Thursday, April 03, 2008

On taking part in the Scaryduck Fun Run of Certain Doom

On taking part in the Scaryduck Fun Run of Certain Doom

My charming kids are trying to have me killed.

They are trying to kill me TO DEATH by putting my name down for a so-called 'fun run' organised by Dorchester Lions Club, where I am expected to run several miles, have fun, keel over with a heart attack and collect money for charity.

I'm on a hiding to nothing as I have – somewhat foolishly in a moment of pizza-deficient weakness – agreed to take part. Either the short, round, red-faced, forty-something journalist takes part in this certainly fatal race, or the organisers come round and set their lion on me as a short, round, red-faced, forty-something tasty snack.

So: next Sunday (Aaargh! NEXT SUNDAY!), while normal people will be taking part in the walk in the park that is the London Marathon, I shall be pounding round the streets of our county town in a Chelsea football shirt (the publicity blurb encourages runners to arrive in fancy dress - I'll be taking part as a wanker) and almost-brand-new white trainers begging spectators to strike me down out of mercy.

And all this for charity, which is where I now post a cunningly-worded invitation to part you from your hard-earned:

GIVE ME YOUR MONEY

Sponsorship money will be split between the Dorchester Lions Club (and I sincerely hope they get enough for a new lion) and the charity of my choice.

Finding that I cannot accept cheques made out to Caring Assistance for the Scaryduck Household (CASH for short), I will instead be offering my services to Cancer Research UK, who are very excellent.

For the purposes of internet donations, I've set up a page on the Just Giving website, so you can give me genuine cash money and claim Gift Aid tax relief without the unpleasantness of coming round waving a sponsorship form in your face and threatening you with a recently deceased lion.

IT IS HERE

My target is modest. After all, I'm not walking, Mosher-style, halfway across Europe. A hundred of the Queen's pounds and I'll be a happy man.

I am not utterly mad.

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