Run No. 1003

Date:               30 November 2001

Where:             Woodleigh Park, Braddel Road

Occasion:              Real St Andrew’s Day

Hares:             Stiffy, Not Tonight

Members:            39

Guests:             12       

- Returnees :              0         

- Visitors :              2         

- Virgins :             1

A very cleverly put together run around the myriad cemeteries in the area, even managing to pass St Andrew’s School at one point just to remind everyone of the date.

The circle was a bit light on committee members – Frontarse even had to draft in Big Hammer to help with the beer. Then we were joined by a very friendly and bouncy Labrador with a penchant for drink and a constant need to be in the circle vying for attention – leading to several suggestions that Indy was visiting us in disguise.

The hares were given a resounding call of Good Run, and they announced the on on at Potong Pasir Avenue 4 - warning us that we would be in an opposition ward so if you were looking forward to tarmac roads and flushing loos – forget it!

One virgin was called in – a long cool Dane called Claude, who explained that he had only arrived yesterday. We were all pretty impressed until he announced that he was a guest of the hares and had no choice in the matter.

Two guests came in – Rubber Duck (Anybody notice the resemblance? – Ed.) and Malfunction – who lived up to his name by spending 10 minutes disposing of the beer.

Frontarse called for the Mystery Whip and in strolled the ubiquitous dog. So Frontarse iced it for presumption and called for the real one, which was Ripper. He went through various nationalities’ qualities – the French are known for diplomacy, the Brits for understatement – and the Yanks for tact. I think some irony had crept in here. Fanny Flasher had been overheard being super-sensitive in the Muslim cemetery and worrying about offending sensibilities in Ramadan. Ripper gave her a down down for being a walking oxymoron – a sensitive Yank.

Mystery Mystery Whip was called and in came Ayam Kampong who also wanted to highlight the problems of running through the graveyard in Ramadan. This is, after all, the month for cleaning the graveyard and – er – making tarts. Coo Chi Coo popped up with his usually politically incorrect comment: “I wish I could make a tart!” Well, I have no idea how tart making came into it at all – I think it led from the hares’ little flour dispenser elegantly marking the trail that Ayam said had something to do with pastry. Down down for the hares.

Frontarse now hove in to bemoan how tough his duties are on the Friday, particularly getting Mystery Whips. But he had never asked Ayam, so what the hell was she doing in there?!!

No, the real Mystery Mystery Whip was Gerald. He pointed out, with graphic movements, some of the running and jumping going on by future Olympians. Too Easy was the high jumper and Sally from Korea the long jumper.

Quickly on to AOB. Not Tonight called Gerald back in. He had managed to maroon his little green mini on one of the bumps leading to the car park just before the run. It had to be physically lifted off and his sump will never be the same again. So he got a Lion City Hash name after some discussion – Mini Humper.

Shitstream sailed in to call in our living representative of the Fuckawi joke – Coo Chi Coo really did disappear in the long grass tonight and jumped up and down crying out, “Where the fuck are we??”

Malfunction also wanted to witter on about sensitivity – he pointed out Delegator’s tee shirt of humping skeletons – was this really appropriate for a graveyard run? (Works for me! – Ed.)

Slocum came in for AOB and made the mistake of starting with, “I was at the front of the pack….” Of course, he got no further before being howled down. After the usual punishment, he continued, “I was at the middle of the pack…” Better.  Anyway, in the drain he heard a suggestive conversation. “Mind if I slip inside?” “I’ll just be a minute.” etc etc. Wet Pet and Coo Chi got done for innuendo. (Is that legal in Singapore? – Ed.)

Black Widow got SCC for going on about running behind nice arses when he was directly behind her on the trail – then pushing her roughly out of the way to catch up with Sally – whose arse he was studying. Down down for political incorrectness and hurting the scribe’s feelings. (Sob!)

Prick of the Week was Hand Job who had replaced it with a beer bottle. Don’t ask me. And I’m not sure about the charge either except it went to Iron Crotch as SCC had made her deaf. Never mind.

Don’t think the ice had just been sitting idle all the while. Of course Boo and Loose Change had been off and on, and now it was occupied by Squire and Mini Humper.

Big Hammer came into the circle to tell another SCC story. Apparently he had gone to his doctor with hugely high blood pressure. The doc had told him not to run, drink alcohol or have sex. SCC had explained that as he was going on the hash there was no way he could avoid the first two - and was hoping he got lucky with the third.

Fanny Flasher also had her fourpence worth to contribute. She wanted to share with us that her sister married a black man – this was just a ploy to sit on Squire’s knee. But she really wanted to get Stiffy as it was his actual birthday – and also to remember George Harrison, who died today. The nearest the circle could get to a George Harrison song was an off key rendition of “Hey, Jude”. Sorry, George.

Stiffy wanted to know why Coo Chi Coo hadn’t done his bit with the newspapers this week, since the Straits Times was carrying a gem of a piece about the world’s greatest lovers that would normally be right down CCC’s street. Was it, Spiffy wanted to know, because the Australians didn’t come out too well in the survey? Well, Stiffy would do the honours of calling out a few representatives. Bottom of the league were Japanese which led people to ask how come there are so many of them. Very low were Australians – tiny CCC obvious here. Brits did rather better – middle height Malfunction was the rep here. Danes did very well – in comes the long cool Dane Claude. People were beginning to mutter that size obviously does matter after all. But top of the league were the Americans, who bonk away like demented ferrets. Fanny Flasher was the scapegoat.

Coo Chi Coo hove back in to produce the offending article from his pocket – yes indeed, he had read it and sort of did a repeat, calling in Big Hammer as the American. How come he does it that often and has no children? And Sally was called in because the Japanese only do it 36 times a year – I don’t think as a Korean she’s too happy about being called a token Japanese.

Frontarse wondered why the column didn’t mention the people who do it on their own….

As you can see, things were descending to schoolboy smut and repetition, so it was definitely time for the on on, where the hares had kindly provided a cardboard cut out of a huge Indian temple as a backdrop. And contrary to earlier fears, there was running water and the street lamps worked and as far as I know no one has died from the food – which was excellent, by the way. Thanks, hares, and many happy returns, Stiffy.

On On!

Black Widow

PS Spent a jolly time at Brewerks on Sunday – using my Deepavali voucher to buy my brother lunch (Cheapskate! – Ed.) and watch the rubber duck race. Loads of hashers turned up sort of coincidentally. Of course, I had just staggered out of bed and was slightly mortified when I asked Comes Alone when he had arrived. He casually informed me that he had just run a full marathon and had a few beers at the Cricket Club.  I felt so inferior I just had to have another Bloody Mary…

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