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Run
#1193 Saturday, May 13th
2000
Hare:
The Senator Co-Hares: Huge-O and Suffle
ANALOGOUS
COCK-UPS
I have
in front of me as inspiration not Erato and her
fellow Muses, but a small pharmaceutical container
labelled 'Guarana', purchased in Rio de Janeiro.
Most of the label information is in Greek script
- an alphabet favoured by English public school
teachers, rocket scientists, the Book of Revelation,
Greeks of course, and apparently Brazilian chemists.
The manufacturer however is 'Vitas Hervas', which
even with my limited knowledge of Iberian argot
can be rendered into English as 'Herbalife'. I know
this outfit because its adjacent Bangkok office
employs spotty backpackers who hover unsuccessfully
around my female staff and peddle dodgy alternative
medicines with all the proselytizing zeal of an
American TV evangelist.
Whoever they are, they do seem to have produced
a winner in this instance. For these little mud-coloured
gelatin capsules contain the substance employed
by the Gallic victor ludorum whose sexual athletics
were feted and envied in Saturday's circle. I can
reveal that it is Guarana which enabled him to pull
and service two stunners from Nana Disco, pop back
for a third one, and then a fourth for dessert.
And all this in the space of three small hours.
So what's all this got to do with marine economics
I hear you ask? Simple, both Guarana and the Huge-O/Senator
combo leave you in the same condition. I.e. completely
flucked.
What I've been trying to do is minimize reference
to the monumentally less enjoyable of the two activities,
on the shaky grounds that the hares are nice guys
really and I may want to touch them for a purple
one some time.
However, one has to pay lip-service to the run.
The Guarana analogy is valid, because I suspect
that both it and the hares' fuel tanks contain amyl
nitrate, which as any other Rocker-turned-hippy
will know is a liquid added to fuel to improve its
ignition quality, and also inhaled to heighten sexual
pleasure.
Laying a run like this is simple:
-
You
do your recce in the mid-eighties when you're
fit and slim (all things are relative), and
Nong Ngoo Hao is as developed as the Kra Canal.
-
You
wait a decade or two till your girth and your
imagination have compensated for one another,
bulldozers have flattened the area, and there
are roads everywhere.
-
You
drive along a concrete road, turn left along
a laterite road, left into another laterite
road, and oblong it off for symmetry with a
left turn into a concrete road.
-
Whilst
exerting yourself thus, you get Suffle to lob
paper out of the window, resting his arm between
forward checks, or token backchecks where side
roads are wide enough for vehicular access.
-
You
bribe Suffle, whose mother-in-law's iron regime
has staved off obesity (relativity again), to
lay the irritating but brief green bit you need
to shorten it. You reassure him that it's another
straight line so he can't get lost, and while
he's at it he may as well lob in another forward
check for good measure.
-
You
explain subsequently and truthfully that there
were no roads there when you recce'd it.
-
You
get everyone suitably replete and ratarsed at
their favourite Moo Yim so they forget about
the whole affair.
-
You
hope and pray you don't get me as Scribe.
But
you do
On
On!
Ringworm
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