run out of steam and be passed by the wilier speedsters.
The run was so short (35 minutes), without checks and without incident that there were murmurings of going round again but the lure of the bucket was too strong and the chance of an early dinner beckoned. However the distance must have been just right for the walkers as they dawdled in around the 55 minute mark and were happy with that.
The On On at the Honolulu Grille was hosted as usual by the Moochers and the Mamma San in her usual unflustered way, ably assisted by her attractive waitresses, kept the food coming until even Copra was full.
Down downs were given to the hares whose age does not seem to weary them, Centrepoint for spilling the communion wine, Hanoi Bills love child and of course the restaurant staff.
Humour was a little light on with the back-up crew of Dr Jekyll and Hanoi Bill doing their best to make up for the loss of Pee Dub – hors de combat (went home early), Wee Willy – absent and Tic Toc – impotent.
It was good to see Jungle Jim at the On On, and report that JTR is recovering well from pneumonia.
You’ll just have to wait another year
Tonight’s run was mooted as the 20th Anniversary version of the Jack Trapper/Bunny the Ripper extravaganza. Unfortunately JTR opted for a week under medical supervision (Simmo said rusty pacemaker from spending too much time in the deep blue sea) so in fact we had V19.50, or, with Superglue stepping up to the plate to co-hare, in reality it became the Super Bunny Run V1.00.
I’m assuming that Superglue set this real estate stroll as we all know that Bunny Trapper wouldn’t walk to the corner. The trail was a big Loop’o’Longueville with a touch of bush for variety. By using their superior hashing skills the SCB’s were able keep just inside of the loop trail to arrive at the Bucket just ahead of the runners and the walkers – The Arbitrator just walked from the bus stop.
The last time we came to the Diddy, Centrepoint and Jungle Jim’s local, we were served Indian but tonight it was to be pasta. As an aside I noted that the “locals” received privileged parking. And what a feed of pasta it was – 3 different brews with lashings of fillings in the sauces – rabbit food as well if you were so inclined. The word on the grape vine was that S Bends was too embarrassed to partake. Krudd was busy ferrying the trays of food from the kitchen to the serving table and El Presidente` was offering table service, and there was a great range of beers and wine to top it all off.
Your Choice was already on his feet (see previous) so called order. Downs tonight were short and sweet – the Hares and to Grape Ape for services to King and Cuntry.
With ace joke-teller Pee Dub AWOL tonight, the back –up crew were called upon. Wee Willy with one about cabbies and hookers or was that hookers and cabbies. S Bends pleaded to be allowed to tell a short tale but it soon descended into long-winded territory and was both healthy and moralistic. Tic Toc finished off with rabbits, big tits and appliances – Super Bunny in a fridge. Then Kitty Litter jumped to his feet to promote the Harriettes 2000th but was drowned out for being a week too early.
So we waited for dessert. All of a sudden the “deserter members” streamed back in the front door as the Sticky Date pud and a ice cream was served up. It has to be one of the better restaurant meals we’ve had especially since most went home with seconds of both main and dessert.
SAM(E) SING BUT DIFFERENT
Sometimes yer just gotta follow the food. Jeez!
What can you say about a run in Northbridge other than we’ve been here before but we weren’t going to the pub for the On.
On the plus side tonight there was no public transport, and no Opal Card required. So, we got the golf course (again), the sailing club (again), Bob Hawke’s house (again), we got close to Wrapper’s house, and courtesy of co-hare Lost Patrol the TM got a computer generated and laminated map that Plunger thought was orgasmic.
Hare Duckweave was heard to comment that he’d added about 5kms into the trail for the runners but at the Bucket Virginus Illegitimus reckoned the whole runners trail was only 5kms which couldabin correct because the usual FRB’s were in after 44 minutes. The rest of the Pack straggled into the Bucket between the 2 and 3 beer mark. Payling was on tonight – he figured if he was going to cough and splutter his way around a hash trail it may as well be one close to home. Also good to see Mash back in the fold after he single-handedly short-circuiting all of South Australia when his you beaut computer turned all of his pool filters on, and Chastity Belt who dragged himself away from his little Indonesian “amah” in Hong Kong to grace us with his presence.
As I mentioned tonight’s On was not to be at the Northbridge pub with its slick(sic) bistro service but at Sam et Sing’s Laksa House. In the months since we graced this establishment in its previous incarnation, where we would be seated in an arcade in Crowie, Duckweave has been sleuthing around to find out where Sam went to after the building was flattened – looks like it’s Northbridge but shit I think he displaced the Little Dumpling. Now we all sit in a restaurant unless your disturbed little mind thought that the tables outside in the cold were a good idea. Menu is the sam(e) – chicken laksa and as usual a good one although E Shit thought the serving was larger than before. That comment came between slurps as he drank the dregs from his bowl….. and yes lychees and ice cream for dessert.
As announcement time was coming around Jack the Ripper jumped to his feet to announce his next week’s run and buggered the whole order of proceedings – that was worthy of a Down Mr President. I’m thinking that that really put the President off his game because after the Hares were duly recognised he forgot the returnee until after the humour.
There needs to be a Royal Commission into some of the humour as S Bends’ and Pee Dub’s jokes were out of last millennium. Duckweave questioned the quality of the Census data. Tic Toc told a Chinese Jewish joke gliding to within a bee’s dick of offending the chef – Same Ting.
With a glass of red in one hand and a beer in the other Chastity received a returnees Down and was asked to tell a joke; a request he then flick passed to Capt Bligh who gave nothing other than a blank look.
Buy, Buy your American Pie
Tonight there was real concern amongst the Posh literati as to how your Scribe was going to write this one up. Hmmmm…… well.
Yer gotta say this run had everything, and consequently there was potential for everything to go arse-up. The elements – 1. Big Promo (because all of Nth America was having a birthday – we have our birthday in January so its like Xmas in July), 2. Early start, 3. Public transport to the trail start, 4. City trail in arcades, 5. Lots of officeworker punters to deal with, 6. Bucket in city park in the middle of the State bureaucratic zone, 7.On On in a funky Burger Bar, 8. Public transport back to our cars.
So, let us dissect these elements. The hares were advised not to send out their final promo flyer until Monday because it’s now well known that nobody checks the run details till then. When it’s a large blurb there is a tendency for some amongst us to read selective parts of the blurb – Mr Neat only picked up on “meet at Garland Rd” so was not prepared for anything else including bring your Opal Card, and Grape Ape picked up on “Macquarie Place Park, Memorial Obelisk, Cnr. Loftus & Bridge Sts, CBD” which is where he turned up ready to start. 28 hashers turned up at 6pm – not bad. The M40 turned up on time at the designated bus stop and whisked us down the freeway to Wynyard – a tick for that one. Trail in city arcades, and yep the enthusiastic building cleaners were washing arrows off as fast as Tic Toc put chalk to granite which required the hare to direct the pack until we got thru Wynyard Station and on our way to Barangaroo – always an area fraught with danger. The hordes of workers stampeding towards the station had us battling for stair and escalator space – bet the hares didn’t reccy the trail at this time of night? As 777, Pee Dub, Jack the Ripper and your scribe were doing a little superior hashing around the back of Darling Harbour JTR commented, quite rightly “that its only ever the Cock-ups which are remembered and talked about”. No grief at the Bucket although Capt. Bligh was on tenterhooks as his car, containing all our bags, was parked in a “Govt. vehicles only” car space. Bar Luca, the funky burger joint? As some of us finished at the Bucket we opted to get out of the cold and headed to the On – walked in to find 1 table available to us (the others were booked after 8) and fronted the bar to buy a $9 beer (which is double what I pay at the Bayview in Happy Hour). Within seconds the “alternative advice” walks in the door to say that there would be 2 beers included with our $25 burger. That’s 3 beers to chat to the RBT about on the way home and the barman was not interested in substituting 1 other any beer for the 2 Buds – Fuck! $9 beer and $25 burger and apparently there was a choice. When your Scribe went to the bar the staff were only counting heads and multiplying by 2 to provide beers – no discussion of alternatives burgers. The Pecan and Caramel slice provided by the hares was tasty and plentiful. So the On was only a fashion parade. We had Tic “Indiana Jones” Toc, Capt “I think he was going to be Capt America” Bligh, Flying “Davey Crockett” Scotsman, Donald “Smiley” Trump, “I eat Beaver” Simmo, Kitty “Gordie Howe” Litter who had used his wife’s bra padding to pack out his shirt, E “America’s Cup” Shit, Prince “Stars and Stripes” Phil, W “Yogi Bear” C, and Yackitty “Lumber Jack” Yak to name a few.
After much discussion as to whether we were catching the 343 or 373 back to our cars someone said the bus leaves Gresham St in 5 and everybody bolted out the door. We did, however, manage to entertain some of the other passengers on the return trip.
Wombat may have been the only Poshman to get real enjoyment out of Canada’s Birthday.
So, you make up your own mind.