So there has been some sass flying by the usual suspects suggesting that the reason that the flow of posts on this blog have slowed to a trickle is that your very own B A Tron has becoming too boring to come up with interesting posts.
Well let me assure you that it is for the complete opposite reason- The Mighty Tron has been so busy out living life of late that he has had no time to get it all down on paper. Nothing major, just 7 nights on the piss, and 2 nights at the theatre in the past 10 days- pretty standard stuff for us londonites.
What Proof do you have? I hear you asking- well let me tell you a story.
Many, many years ago, in a country far far away a young chap by the name of Rocky (B A Tron) set out on a journey to test himself against the strongest, and hardest of them all, Apollo Creed (Kapitan Kloss). In their first meetings (years 1981 thru c.2000) Apollo had the upper hand establishing himself as the pound 4 pound champ many times over. Until Rocky saw off the legend that was Apollo Creed with a last round knock out in the greatest challenge of them all The RUM A THON.
Rocky was now the champ, he was young handsome and couldn’t possibly be beat. The ladies described him as a stallion of some kind.
A champion doesn’t rest on his laurels however, over the ensuring years Rocky has put his title on the line over and over again, most notably twice against Clubber Lang (Dav Rossi or Fuc take your pick) over the championship distance of the Gabba Stack-A-Thon.
By this time Rocky was now considered the greatest too ever live- domestically he was unchallenged, his eyes turned to the world stage.
All the time Rocky was on the rise a young Russian Ivan Drogba (RDP) had been staking his own claim to be the greatest. Some consider him responsible for the metaphorical death of Apollo Creed with the fall of the Break-a-ways.
Anyways, Rocky was troubled, he new he couldn’t claim to be the true champ until he had taken Ivan on in his own territory. So this intrepid adventurer set off around the world, spending time training behind the Iron Curtin (cue the music montage of Rocky training- Rocky IV when he’s training in Russia- clearly the best of them all) all in the lead up to the biggest battle to ever occur- The Battle of Walkabout.
On a sunny (read rainy) day in London, Rocky and Ivan met to sort out once and for all who was the best of the best, it was the top gun of contests, planned for many years (the never occurring ‘Lighthouse to Koala Marathon’ and the ‘Stanly St Ironman’) this was a true battle of masters at the top of their game. Rocky with his man of the people appeal, beef based training program vs Ivan and his 40 hours a week in the gym approach to human perfection.
The test- why a simple race around the tubes of the worlds greatest city visiting all the establishments with the name Walkabout in the title, Finchley Rd was the meeting point, followed by Upper St, Temple, Covent Garden, Shaftserbury Avenue, Wimbledon, Putney Bridge, finally finishing at the holiest of holies the mighty Shepards Bush Walkie, the greatest Australian themed pub in the world. The Task: Over the course of the day drink 10 pints of the poisonous Snake Bite, followed by the Jug of Death to decide the winner at the SheaBoo.
This was a journey that was previously unthought-of by some of your more famous traveling hero’s, the likes of Mr Monkey and Ned Kelley would never have considered such an audacious challenge (we all noted that they ran for cover when Rocky arrived in the UK).
So the competitors met at Finchley Road, Rocky arrived a little late and looking a little seedy, thanks to a run in the previous night with the infamous APF, and he was quickly behind. Ivan finishing his snakey long before the hour for that pub was up. Rocky eyed the snakebite but couldn’t handle it so early, a quick pint of fosters was needed to steady the nerves, by the time he was on to his snakey for Finchley Rd it was almost time to leave, some quick sculling was required but it was obvious to all punters present (how good is the alliteration going in this post?) that Ivan had the better of early running- could Rocky come back?
Yes as it turns out. Two at Upper Street, followed by 1 at temple, and 1.5 at both the Garden and Shafterbury saw the hard punching Balboa clearly out class the crazy Ruski. As the competitors turned for the dangerous run down to Wimbledon Rocky sat on an easy 7 (with three pubs to go) whilst Ivan was sitting just behind on 6- he needed to turn it around. Both players had enjoyed strong periods, there was some controversy when Ivan was caught holding on during a game of 'no hands bus surfing' between Upper and Temple, but he quickly made up for that by a kamikaze ‘jump of the bus run and touch a wall and run and jump back onto the bus before it left again’ move- classic RDP.
The biggest question remaining was how would Rocky handle the long run down to Wimbledon? A noted rhythm specialist he has never been good in a stop start style affair, the fitter Ivan was much more suited for that kind of situation.
At this point there was a fairly nefarious interruption to proceedings by that legion of the dark angel Kapitan Kloss (playing himself now not Apollo Creed) the London Tube system was brought down by an unknown fault- clearly an action by Kloss trying to aide his Iron Curtain comrade by brining down the darling of the west, Rocky. What was going to be a 30 min break in drinking now became an hour 20 bus ride from hell. Rocky’s rhythm was shot, he was almost out on his feet when Ivan quickly closed the gap with 2 to his 1 at the famous lawn tennis association walkie, and all the momentum was with Ivan the terrible.
Putney Bridge all of a sudden loomed as a key round, could the mighty Rocky fight back? Or would the Russian hit the final blow?
Looking deep within himself the wily Rocky called on all his strength, all his experience, all miles he had put into his legs to claw his way through the final two pints and score the winning blow as the two warriors stood toe to toe at the bar in Putney Bridge Walkabout, the young, fit Ivan tried as hard as he could to summon the strength tackle a second pint and make the battle go to Jug of Death, but he was done. The battle was over, it was now just a short bus ride to SheaBoo for the coronation service. Ivan tried valiantly to down his 10th pint quickly upon arrival. But the mighty Italian Stallion was all ready too far into his Jug of Death for the Russian to muster a fight back, reluctantly he muttered the words, almost indecipherably in his thick Russian accent ‘I concede’!!!!!!
Unfortunately someone in the organizing committee stuffed up and there was no prize for Rocky to collect, but after a truly memorable speech (or did that happen in the movie?) he returned to the Pickle with his mighty reputation intact.
So with the scalps of Apollo Creed, clubber lang, and Ivan Drogba hanging off his belt, and Mr Monkey and Ned Kelly hiding in foreign countries scared, and Fuc, T Mac, and the Ayatollah unheard from, Rocky stands undefeated and unchallenged- waiting for anyone who is brave enough, who is made up of enough of the right stuff to come and challenge him on his next three adventures: Madness in Monte Carlo in May, The col d Tourmalet Wine Challenge in July, and Around France (and Cardiff) in 40 days in Sept/October. (NOTE other none sanctioned events include: Whiskey in the Wilderness at St Andrews in April, Silly Sailing in Valencia in June)
Who will stare into the great divide and jump?
