My morning started early with a weird dream - an acute concern that I had arrived at the above event not only without my Tonsley colours but also without the all-important whisky bottle! There was some unexplained confusion in this dream with another, for me, weird event, albeit not, I assure you, of a sporting nature - my wholly unexpected and even more disconcerting nightmare of the previous weekend when, attending a conference in Denmark, I had been unexpectedly required to share a double bed with my overloud snoring brother-in-law Brian, the common thread being lack of sleep!

So it was that Celia and I set off rather tired for Worcestershire and to renew my acquaintance with not just one heroic little Austin A35, but with over 100 gleaming versions of this triumphant forerunner of the Peugeot 205GTI! On arrival we were greeted by boy scouts who, we thought, were collecting the admission charge when they asked us for a donation. Having nothing less than a £10 note between us we asked if they had any change to which the immediate response was "No"! As a former boy scout myself I did not begrudge them the tenner, at least not until we had parked the beamer and walked towards the gate to be confronted by a nonchalant youngster reclining on a hay bale asking whether we had paid our entrance fee and who then demanded another £2.

That paid we arrived in the arena in time to see "The engine blow" - a competition to see who would guess the length of time an engine would run without either oil or water - the answer was 16 minutes 11 seconds by which time there was a considerable amount of smoke emerging from the car. We missed the Blindfold Driving Event but there was no evidence of any life threatening injuries having resulted from this. It reminded me of the occasion when I rallied my A35 on the Yorkshire Moors and the competitors one by one went through a dust storm blinding them and leading to a multiple prang, unbeknown to my successor in title!

On then to the results of the main competitions and the granting of awards for the various classes, for which there appeared to be countless trophies awarded.

Celia - a very sensible person, used to weirdness in minor forms - found it very weird. The people exhibiting their cars were definitely weird - you can see one of them crouching beside his car to the right of the photo in which I am sitting in his car and from the list of entrance you will see one competitor was driving an A30 registered in the Netherlands (50-UH-ig), it certainly being weird to come all that way to attend the event (happily proving the event's compliance with rule 16). It was also extremely weird to destroy a perfectly good Maestro (happily however not a classic A35) in the engine blow.

Then, with me proudly wearing my Tonsley colours, we found a version of a black A35 most like the one that I had all those years ago rallied through the Lake District, Snowdonia and the Yorkshire moors: 160 KPK. One of the most exciting moments was to sit behind the wheel of 422 MMP. While the A35 was the only car in which my 6 foot six brother could sit wearing his top hat, this one had its driver's seat raised to accommodate its rather small but proud owner and I nearly did myself an injury getting between the seat and the steering wheel! The only disappointment was not to find the celebrated TLF 538 amongst the specimens present - but the blame for that has to be laid at the door of my fellow competitor, ex Judge Bruce Snr who, having picked up a bargain for a mere £50, failed to preserve it for posterity, making the spurious excuse that he had not realised that it had been involved in renowned rallies and that it was somehow weird that it should have two Teachers whisky bottles inserted in its floor to keep the car waterproof. Thus, without in any way my wishing to pre-judge your honourable decision on the Tonsley day of reckoning, little did he know that he would one day come to regret that his attributing the description "weird" to my notorious and deeply loved velocipede would earn me the Tonsley trophy and deprive him of that, the greatest of accolades!

Tonight was one of satisfaction - envisaged because our Race Night was to come of age in its 21st annual event, but unenvisaged on account of the presence of one of my competitors - erstwhile Judge Bruce Junior - but without his Tonsley Colours! My delight was all the more intense when his indiscreet wife revealed that he had contemplated bringing the aforementioned headwear, only to make an error of judgement in taking the decision to leave it at home - clear reason if ever it was needed for his relegation to the status "erstwhile Judge Bruce Junior"! Under your particularly sensible rules this left the field clear for me to take the Trophy on the night which was to include the weirdest of all sporting events! Hence the grump futtock expression recorded below.

Other satisfaction and pleasure was to be had when he took the bribe of a reward (the nature of which, to spare his blushes, I will refrain from disclosing) to accompany me, for him in an unknown direction, but for the purpose of undertaking some important photography. Thus it was that I led him at 9pm to tag along at the back of a queue of 24 two-legged runners in the highly unusual and weirdest of races which was then about to take place on the Wimbledon Greyhound Stadium track.

After the difficulties that had been caused by one of your honourable judges not long after his appointment to that noble position, by his over exciting the greyhounds, when he ran in the first Greyhound Human Race as leader of the 2004 Santa Cruisers (forerunners of the team pictured here in 2005), to avoid similar disruption it was necessary for this year's greyhound impersonators to be led onto the track without any danger of being seen by any of the four-legged variety and closely bunched around the 6 foot 6 hare that was making a guest appearance for this special night, when he was more usually to be found in an Olympic Eight.

So it was that six teams of 4 idiosyncratically named human greyhounds emerged onto the track closely followed by two Yelsnot competitors, but alas only one being properly attired!

Was it sabotage brought on by sheer irritability, at his misguided decision to leave his Colours at home, that caused former Judge Bruce Junior to press the button that turned the digital camera off, rather than take a photograph, that left me without a photograph of the runners and hare in transit, or was the cause the shame that had beset him that his own flesh and blood resident two-legged barely human greyhound failed to bring the baton in first?

Excitement reached fever pitch throughout the stadium as the Olympic human hare gathered pace and an assortment of barely human whippets gave chase. £1,500 had been staked on the outcome of this weirdest moment.

In a little over a minute and a half it was all over; the hare lived up to its Olympian tradition, closely followed by "Pie & Chips Twice" who can be seen here on the podium, otherwise strictly reserved for the real greyhound fraternity, having received their trophies from your competitor, to add to the weirdness of the occasion proudly sporting his Tonsley Colours.

When this year's judges return to their more accustomed and befitting positions as competitors next year they, being four in number, would be ideally suited to challenge the field in their full Tonsley Colours to take the 2006 trophy as the "Tonsley Turbos"! See you there on 24th November 2006.