Editor’s warning: The Kam Tin “aroma” the writer cites early in this report is clearly hallucinatory; our scribe’s version of events peopled with all sorts of mysterious characters. If you don’t want your head messed with, leave now.

There Again and Back

By Screwless

This was the second N2TH3 run I’ve attended and ’twas a jolly little number lain by Fartypants and his “mystery returnee”, who, as it turned out, was the not so mysterious Cock Of The South, who’d slunk back for reasons undeclared; but one that suspects the allure of big men playing with odd shaped balls may have something to do with it.

The start was at the fragrant Kat Hing Wai playground, a delightful spot beneath the glowering walls of the er… walled village; the air pregnant with the aroma of suppressed violence and racial tension. Upon arrival I found Lost at Sea* seemingly rummaging through a sack of old clothes, which I presumed he’d nicked from the skip round the back of the nearby Salvation Army Hostel. It was only when said bag of jumble spoke that I realised it was, in fact, Big Moany in his grandfather’s socks and footie bags. The rummaging bit was seemingly a trick of the light.

The pack of hounds trickled in, all well after the 7:30 start time, eventually meandering off to do the run at a bit before eight. The route ran (or strolled in my case) up to Wellcome, then left and under the bypass to an immediate and cunning right up the cycle path. This confused the “But we never go that way” pack, who carried straight on over the nullah as per usual. We then followed the bypass and turned left through Tai Kong Po Village, heading towards hills and the smell of pig shit. Past the pigs we climbed up to a lovely little contour path above the pig farms leading out to a little ridge with splendid views. A lovely bit of the run, which I presume was only included by accident. “I can see the stars!” cried a tearful and emotionally vulnerable Velcro, distraught at the thought of her husband’s imminent return from Indonesia.

On down the ridge, back into what passes in Kam Tin for civilisation, then heading west past Kam Tin Country Club (who wouldn’t let us in as we weren’t wearing ties), through the historic and interesting village of Shui Mei Tsuen (missing all the historic and interesting bits) and thence back to Kam Tin.

The trail was parsimoniously marked, I’ve seen more flour dusted on a loaf of bread. But no one complained other than Eunuch who was, as a consequence, roundly pilloried for his masturbatory tendencies.

The usual circle shenanigans ensued, with Salesman taking the lead. It was however somewhat delayed as all the beer had been drunk by the FRBs, the swines. Once enbeered, Salesman demonstrated his new hygienic down-down technique of standing on a bench and pouring said down-downs into mouths from a height. No more dirty cups for the N2TH3!

Down downs various were issued: Catch Of The Day for distracting the boys with her underwear and akimbo poses, Mango Groove for still having silly hair, Cock Of The South for having the temerity to turn up, Lost At Sea** for beer crimes and breaking the esky, Eunuch for moaning.

Shenanigans over, most repaired to the daipaidong where a special alfresco soundproof booth had been constructed to stop us upsetting the natives. The staff were all very happy to see me as I told them you owed me money and would be paying off my outstanding beer and noodle bill. Much beer was consumed and some top food delivered. Sweet and sour fish, veggies with dried fish, meat with nuts and celery, deep fried squid, chow fan and beef and black pepper sauce combo, all inspired. Well done Catch Of The Day for the menu choices, $55 dollar a head if memory serves.

*Skinny cove, somewhat balding with big specs. Always smiling. Somewhat clipped accent; always expect him to end each sentence with a “What what”.

** if it be he; may be someone else entirely.