Run No. 1006

Date:                21 December 2001

Where:            Labrador Park

Occasion:        Christmas Run

Hares:            Rooning Shit, Quicksand

Members:        44

Guests:             18       

- Returnees :        3         

- Visitors :             0         

- Virgins :              1

It was a dark and stormy night – again. At least, it was by the time we got to the circle.

The run itself escaped the worst of the weather. Although some of the Wednesday runners recognised parts of it, it was apparently substantially different. I wouldn’t know, as I was shortcutting like there was no tomorrow, aided by some inside information from the hares. The first part of the run took us around the Park itself in delightfully confusing fashion, ending up with a locked gate and a large amount of grumbly back tracking. Then across Pasir Panjang Road, cross country to Gillman Barracks where an excellent back check got everyone together, over to Alkaff mansion, across Henderson Road and up the steps. The run had plenty of opportunity for the gung-ho types to have a workout round Mount Faber while the more sensible souls moseyed on home to be first with the mince pies thoughtfully provided by the hares. I was in reasonable company as a lot of the pack decided to do the “regular” rather than “long” run. This worked well as the various groups all arrived back at the run site within a few minutes of each other and started girding their loins for the real hard work of the evening round the beer wagon.

A lot of people had worn red and green for the run and there was more festive stuff in the circle, what with silly hats and hooters. (Bah, humbug! – Ed.) You’re just an old grouch. Anyway, the mob was in festive mood also, and stoically raised their umbrellas, then unanimously praised the run as the hares squelched in for their down downs. The on on was confusingly announced as being at Bukit Merah when in fact it was at Bukit Merah Village off Alexandra Road – we all got there in the end somehow.

Rooning Shit, never one to pass up a chance of taking centre stage, decided to do a Hare Whip. He called in Mouthpiece to scoff at first. She had arrived on the run, looked around in bemusement, and announced to all and sundry, “It’s a Wednesday run tonight”. Now I don’t know if you know the phrase: “She was so confused she didn’t know if it was Wednesday or Christmas,” but this was the nearest that I’ve seen to a literal example of it.

Then Philthy Phil was singled out. “Who says Ozzies aren’t smart?” questioned RS. “I do,” said virtually everyone. Anyway, the question was ironic, as Rooning Shit had found him confidently striding in the wrong direction at the split for the medium run. Yes, he went off on the long run. (Yeah, but he came back though. – Ed.) Well, you win some, you lose some.

Frontarse called for next week’s run details. Bemusement was again the order of the day as Comes Alone had to be reminded that he was the hare and then had no idea of any run details except that it’s going to be somewhere around the Holland Grove area.

One virgin was welcomed – Tim – who is Hand Job’s nephew-in-law. He didn’t run at all (A family trait, then? – Ed.) but did pay, so he can come again. Returnees were Bloodshit, his relative Shit Happens, and Bobbit.

Coo Chi Anus now made a late appearance having had a few problems with her sarong. To loud kookaburra cries she threw Frontarse out of the circle and took over. If you read last week’s newsletter, you will remember that closet-cross-dresser Coo Chi Coo raided my wardrobe including blond wig and did a pitch-perfect imitation of Indianus in the circle. She was rained off last week but was determined to see it through today. There was a special presentation to Mother Mary of pewter thingy that looks like something you keep granny’s ashes in but I’m reliably informed is a tea caddy. She’s racked up a whopping 600 runs and done a lot for the hash by serving on many committees including as Grand Mistress a couple of times. Coo Chi Anus wondered if he’d be allowed to squeeze her tits in appreciation but was told to stay in character. This he did by singling out poor terrified virgin youthful Tim and doing an Indy squat in front of him and offering him delights unknown this side of Geylang. Poor chap didn’t know where to look.

Coo Chi Anus had a couple of local newspaper articles, proving that you can change the clothes but you can’t change the man. The first one was about the new boat service on Singapore River, which means you can leave your car outside the CBD, take a boat to the office –and even stop for a drink at Boat Quay on the way back. Coo Chi Anus suggested that to take advantage of this service you need a rich man with a car who can’t drive it to buy you the drinks. (You’re losing it a bit. – Ed.) I know, there seems to be a few plot gaps there. Let’s move on quickly before anyone notices. His second article was easier to follow but completely surreal. In Bulgaria they have special news bulletins where the female newsreaders progressively strip down to their undies during announcements. Even more oddly, the programme organisers say that they only want average Bulgarian women performing. Coo Chi Anus was just using this as a lead in to insult someone. Since he couldn’t find an average Bulgarian woman to punish he’d find a “below average” American one. An extremely murderous Fanny Flasher was dragged in for purely arbitrary punishment.

“And now-” intoned the blonde vision “-this is the time of night when I let Frontarse say something. It makes him feel good.” So Frontarse called for the Mystery Whip. “That was me, you fool…” hissed the transsexual. So Frontarse moved straight along to the Mystery Mystery Whip. Comes Alone shimmied in. He seems to be a busy boy at the moment. “You can’t trust insurance people anymore,” he suggested, so brought in a protesting Boo for leading everyone the wrong way at the beginning of the run.

And then he called in Quicksand and Black Widow. What do they have in common? Sex, apparently. Oh- sorry - they’re both secs, as in on secs. And both of them couldn’t get it together enough to work out whether the run was from Car Park A or Car Park B – as the newsletter gave both locations and thus had cars scurrying all over the area.

Frontarse made a valiant attempt to wrest back control of the circle from the strutting, pouting Indy wannabe. “ I’ve got more information about the on on - “ he started. “I was going to do that,” barked Coo Chi Anus. Running Shit attempted to explain again and was promptly iced for his pains. Bobbit did a bit of barracking and was dragged in to keep him company, with Frontarse kindly forcing him to do the full strip so I got at least a Christmas flash.

And Frontarse welcomed back a rejuvenated Dickless, who hasn’t been with us for a couple of months and has managed to lose a load of weight in the intervening time, now looking fit, trim and still a hunk. “I suppose you’re only half a dick now,” suggested Frontarse. “That’s okay,” replied Dickless. “I can put up with 9 inches.” Ho ho.

Prick of the Week. Not only Dickless has been rejuvenated. Iron Crotch had an amazingly revived Prick to show off. Well, strictly, it’s a brand new one, which she’s dressed up with a fresh new laksa-flavoured condom. Anyway, she wasn’t giving it away as she hasn’t tried it out yet. (In which case why had the batteries run out? – Ed.) Coo Chi Anus was given the old, saggy one.

Time for AOB. Fanny Flasher sashayed in with a linguistic charge. Various wordy types – such as myself, Too Easy and Corny Linguist - were representatives. Apparently the World Scrabble Champion won his title with the word “darg”. We were invited to guess its meaning. Various obscene suggestions ensued – all wrong, but who cares, we got a free beer. Anyway, it is a real word – I looked it up – and it is Scottish dialect for a task. Hibernian Corny Linguist should be ashamed of himself.

AOB from me to Foo Foo. While making rather heavy weather of climbing up a muddy bank Foo Foo had been close behind me but didn’t give me a quick shove on the rump. I thought he was just being polite but no, he explained, “I didn’t want to lose my hand.” Sharp cries of condemnation and a well deserved down down to the insulting wretch. I’m like an elephant, you know. (Isn’t that what he was saying? – Ed.) No, no – I mean I never forget – and I shall repay…..

And Armless called in Strapless, newly returned from a rather nasty episode in hospital. Armless wanted to call attention to a particular procedure involving rubber gloves and digits and says next week all men on the hash should arrive ten minutes early, bend over - and Death Wish 4 will do the procedure for free – this is good news. Also good news is they can choose which finger he inserts.  The bad news is that he only has one glove….

Now we had a sad farewell to Shitstream and Faker who are off to a super new life in Bali. They’ve set loads of runs for the hash and will be missed.

Part of the jollifications of the evening was the present exchange. Frontarse now circulated with all the presents in a stocking and the givers were allowed to take one back. While he was circulating Coo Chi Anus reminded the circle that her older and uglier sister – I quote, Indy, so don’t blame me – would be returning in a couple of weeks and pleaded with us not to give her a hard time. To cries of: “Coo Chi Coo for Grand Mistress!” the circle came to a close.

As I said, we all made it to the on on eventually where the rain really bucketed down but failed to damp our spirits. Lots of seasonal singing ensued and the beer flowed like – er – beer. A very fine evening all round with a large turnout at Anywhere for the on on on.

And Ed and I hope you all had a great Christmas and have a wonderful 2002.

On On!

Black Widow

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