Settling in for the evening dressed to the nines in me wee tartan moleskin waistcoat & loungin' all comfy-like on me reed bed at back o' me snug hidey hole in't river bank; pappin' away contentedly on me wee stoat pipe.... I reach out and paw on the 4" battery telly to raise a white fur belly chuckle at the sight of the big news story of the day. All those 2,500 mountain marathon masochists in't Lake District getting drenched t't skin and blown off their feet then freezing in overnight camps on't stormbound tops.... all in't name o' "jolly good fun" !!
All pics are click-thru expandable..
A month's rain in a day, winds to knock us off our feet... we're lovin' it ! "
Don't pick your nose while wearing a kinky rubber mask while you yomp into horizontal rain, warns the stoat.... you could suffer terrible brain damage if you walk into a large roadside boulder.
The RAF rescue 'copter is called out to scour the fells for lost sheepwalkersTM.
The big chief hails the silliness of holding the marathon after police advice to call it off when bad weather was forecast... " The hills could have become a giant morgue"
Much ado about nowt!, chuckle the rescued sheepwalkers as they are bussed back to their comfy lodgings to dry out.
" Dont know what all't fuss were aboot" complains one SAS-fit super walker, before taking an hour to bail 5" of floodwater from his parked car using the tiny cup off the top of his trendy slimline lightweight fell-runners' thermos flask 
The event organizer, Miss " dont mess with me" Longbottom ( ahem!) rants on tediously on how the mountain marathon masochists are experienced hillwalkers "including doctors and lawyers"... and calls the police and subsequent media attention "unnecessary". And who, asks the Stoat, in their right mind would want to contradict That fair lady! 
All the good stoat knows is there's far too much of this organized madness going on these days in yon hills. Many's the time I've nearly been rolled over by mountain bikers from behind, zooming down't hill. If Id have sprung out to one side to grab a slug on't path just then I'd have been one stiff stoat.
COMPULSARY RINGING OF BELLS ON BIKES WHEN APPROCHING PEDESTRIANS FROM BEHIND SHOULD BE MADE LAW !!!
The hills are there to be enjoyed at a leisurely pace like a vintage wine or single malt. These people who see them as some kind of obstacle course to prove their egos are fit find no time to stop and take in the beauty and wonder of it all.
Maybe that's because they're incapable of appreciating beauty.... in that case maybe they should confine their tiresome macho showoff marathons to circuits of the giant coal & slate slagheaps of south Wales in future
CHEEKY STOAT
ps Read Ian Thorpe's panoramic view on this sodden shambles at Jenny Greenteeth's Boggartblog... www.greenteeth.blog.co.uk
I think the Welsh may object.
I had a good giggle reading that.