The Power and the Passion

While popular culture would have us believe that the First World War started with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand by a crazed Serb nationalist, most historians know that the real cause was a broader lust for power and control – human nature really. As Mrs. Pompadillo is fond of pointing out, she only has to take her eye off the ball for a minute and Pepe is putting in a run to annex her Austro-Hungarian.

And so it was this morning with the power vacuum created by the bulk of the ICCC being engaged in other pursuits. The Mammoth was keeping the Ace warm in a cosy snow cave somewhere, Au de Cologne was off on business and Dicko, knowing that the burden of sprint lead-out rested on his shoulders, decided that if he could not win, that he was simply not showing up.

With the confusion that these absences created, someone had to step up, and who should appear out of the mist to assume this role? None other than the mythical hard man of the road, “The General” who had been waiting in exile for his chance to assume the leadership that he has always known was his and which there was now a clear opportunity to reclaim.

Along with Pepe he created what other members of the group termed “The Axis of Weevils”, as first the General and then Pepe led the bunch through Ballarat and up Eureka Street, the smallish group working very well together.

The power couple on the front soon broke down however, when after a week of dodgy gastro-intestinal issues Pepe tried to squeeze out a sneaky fart and came dangerously close to following through. It was only after a close inspection of the chamois when he got home that he could state with certainty that there had been no rectal leakage.

The sprint up the hill off Brewery tap showed that everyone was still going well, even the groups newest member “Exotic Mike” from the Peninsula, who had perhaps found himself with the wrong crew at the lake but went along for the ride anyway.

Turning into the finishing straight, Pepe clenched his sphincter and did his best to lead the sprint out in a way that gave everyone a chance. With 200 to go they were all still there, but when authority needed to be stamped there was one stamper and a whole lot of stampee’s. The General crushed all opposition – most disappointing, Crystal Cranks and the Fox who wallowed in like a couple of limp muppets 5 meters behind the Kaiser, both suffering from a severe case of softcockitis. There is going to be a big call soon for Runge to get back on the Kypo as the move to the new bike has yet to pay any sort of dividend and we know the lad keeps his mind on his money.

But to the victor the spoils - General Fry, we salute you.

“The King is Dead, Long Live the King”



General Brad Fry at the victory presentation.