Run No. 1000

Date:                      10 November 2001

Where:                 Tiger Balm Gardens/Haw Par Villa

Occasion:                 “Survivor” Run # 1000

Hares:                    Trail Master - Boo

                                Long – Stash, Big Hammar, Hungry Bum, Steptoe

                                Medium 1 – Skidmark, Sherpa, Ad Nauseum, Quicksand

                                Medium 2 – Ditch, Bully, Well Laid, Corny Linguist

                                Short – Delegator, Dog Shit, Dity Hacker, Mother Mary

Members:               74

Guests:                  290ish

- Returnees :                  A Few

- Visitors :                  Lots

- Virgins :                 10 or so

 

 

And finally the day arrived. After all the work put in by the 1000th run committee, the magazine committee, the hares, registration people and many other helpers, a larger than expected turnout infested Haw Par villa on a sunny afternoon to the consternation of innocent civilians expecting a nice quiet Saturday afternoon.

 

There were four different runs, short, short-medium, long-medium and long. I went on the one that looked most like a normal Friday – the short-medium. Most of the usual suspects were on this one  - Indianus, Astronut, Gypsy, Not Tonight – and it was excellently swept by the hares. It did, however, take in most of the hills in Singapore – I swear I went up Mount Faber twice – and of course, since I picked it, it turned out to be longer than the long-medium. But the run was just the beginning of the entertainment for the evening, of course.

 

The pre-circle time was enlivened by load of sweaty half-naked – or almost completely naked – hashers sluicing off outside the loos and Indianus flashing her g-string at anyone who would help her into her sarong. So Cunt Chong spent an inordinate amount of time on this, I seem to recall, getting it wrong several times. Still, she had to look her best, didn’t she? And old friends turned up out of the blue – Robbo, Murkury and Barf Wader, Nick Shirlaw – to name just a few.

 

The circle was held at the stage area, with Brewerks doing an amazing job keeping the beer flowing almost faster that the crazed mob could quaff it and than Bagless could serve it. Indianus grabbed a microphone, which in true hash fashion didn’t work, and welcomed all the visitors. Or tried to, but there was an awful lot of noise and no ice to keep the mob in control. The mike – chastised by man of the night, Stiffy – started working again. A visiting Australian brought in a bath full of ice cubes. And the circle started again. Well, sort of.

 

Frontarse and Indianus attempted to call in the hares for the short run. Dogshit, Delegator, Mother Mary and Dirty Hacker. They were in the shower. Oh, all right then – the Whip for the short run. In the shower. No, Dirty Hacker was there. And he picked on his old mate Fluter for getting pissed in the afternoon and peaking too soon.

 

Indy moved on to the short-medium run (Skidmark, Sherpa, Ad Nauseam and Quicksand were hares) and long-medium run (Bully, Ditch, Well Laid and Corney Linguist) – but most of them were – you’ve guessed it – in the shower. Pitstop yelled from the sidelines that we might as well have the circle in the shower, so was the first on to get a taste of the ice. Now I do appreciate my privileged position when it comes to having a good view of the icees – er – assets – but I could have done without this, I can tell you.

 

Bully came in as a Hare Whip for his run. He called in Trail Master Boo as he had only arranged one bus for his run and two for the other medium one.

 

Pitstop got of the ice, cubes of which clung to his ample rear in disgusting fashion till he wiggled them off. Remember this later.

 

The long run hares were invited in – Stash and Big Hammer, Steptoe and Hungry Bum. Loud cries of “Too short!” from those that had crawled round the 2-hour trail.

 

Big Hammer was the Hare Whip here. He had noticed some wimpy types slinking off and grabbing taxis. Camel was the surprise infringer here, seen getting into a taxi on Commonwealth Avenue. Maxi Pad and Kiasu Lun had been boasting of their carbo-loading before the run, and then piled into a taxi 10 minutes after starting on the short trail.

 

There were loads of private parties going on but Indianus picked on old faithfuls Coo Chi Coo and Desperation for punishment. The leprechaun sat in the ice and queen-sized Desperation straddled him, virtually swamping him in the process, much to the delight of our visitors.

 

Stash whipped Cock Radio and Bushy. Cock Radio had arrived at the run site straight from work and had to do the whole thing with a massive great rucksack. Bushy was running round with a tiny little Camelback, and when it got too much for her pleaded for someone else to carry it. And who did? The gallant and already overburdened Cock Radio.

 

Corny Linguist had finally arrived from sweeping the run and was hauled into the circle where Indy tried to put him on the ice. Remember that the poor benighted boy had only just arrived. He picked up the ice gratefully, rubbed it over his face, sucked thirstily on a couple of cubes – and then looked around in puzzlement at the cries of disgust from the circle. We’d just seen Pitstop’s arse all over that ice, hadn’t we? We all told CL exactly where it had been and he turned an interesting shade of green and stepped aside for a quick vomit.

 

Finally it was time for the short run Whip – a fragrant Zipp shimmied in from the shower. How nice it was to see old friends, she said. Most are so friendly and pleased to see her. So then Robbo comes over and say with a big grin, “Give us a kiss, darling.” Zipp is about to oblige when he adds, “Nothing makes me sick!” And he’s still smiling as he does his down down to heaps of insults.

 

Zipp’s second charge involved Ugly Bum, who was seen running with a towel round her neck  - this was apparently because she had hurt her back. No, I don’t get it either. Anyway, her hurt back is ruining her sex life, as she can’t lie comfortably in any position. The only place she can do it is on the sofa and so enthusiastic is she about the new venue that it’s had to be re-upholstered.

 

Now it was time for thank yous and welcomes. Frontarse called in Trail Master Boo and the 1000th run committee – Stiffy, Well Laid, Hand Job, Corny Linguist, Suzee Wong, Fanny Flasher, Quicksand, Indianus, Slocum, Jack Off, Loose Change, and himself. Strapless was thanked in absentia.

 

Then it was the magazine committee’s turn. Bagless led in his merry throng, comprising Astronut, Impossible, Poser and Black Widow.

 

Frontarse called for a representative from each visiting chapter. I’m bound to miss someone here so bear with me. We had representatives from Royal Selangor, Royal Lake and Mother Hash (all KL), Hong Kong, Perth, South Korea, Trengganu, Jakarta – and all the Singapore chapters managed to muscle their way in as well. More people inside the circle than out.

 

Zipp had a birthday down down and wanted to remind people that there were lots of runs before the 1000th, including run no. 1. Who were the people who had been on that one? With a great clanging of Zimmer frames and chattering of false teeth, in tottered the decrepit survivors – Fluter, Robbo, Boo, Mother Mary, Octopussy, Hooray and Kayu. So this is what we’ve got to look forward to. Might as well end it all now. Robbo and Fluter were both sporting no 1 run tee shirts – they must have been mere slips of laddos when they got them ‘cos they certainly looked embarrassingly tight now. Zipp charitably suggested that they had shrunk in the intervening years.

 

And Frontarse called in Michael Kuan as a representative of our largest visiting contingent – Royal Lake Club – and gleefully put him on the ice. (To the delight of the the rest of his contingent- a case of “Sabo” – Q)

 

People were getting really hungry now, so after a quick down down for all the ex-Lion City GMs – you know who you are – it was off to the food queue. And then it was time for the skits.

 

This is really only a circle report so I won’t go through the skits in any detail – only the bits I remember particularly well. And, of course, they tend to be the ones that involve removal of clothes. The Harriets went all naughty nineties and donned corsets and suspenders in their Moulin Rouge take-off. The girls all looked lovely – but one of them looked a bit awkward in the stiletto heels and had a suspicious 5 o’clock shadow. And that was just Loose Change. No, really, it was Shoeless joining the ladies to strut his fancy stuff. Then yet more stuff from the Harriets – the ever reliable can-can number – always appreciated. But the high spot of the evening was Indianus’ “It’s Raining Men” number. Indy, who seems to posses a huge number of strange S&M outfits as well as enough vibrators to open a sex shop, turned up in a bathrobe to the sad strains of “All By Myself”, toyed with a didlo, lit a fag and generally looked miserable. Then the music changed. She was suddenly surrounded by four guys wearing nothing but umbrellas, wellington boots and broad grins. Oh, and feathery g-strings. The guilty bums were Running Shit, Sad Bastard, Shoeless, and the still-going-through- puberty Coo Chi Coo, looking very fetching in yellow. Indy threw off her robe revealing – well, just about everything really, and proceeded to clamber all over the men and all their bits, culminating in a very graphic bit of simulated rumpy-pumpy with an ecstatic Coo Chi Coo. Unfortunately – story of Indy’s life really – the guys realise they fancy each other more than her and leave her as bereft as before – with only the dildo for company.

 

This was received so well that they had to do an instant replay.  And I’ll bet we see it again at the Dinner Dance.

 

There was lots of other stuff on stage including a hotly disputed boat race, and then it was time for the dancing and drinking till we were thrown out at three a.m. And the beer still wasn’t finished, though we really did our best.

 

So all in all it was a thoroughly successful night in every way - the goodie bag, the runs, the food, the beer, the skits, the venue, the weather. And the organisation. A very well done to everyone involved. On on to the 2000th!!

 

On On!

 

Black Widow

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