What a run. Truly can’t Fawlt it!

Up through Kubur Kassim, round particularly sweet-smelling drains, snaking through the streets of Siglap, and taking on the best of East Coast’s hills. Most of us, that is… Frozen Stiff and Where’s The Beef were shocked and dismayed to discover that the route did in fact go up Cherry Picker’s Hill, with their knowing looks of “Ha, what fools, that’s obviously a t-check” quickly displaced by moans and groans as they shuffled on up.

I have to admit, their suspicions of yet another t-check were well founded, given the merciless succession of T’s the front-runners were gifted with. For runners who were keen enough to suck in their pouches and take on the most devious of them all, we were rewarded with Swiss Itch’s chants of “Which Harriet ate all the pies”. No, this wasnt a continuation of the world cup festivities: this was in fact him speculating as to who wouldn’t be able to make the tight squeeze.

As ever, the circle was lively, and made livelier still with a 30-min late appearnance of a London hasher, beer in hand, shocked to hear that the run had almost finished (thanks for joining us, Fufbar). Return of the fuck me shoes, but sadly no reappearance of our favourite gadgets (We’re looking at you, Hayley + bf !!)

A huge massive thank you to our lovely Hares Fawlty Towers and Fawlty Bush. What a brilliant run – youre definitely going out with a bang! Farewell to you both, and best of luck.

On on! 🦶🦶🦶🦶

(Gentle disclaimer: for any runners scandalised by mutterings of “fuck a papa” drifting over from FCU and Swanker’s conversation – Ive been asked to pass on the message that this was just an “Intro to Maori” that was overheard…. the jury’s still out on this one).