Run #327: The French Connection Correction

What could only be described as an absolute French cock-up started appropriately right outside the latrines; it was a total shit show from that point onward. Thanks to some spectacularly abysmal trail marking by our resident Hare, Pepe, who blamed the cleaners for this, the runners actually had to deploy basic logic and local knowledge just to navigate their way to the first drink stop. Once the pack arrived, the real tragedy unfolded. Complaints immediately flew thick and fast regarding the watered-down Guinness and wildly overpriced beer. This prompted Derrolicked my Balls fresh off a nazi salute (fascist) to stage a dramatic protest; yelling “Sacre Bleu!” before clumsily knocking half his brew all over the table. Brilliant execution there, mate.
From there, we embarked on a short ramble – about as short as France’s prospects in the World Cup – leading us straight to the next drink stop at Cowboys. Naturally, thoughts quickly turned to sniffing the mechanical bull; after all, this was a highly sophisticated French affair and Oysters were on the menu.
Eventually, everyone drifted back for the On Afters, where the real classiness shone through. A lovely pink coq was presented to the circle and our Grand Master, Pepe Le Spew, looked far too comfortable sucking on it. Not to be outdone, WTFAI attempted a bit of a DIY enema; presumably because he is thoroughly stretched out after his prior professional anal exploration (calm down, it was done in a proper clinical environment, not Tom Tate’s office). A sneaky bottle of Tequila suddenly materialised and the charges grew predictably unhinged.
We had hashers snorting lines of coq, sorry coke, I mean salt and frantically sucking on lemons. In typical french food custom where you get less for paying more – Dinner was a minimalist culinary experience; absolutely no snacks and zero dessert, but we did get treated to a fine dish of Coq-and-Rice. The usual round of charges and relentless name-calling followed. The highlight of the evening goes to the absolute genius who walked out mid-circle, returned a few minutes later and immediately charged the Sergeant for failing to notice he had left in the first place. Talk about elite-level dobbing; absolutely magnificent stuff.

See ewes next week
OnOn