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Chairman's Chat...Nipple Clamp Week
28 August 2012

After an intense and highly stimulating period of racing, loving and general clamp-related fun we approach the final National League event of the season at Docklands. After that, all we have to look forward to in the boat is the end of season finale weekend at Holme Pierrepont and lots of long, cold months of training and Henley racing. Why does it have to be long and cold? Why can't there be funding available to send this beautiful bunch of people to a 6-month winter training camp in the Maldives? In these times of austerity, I can't think of a better way to spend public money.

Anyway...fortunately, at Secklow, we can find more to keep us out of mischief outside the boat as well as inside it. Alongside the longness and coldness we have a multitude of opportunities to look ridiculous, poke fun at unsuspecting people (both in our team and outside) and generally have a good time. Take the bank holiday weekend, for example. I've never seen more chaps excited about the prospect of '101 things to do with a pink feather boa' than the macho Secklow types at the May-Caine wedding. If it is possible to appear inherently masculine whilst, at the same time, deeply camp then these guys achieved it. As for where the fairy wand ended up, I suspect that it is probably best not to ask...

After the dancing performance (the DJ was kept well entertained by both ends of the dance ability spectrum) the Secklow Theme Song is henceforth to be MC Hammer's classic "U Can't Touch This". As well as being the most popular dance of the night (apart from the bride and groom's first dance...obviously...I would be shot if that wasn't mentioned...or nipple clamped..) it is a message to the other crews. Neither can you touch our crew when we race; nor can you get your grubby mitts on our voluptuous yet taut bodies.*

Clearly there are some members of the crew that need a bit more practice in going on the lash then racing the next day, however...there were some pathetic sights first thing on Sunday morning in Worcester, and I am not talking about the limp flapjack offerings on the catering stall. Our first race was so overwhelmingly characterized by fear and red-eyed hangover that there were several near-accidents. Lots of trembling legs...and not in a good way.

So, on to London...where we shall ride those breakers, clamp those nipples and generally go out with a bang. And we'll paddle quite well, too.


*Editorial Note: in both of these statements, there is a very slight use of artistic license involved..particularly the first comment...which is basically a lie...and we're also really not that fussy


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