I got the bus with the rest of the monkey's and arrived at the A site in the middle of the jungle somewhere, not sure where we are as I only know Soi 6,7,8 and Walking Street. Hares GI Joe and Dizzy greet the poor sod's who are about to do this fucking marathon monkey.
GM Sheik Me Me calls the circle and begins to carry on as he does, we're just luck that a plane goes overhead and drowns out half the shit he was saying. Paper white, checks are orange, false checks, back checks, 360 checks, checks to the left, checks to the right and you front running bastards BREAK THE CHECKS so Bam Bam can get to the beers.
Run starts with runners off paper in the first 5 minutes but 15 minutes later we find paper again and the fun begins. Endless pineapple fields and rubber trees, water crossings and mud and shit but on we go thinking it will only be a maximum of 90 minutes to drinks.
90 minutes later I'm sure the drink stop is just around the next corner but it's fucking not and curse those fucking hares for another 30 minutes, CUNTS!!!! Drinks and chocolates for me and a few other old farts after a bit over 2 hours. 20 minute rest then off we go and once again I'm pretty sure it will only be about an hour or so as usual. How fucking wrong can you be, those two cunts set another double Sunday Jungle Run for the second part.
I heard GI Joe tell someone it was another 10km but thought he was joking. 20 minutes into the B to C run as we crawl through the jungle, water, mud and shit Arseaholic goes down like he'd been shot and Me Me rushes to his aid and says "hey Dude you ok "?
I thought he called Me Me a cunt a few times but my mistake he apparently said cramp, it was the accent that threw me. Me Me had his legs in the air before he knew it, it was as though he had done this many times before with other men. Anyway he's back on his feet after a good stretch and on on we go.
The next victim of the run is Wanking who is struck down by multiple cramps but I've been medically trained to the highest standard and after discussion with Tampax and Try a Fuck we reckon Wanking is suffering from severe menstrual cramps and he's just lucky we had Tampax with us. I tamper with his hamstrings for a few minutes and then decide with Try A Fuck that it's getting dark and we should leave Tampax and Wanking here and go for help, well that's what we told them we just didn't want to be crawling through the jungle at night.
The 'Can't Do Don't Do' motto had kicked in and by that time Arseaholic had caught up and we left them to fend for themselves.
More river crossings and cramps, rubber tree plantations and unbroken checks "Break the checks you FFRB's" but my keen sense of direction soon finds the FT's so I immediately know it's not that way and we continue in the opposite direction. Fuck me this is taking forever and the sun is going down, I'm too scared to look at my watch.
Try A Fuck finally yells "On On there's the fucken bus" and we start to run the last 500 metres wondering how the fuck Tampax and Wanking are going to survive the night in the jungle when the cripple and his nurse walk along the road ahead of us. A fucking miracle.
I look around the circle of seated athletes and think what a lot of short cutting cunts, how the fuck did Bam Bam get here? Was there a bus service? We were ahead of him hours ago and now he's sitting down with a beer in his hand looking like he'd been for a stroll through Carrefour.
My finish time was a respectable 5 hours and 10 minutes however Lord Lucan and Rumpled Foreskin had taken one of Lord Lucan's famous long way, Wrong Way round in the opposite direction short cuts and have still not arrived. He said he knows this area like the back of his hand, but it now seems like he's been using the front of his hand too much and it has affected his vision and sense of direction.
Dizzy gets a phone call from Lord Lucan who is now in a village in Buriram and drives off to get them and they get back in an almost record time of 6 hours 30 minutes, well done boys.
The rehydration process begins, the brain cells start to die, the bullshit stories start about the run. I thought the run was a couple of hours too long, but the more I drank the better the run got, by the end of the evening it was the best run I had ever been on and wasn't long enough.
Great food, a typical Aussie Bar B Q, good man food and plenty for everyone, even some bangers left for the bus ride home.
Best run I've been on. Ah fuck I just dropped my beer. No more for me, 12 Tigers seems to be my limit now that I'm in my late thirties??
There is a new vision test for Jungle Monkey runners. Please read the next line,
* thepenisinmymouth *
Did you read the pen is in my mouth? You fucken lying cocksuckers. No poofters!
ODE TO FRONT RUNNERS.
"The cunts at the front? Who fucken cares;
they get iced with the noisy French and the hares.
It's the old cunts at the back, using cunning and skills
by short cutting fields and avoiding the hills.
When we hear "CHECKING AHEAD" we slow to a crawl,
Some go in reverse and wait for the call
and when we hear On On you wankers, we still hesitate,
it could be an FT? fuckem lets wait.
And when the trail is finally found,
fuck running through shit, we stick to firm ground,
because I've just washed my shoes and wearing new kit
so no way I'm chasing front runners through shit.
We short cut through farms and fires and fields of smoke
and avoid water like a pom avoids soap.
We take motorbike taxis and baht buses
and leave you front running cunts in the bush
You can find the paper, the checks and FT's
and come crawling into the A site
on your fucken hands and your knees.
Because by the time you come running in to our cheers,
we don't give a fuck who won, we've drunk all the beers"
On On
Rear Gunner
