Run No: 921
Date: Friday May 19 2000
Where: Rocky's Pizza car park, Sunset Way
Hares: Indianus and Loose Change
Members: ??
Guests: 19
Virgins: 4
Visitors: 4
Returnees: 2

A universally acclaimed "good run" from two revered hares. I didn't manage all of it because of a rather unpleasant interface with the concrete about two thirds of the way through (and not even alcoholically challenged at the time) but the girls laid a great trail and the checks held up really well, turning the pack around on several occasions. (Future hares please note that that is what checks are supposed to do - this from one who really needs time to catch up!)

Prior to the circle, Astronut asked me to stand in for GM duties. "Fine," says I. "What do you want me to do?" "It's OK," says he. "I'll give you the sheet detailing the agenda." And so he did, all spread sheeted and detailed (whip no.1, whip no. 2 etc.) and specific to this run. "Strewth!" says I to Coo Chi Coo. "We never had this sort of ISO 2002 stuff when we were GMs!" CCC looked vague. "Was I GM? Oh, yeah - think I was pissed at the time..." Sorry, CCC, that was a somewhat meretricious comment (get out your dictionary).

Our ever benign and soft spoken GM Astronut called (attempted to) the circle to order a little late owing to a minor panic in the new committee's ranks as we were only functioning at 50% and were all clueless. Indianus and Loose Change leapt into the circle, LC giggling on full charge and Indy refusing to release Prick of the Week (vibrator No. 4, if you read last week's newsletter. This woman is insatiable - and anatomically bizarre, obviously). "Good run" was acclaimed by all and some rather unfair comparisons with last week's minor debacle were made. When asked about their on-on, a pause allowed the unstoppable Phony Dick to give his experienced view of the Rocky's Pizza prices and fare - he just can't keep out of the limelight.

Then poor, beleaguered Black Widow put down her pen to introduce the various guests of the week. Some rather tasty virgins gave us a twirl, comprising Michael, Ian and Graham (impeccably dressed - I mean, good God - he looked like a runner!) Jessie had voted with her feet and gone home. The virgins may have to get their act together when it comes to drinking, however, as it looked like we might miss the on-on waiting for Graham to finish. "I've already had three cans!" he moaned, as he sipped his Anchor in a melancholic fashion. Ahhh, bless him. I remember the days (No you don't - Ed.) when three beers was a lot. Very welcome returnees were The Pope (who hasn't changed a bit in the eight years since I've seen him) and Little Pig (who hasn't either). Good to see you, guys!

The hares obviously had a bit of a catfight about who was to be hare whip. Loose Change managed to get in the circle first, calling in a well-deserved Jack Off, whom many of us witnessed doing a solo "9 1/2 Weeks" impression by rubbing herself with ice cubes behind a car (getting hot, fellas?) and claiming this was her take on having a shower. Can the depths of perversion on the Hash sink any lower? (Yes - Ed.)

Indy then forced her way in and had just launched into some rambling anecdote when - horrors! - a phone went off to universal cries of "Down-Down!". Unfortunately. It was our hard working beer-provider, Jason, so he was acquitted. Indy continued with her salacious story of how Tripping Yogi and the ever-reliable-for-a-story Sara Lee took a couple of innocent girls - Wankie Poo and Doggie Style - to "see the railway station". (Yeah, right - I've been taken by lines like that before.) Beth (no hash name?) did look-alike duties for Wankie Poo at down-down time. Indy was heard to say, "I think I'll stay at the back of the pack forever," after recounting her enjoyment of the story. Now, do we accuse her of a) lying or, b) boasting? It's certainly one or the other.

Mystery Whip Squire continued the current running obsession with vibrators by calling in Indy because after spending all last week complaining about the limpness of the weekly award she had called in the engineering expertise of Barbarian - who had proceeded to make it even worse. (Hmmm... - hope your foreplay normally has a more efficacious effect, Barbarian!) Boo - look-alikes Strapless and Kiasu Lun (casts a giant shadow, that Boo!) - was charged with making derogatory comments about us wimmin, and causing Black Widow to refer to him as "infected pig" (!!!) which Squire felt deserved a renaming. Get your ears syringed, Squire. While I agree that "infected pig" has a delightful politically incorrect ring to it, I can't actually admit to more than the rather prosaic "sexist pig".

Mystery Mystery whip Lynxx - in a dead foxy outfit - called in the totally vulnerable Coo Chi Coo for his highly publicized new shoes (and socks). Do we think he rather plays to the gallery, folks? Anyway, Lynxx had found an old sock in her car (CCC had changed by now) and in a totally stomach-churning episode (amoebic dysentery, anybody?) soaked aforesaid sock in a glass of beer and we all watched in horror/delight as ever-game CCC drank the revolting solution. On a slightly lighter - and softer - note, she then charged the unfortunate Tinky Winky with having the smallest on-on call on the hash , saying on-on rather than Lynxx's more robust on-on. I thought it was a bit mean to rename him Teenie Weenie. - What will the girls think ? Lynxx's final charge caused me a few problems as I was writing in the dark at this stage and it reads, "Gigs werig stang gir nick come depstr shot sy#$ secrDid". With my amazing powers of decryption I have reconstructed that the charge was something about being stylishly dressed running-wise doesn't ensure success: Depositor ran in first despite being sartorially-challenged (is this a compliment?) and the trendily-togged Shit Stream could only manage second. This raises two questions: 1) since when was the hash a race? and 2) where the hell were you, Lynxx?

The Mystery Mystery Mystery Whip was Careless. (I think Astronut is doing this on purpose to spoil my Saturdays.) He wittered on in politically correct fashion about a drug called Nitrax that helps people to run better but also stops them smoking. He then called in major smokers Vietnam Rose, Indianus and Squire for punishment. Somehow your scribe, who was puffing away at the time, was exempt. Scared of me, Careless? His next charge (and I was losing it by now) had something to do with tunnels and anti-gravity. Anyway, he took the down-down himself because he couldn't find the culprit and declared with becoming honesty, "I need a beer!".

Prick of the Week was awarded by Indianus (who looked fairly choked having to let go of the throbbing appendage). She was determined to milk (!) the affair by calling in four suspects: Ripper, for being the original prick-repairer; Warlike Talkie (so much for the Spell Check - but the new name works for me!) for short-cutting (unfair!); Phony Dick for crowing about finding a check; and Lynxx for forging a trail where the hares did not dare to tread. Lynxx got it by popular vote. Maybe she can find an engineer to restore our flagging award.

Pussyfoot revelled in his moment of glory awarding Pussy of the Week to, and I quote, "The most venerable and honorable member of our Hash." Then he turned to me and whispered as he pointed to the "venerable" figure, "What the fuck's his name?" So much for fame, Dirty Hacker! Anyway, the gist of his charge was Dirty Hacker's (brilliant, I thought) Hash Hotline message pretending to be an answering machine, which had the obviously one-sandwich-short-of-a-picnic Pussyfoot ringing off and trying again three times before he, you know, got it. Never mind, Pussyfoot - in your next life you'll come back as a Nobel Prize winner!

Everyone was now vying for AOB and first in was Barbarian, who quoted a newspaper article. (Hey, Barbar can read!). The link was the Pope John Paul's birthday and our very own Pope, who got a down-down.

Careless did Shit Stream and Astronut for new shoes, despite Astronut's strenuous (and justified) objections.

Indy beat Sybil out of the circle to promote the Harriets' 1400th celebration on Wednesday at RSYC.

Big fight now with all sorts of people trying to muscle their way into the circle over cries of "WE WANT SYBIL" -so she duly obliged. I went to the beer wagon at this point but I believe it was something to do with Front Arse wanting a massage (who doesn't?) and somehow Kiasu Lun and Careless were involved (sounds too horrible to think about). Mother Mary said something, but things now collapsed in disarray, an unseemly scramble for the last alcohol occurred and people wandered off to the excellent on-on (and some of us to Anywhere and all things disgraceful later. There are compensations for having a dead car!)

A couple of parting shots: never follow a couple of old farts who should know better while they are in deepest gossip mode. Bagless and Pope managed to lead a whole load of lemmings - oops - hashers off the trail because they trusted their experience…

And the collective word for a group of ducks is "raft" or "paddle". I know this because someone phoned me at four o'clock this morning to tell me. He's been on the Internet for days apparently, and got the answer from a friend in Switzerland. Ah, the wonders of the Information Age!

Anyone got an old car going cheap?

On On 

Black Widow

(Can I go down the pub now?)

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