You know summer is well and truly around the corner when masses of nubile young women take to the streets in the early evening, running, whilst wearing very little. Consequently its around this time that the reported instances of young male drivers having accidents due to "sun strike" skyrockets. Now I've heard firm, perky nungas called a lot of things in my time but 'sun strike' is a new one on me too.
Not that all the running eye candy on show at this time of year is solely for the benefit of the heterosexual man. I passed a particularly buff individual who was so cut I was tempted to pull over and offer him the box of plasters form the medical kit in the boot. He was running with his top off, not because it was hot enough too, just because he could. See running at this time of year is not so much about getting fit as it is 'me me me, look the fuck at me'!
It's also about now that we non runners dust of the barbecue and begin the enjoyable task of chiselling off the crud that has been caked on the hot plate since the last time we used it. We did ours on the weekend, although admittedly Mrs ClubDes did ours - I was out running with my top off.
We had some friends over and talk eventually turned to politics like it does in election year, the only time anyone in this country talk’s politics. Even then the discussion was decidedly un-political in that we focused on personality, not policy. Why is it that here in NZ we are more concerned with who is coaching the All Blacks than whom is running the country?
National seem destined to win and would have to do something monumentally stupid to fuck it up. Still this is politics, there's plenty of time for that to happen. They all have that smug bastard look about them and have even started talking about life after they've won the election. Now if there's one thing I hate it's a poor winner.
Now I'm not advocating one party over another - I lament the fact that we are remarkably devoid of plausible political alternatives in this country - but I hate the thought of one pack of wankers inheriting a victory that they never really earnt simply because they're offering the biggest bribe. Is 'who's going to give me the best tax cut' really a responsible way to choose your next government?!
One of my social study teachers ran a class election back in my college days. Isn't it weird how all the male social study teachers were strangely effeminate? On recollection all of ours were real pink jersey wearing types and my god did we roast them for it. None of them ever had any control over the class and Bruiser and I would take to playing games like who could call out the rudest word without getting caught, or the natural progression from that game, who could summon the teach with the rudest name. The art of it was to be just loud enough for him to know that you were calling him yet at the same time stifling the delivery just enough to muffle the fact that you had just called him 'greatbighardcock'.
Anyhoo, the whole class election thing really kicked off. I led the B'Stard Party, so named after a Rik Mayall character on TV at the time. Seeing as how I had the biggest chopper I naturally had all the lads behind me. Or it could have been that our campaign was built on the promise that we'd take the party logo stickers off the pink bits of the Penthouse centrefolds that doubled as our party posters. Yeah it might've been that. We campaigned for shorter skirts on the girls and longer lunchtimes, you know, standard stuff. The girls had split into two cliques and as is always the case when that happens with sheilas, shit started getting personal.
After an initial ballot we boys just about had the numbers to rule alone, but not quite. The bigger of the girls cliques, lead by the chick with the biggest mouth funnily enough, were a close second, close enough to rule out the other clique. Because neither side had enough to rule outright we had another ballot, one that 'ol bigmouth thought she'd win easily because the girls would side with her in a show of vaginal solidarity.
Only she thought wrong. Her slagging off the other clique came back to haunt her and she went down in flames and being the graceful loser she was - this was the same girl that would fake debilitating injuries in the final stage of every 100 meter race she wasn't winning on every athletics day - packed a sook and never spoke to me again.
The irony is that same girl tried to add me as a friend on Facebook the other day. My response? Delete! Oh and we removed the party logo stickers too. What can I say? We were a political party that stuck by its pre election promises....
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