Tuesday, 6 October 2009

The Non-Running Man.

Waking up is the biggest drag in this awful, awful life. I've woke up hundreds of times but it's never been enjoyable. On Sunday I was tricked into waking up and going to something so utterly un-me it might as well have been a meat-eating football match sponsored by Top Gear. It was called the Lewisham Fun Run.

Lewisham? Fun? A run? Fun? Why are these words together? I was woken at 9am to shuffle all the way to a park in Beckenham to watch an eye-insult of massively half-arsed proportions. Firstly, I went to the wrong park. You might think that was my fault. It wasn't. It was God's. And the fucker who made TWO Beckenham Parks. I went to the wrong one which I later discovered was the right one for me.

Once I finally got there I was told by a boring man in a yellow coat with the words BORING MAN written on it that I wasn't allowed to have my dog off the lead. It's a park. Park's are for dogs. Park's are NOT for dicks who want to take over a park for an entire morning to celebrate sport, the Devil's pastime. Of course, this abuse of a morning was all in aid of charity so complaining is illegal. Everyone there was running 5K and dressing like brightly coloured disappointments to raise money for Breast Cancer Awareness. A great charity. Love supporting it. Great. But why then were there recruitment officers for both the police and the army there? Are Lewisham Council saying that they will do their best to protect us from cancer but they're happy for us to get shot? Getting shot is a big way of Lewisham life anyway, I suppose. In fact, I've been shot twice while writing this. Three times now.

It was definitely a weird thing to be standing with my dog, quietly hating everyone who had ever lived and everything that had ever happened, when an Army recruitment officer approached me and asked if I'd ever thought of joining the Army. I'm from Northern Ireland. The only time I've ever thought about joining the Army was when my parents annoyed me. I pointed out to the little boy playing soldiers that I was 41 and probably not of much use to the Army. I don't even own a tank, I told him. Not to worry, he said, the cut-off age for recruitment is 43. Great! I still have two more years before I have to make up my mind as to whether or not I want to go somewhere hot to get blown up. He asked what I did for a living and I've ever said STAND-UP COMEDIAN with so much glee before. Perhaps the TA might be more to my suiting, pointed out the lickle boy. "How's your weekends?", he said. "I'm a STAND-UP COMEDIAN!!!!!", I gleefully replied. He walked away.

The police recruitment was less pushy but much more creepy. It consisted of a man wearing a wacky over-sized Policeman's uniform and a wacky massive head. He walked around mainly waving and getting his photo taken, obviously unaware that impersonating a policeman is illegal. The run started and wacky-dressed-up-as-a-policeman-man ran the 5k along with everyone else. When the race was finished he did a bit more waving and then went behind a tent to remove his wacky outfit. I saw him take his massive head off. He looked like an ordinary bloke. An ordinary bloke wearing an over-sized Policeman's uniform. Then he took the uniform off. He was dressed as a soldier. That was weird.

The star of the day (if you don't count the stupid fuck who pointed to Jerk and said to her husband and said "What's that?") was the Lewisham Fun Run host. None other than DJ CK Flash. That was his name and he wasn't embarrassed about it or anything, which gives you an idea of the kind of person he is. He played Footloose just as the race started (stupid cunt) and then, for some unfathomable reason, said this: "Have fun today. Have fun? What am I talking about? You're about to run 5k. You'll be like hound dogs". He then played Hound Dog by Elvis Presley. Do hound dogs not have fun, then? Are they four-legged party-poopers? And will the boring man in the yellow jacket tell everyone that they should be on a lead? Stupid DJ CK Flash.

I spent nearly an hour standing with Jerk and listening to DJ CK Flash brilliantly read out the numbers of the runners who passed him by. "212", he would say. "87". Great stuff. For an hour.

9 minutes in to the run and I saw the first of the runners return. He ran out of the woods and back into the park while some people clapped. He still had 2k to run but he was in the lead. Way in the lead. Really way in the lead. There wasn't anyone at all behind him. That's when the penny dropped. This stupid cunt has gone the wrong way. He's obviously cut out a chunk of the run. He's looking smug now but when he gets disqualified he's going to be very pissed off. Still no-one behind him.

The man in the lead continued his run and by the time he got to the finish line, 8 minutes later, the first of the other runners were appearing out of the woods. The "winning" man crossed the finish line, smiled, waved and took his applause. It hasn't crossed his mind that everyone else is 10 minutes behind him for a reason. He's going to be very embarrassed in a minute.

But no. He had his photo taken for the local newspaper and was given a medal. Only in Britain would this happen. He's fucked up so let's heap praise on him.

Except he hadn't fucked up. He had legitimately run the race and won. Absolutely everyone else in the run had gone the wrong way except him. For fuck's sake.

There is more to say on this Lewisham Fun Run (you must be so excited) but I must finish now. Johnny Candon has just come round to my house. Later I will introduce him to my niece. That'll be a mistake.


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