The Sydney Majoring Hareld ____________
First Run 1967 O N O N . A L W A Y S . Number 2428 January 13, 2014
FILM REVIEW JANUARY 13 / TERREY HILLS / KU-RING-GAI / PETIT MERDE et VOTRE CHOIX. ★★★★✰
6:15 to Y’umor..“TIME WAITS FOR ONE MAN”
Never in the field of Posh history was so much owed to so many by so few. Not only for the mixing of metaphors, but also for the blood, toil, tears and sweat devoted to fighting pesky creatures on the beaches of Shit Creek, and for finding their finest sour, Major “Disaster” Disaster.
This story begins with President Music’s nepotic brother, Captain Scott Wilson getting the highly-paid gig to transport 50 Poshmen in his armoured personnel carrier stagecoach at 6:15 pm (as advertised, but not prominently enough for some) to the real start: the corner of Booralie and Booligal Roads (eh?) for the walkers, among them Centrepoint, God Knows, heading off on a 4.52 jaunt. Then comes Capt Scott’s second drop, the corner of Mallawa Road and Bulara Street…for 30 more athletes, including such “walkers” as Foxface, Virginus, and..wait for it,Major Disaster. Well, all accept Formerly Last Card Louis, and Ayatollah who drive in a commandeered staff car from Checkpoint Charlie, at the cnr of Liberator General San Martin Drive and McCarrs Road, fast and furiously to catch up to our runaway coach. Then there is you-can-stick-the-whole-thing-up-yr-arse Pedantic, with, “Ah I love the smell of Aerogard diethyltouamide in the evening”.
Now what the troops needed to know, but which is kept from them, is that the Hares, Petit Merde and Votre Choix, in recceing this special effort had encountered almost insurmountable difficulties, eg there are no taps with town water in this territory (Tony Abbott had promised taps leading up to the election, but this was only a promise, and nobody was willing to faucet). The second obstacle was that the magnetic field resulting from a thunderous meteorite strike 93,107,063 years ago had left the area communications-kaput..even if anyone bothered to carry a phone. This also interfered with the Hares’ compass and sextant. The third was this is Sandfly Capital of the World. These pesky critters will gnaw on the largest organ of a Poshman’s body (the skin, naughty), even though it be tired, wrinkly and leathery, and remarkably, draw blood. And then there are the mangroves swampcrocs, not a worry unless you planned to cross Smiths aka Shit Creek. The fifth obstacle, man-made, was the Hares’ use of only 18 rolls of one-ply Quilton toilet tissue, 23 kilos of Home Brand self-raising flour, and a dunny-sized wall of Gyprock, clearly insufficient as we soon learn.
Combined, these have the effect of sharpening the skills of such mercenaries as JTR, Payling, Jock, and Bambi (visiting from Costa Rica, where this kind of terrain is like Wigglestown in a Big Red Car). After a lemming start the wrong way (there’s that meterorite at work for you), Goon, Scots, Toothfairy, and Sheepdip plunge into the valley of doom, together with cameo appearing, Tweety Pie, bronzed (hair that is) and athletic. As does Major Disaster. Slipping and sliding down massive boulders Trailmaster Moishe (conditions apply) offers his expertise toYakkity, Scud and Wrappa who all decline with thanks. Major Disaster is a different matter.
The Major suggests, perfectly politely, to the TM that he stick his toilet paper up his. With equal courtesy, TM Moishe gathers up several kilos of the carefully-laid crap paper and races off into the gathering darkness, thus removing any trace of further trail, with a cunning plan to use it again as part of his arsenal. Now free of busybodies Major spends some time seeking the Bridge (that, the Major does not realise had been blown up in the second last reel). He then seeks an abandoned creek dinghy, ripping off the E-Shit-winged foils, since Shit Creek is only groin deep, and finds a swamp-water croc guarding it (see pic). All this takes some time, and around 10pm the Major decides to climb onto a boulder with a covering that you could lichen to moss, and begins to think (see pic). And think. And think. Until at last at midnight, three musketeers , Cinders, Plungers, and Scoters, who are out enjoying a Hobbit through Middle Earth, come upon the thinker.
Meanwhile back at Booralie Road, Troopers Lightning and Choice are retracing the earlier activity with the aim to meet and shake hands with the musketeers, oh and also those of the missing Major, dead or alive. At last the thinker is located starving, de-hydrated and a smorgasbord (Swedish for eat as much as you can till you’re bored) for a million insatiable sandflies. Since it is a teensy bit late the thinker agrees to accompany the three wise men back to the OnOn site where Major can view the area where a splendid meal of Pilko-plumped mystery bags, rat‘n’rodent-touilli, Centrepoint-mashed pomme de terre, and Your Choice of salade du fruiie avec glace, or not, all served with grace by Kitty, Jungle, Baron and Wank, and splendid beverages by Goonshow, had been enjoyed by everyone else several hours before. Major “Disaster” Disaster is also enthralled to hear stories of the musical tribute to the King (no not King Arthur on this occasion, and not Jesus, but the King), featuring Centrepoint, Jungle, Kitty, Scud and TToc under the musical direction of Presidential Music who has an uncanny resemblance to the King, now 79 years old. He also learns of the Posh tribute to Prophet Muhammad upon his birthday, Mawlid-al Nabi. “Muhammad meets San Martin at McCarrs thanks to Merde et Choix..That’s Alright Mama,” murmurs Major DD to himself, before racing to his ever-faithful Jaguar and hightailing it into the moonset (it now being well into the next morning). Runners traverse 7.54km, elevation drop 239 metres and rise of 220 metres. For MDD, double these statistics.
POST MORTEM (Well, not literally).
From: Richard Watters [mailto:firstname.lastname@example.org]
Sent: Tuesday, 14 January 2014 7:59 AM
To: ‘david lyon’; ‘Graham Robinson’; Graham Johnson
Subject: DEDICATION BEYOND THE CALL OF DUTY
BUT FOR YOUR DEDICATION TO PLUNGE INTO “BOOSH”, AND RESCUE A FORLORN SOUL WHO ONCE AGAIN HAD LOST HIS WAY, I WOULD STILL BE OUT THERE…SOME WHERE. I THOUGHT AS YOU GOT OLDER, YOU MELLOWED, AS I APPROACH EIGHTY-TWO YEARS OF AGE, I AM STILL WAITING.
GENTLEMEN I AM GREAT INDEBTED TO YOU.
Downdown’s were awarded to Pilko for preparing the world’s deepest touilli, Kitty, Bambi for making his third visit to us, and looking after theTravelling Hashberries (I know, spelling) in San Jose, Hares Little Shit and Our Choice, and Payling.