Run No. 930

Date: 21 July 2000

Where: Toh Tuck Terrace

Hare: Phoney Dick

Members: 51
Guests: 19
Virgins: 2
Visitors: 3
Returnees: A slightly dubious Steptoe

"Not Bukit Timah again," I whimpered pathetically as I phollowed Phoney's whimsically laid trail past the Hindhede Drive Visitors Centre, with visions of yet another knee-trembling (and not in the more pleasant sense) descent down the rooted staircase towards Echo Valley. But I should have known better. After all, Phoney set the run, and and he's far too - er - sensible to do anything like that. So it turned out to be a mainly bike-trail driven run, with a couple of really stiff checks, particularly the one on Rifle Range Road that seemed to be about two kilometres long. Of course, we all knew where it was going at this stage so set off in the right direction anyway. Phoney's excuse was that someone had removed his pretty pink (coming out at last, Phoney?) tree decorations, but I think he just forgot about that bit.

Best thing about Alzheimer's - you get to meet new people every day.

Back at the run site (no where to have a pee - God dammit! You try taking notes on a full bladder….) (Sounds absolutely disgusting - Ed.) I contended with massed ranks of brain-dead hashers who seemed to have trouble remembering their names in order to sign in. Come on guys, it's not nuclear physics! Various people, showing their contempt for the new streamlined system ( Be honest - it's called "I can't be bothered to carry the cards" - Ed.) signed in upside down, back to front or, as in Impossible's case, both at once, demonstrating his worthiness of his hash name. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible….

I thought it was an excellent run, just the right length, and no bloody hill trekking. So why were you picky bastards yelling for Hash Shit? One hare, and at the last minute - you should be grateful! Astronut, forgoing that sanguine, laid-back magnanimity that we have come to know and - er - accept, grudgingly averred that it was an Average Run. Damning with very faint praise, I think. If I were you, Phoney, I know what I'd say next time anyone comes to you begging to help them out of a hole…

Phoney announced the on-on at the pleasantly adjacent Ping Restaurant, and White Chinaman was in and out of the circle in a blink of an eye (hope you're not that quick at everything, WC!) to inform us that "NextweeksrunisatMandaiLakeRoadTrack15."

Ring Pull, all marbles reinstalled after last week's little episode, called in virgins Wei Ling and Joanna, in whose case the "Little Flat Chested" refrain showed that many of our members are obviously too vain to wear their much-needed glasses. Steptoe was particularly rowdy at this point, and indeed, throughout the circle. The lad has obviously missed us…

Or maybe he was making sure that he got his free down-down as a returnee. Ring Pull called him in with visitors Dr. Flushman, Eric and Chip.

Eric and Chip. Sounds like they should be stars of a Disney cartoon. They were running behind me (true!!) at one point and I heard one of them coyly whisper to the other "Race?" - and off they hared, oozing testosterone and whooping and hollering like a couple of five year olds. Ah, bless. Boys - don't you just love 'em? God obviously put them on the planet to prove that he has a sense of humour - there's no other excuse…

New Member Svein Gunperson (this time I'm not blaming the Spell Check) was finally inaugurated. Please give that guy a hash name!

People were being very mean and nasty to Ring Pull at this stage and kept sarcastically calling for AOB. Now, I've told you before, children, we shouldn't draw attention to people's mistakes. It's not nice (snigger, snigger).

It was my turn to suffer next, in a very confused hare whip scenario. Phoney didn't have anything prepared and was ready to whip himself (we Catholics know all about that. - Nice, isn't it?) when Big Hammer came to the rescue and gave him a stage-whisper ear job. It was all about the damn cards again. (Personally, I blame Astronut.) They were left languishing under the table at last week's run site. My excuse is that I had other things on my mind. (Hey the fleet was calling - I'm only flesh and blood, you know.) Astronut forgot that he was supposed to be in charge of them. So I got the blame as usual. Hang on a bit - I'm going to go and have a quick sulk. (Another euphemism? - Ed.) Look, I need a break. Okay?

Well, that was nice. I always did like Merlot. Does make a terrible mess when you spill it all over the keyboard, however.

Ring Pull dragged poor ol' Phoney in again for the longest check in known hash history.

Then it was AOB.

Just kidding.

Then it was Mystery Whip time. Gecko brought in a beer brewing kit and whipped the ever-reliable Dirty Hacker for attempting to put Jason out of business. Or something. Kiasu Lun was punished for having apparently taken it up the arse from a couple of women this week - no, not an anatomical miracle, but something to do with his car, The circle, with a distinct lack of sympathy, were only interested in knowing his car number for 4D.

The Mystery Mystery Whip was a gallant Poser, who not only had to contend with an unruly circle, but with the highly visible arrival of the ever-present boys in blue. She firstly whipped Bagels (I love that Spell Check!) and Corny Linguist for asking her for a job (hey, I'm free!) and then got on to the main business of the night - dick measuring. Yes, the hash is an entity of very little brain, and it didn't take half a brain cell to foretell that someone was going to focus on the dick survey in The Sunday Times. Now, I could give you the results of my own survey here… (Oh no you won't! You want to run with Lion City again.. - Ed.) Perhaps you're right. Joseph Ng and Kiasu Lion (Spell Check strikes again!) represented the Chinese, Shit Stream and Gecko the Malays (you figure it out), Ripper and Coo Chi Coo the Caucasians and Squire the Indians. Presumably Squire is twice as - er- endowed. Couldn't follow this too well, but Joseph, after a bit of shenanigans with Saliva and a ruler, got the award.

And a hash name - Long Dong. Must talk to Saliva about the criteria…

Dirty Hacker ushered a splinted Prick of the Week into the circle and presented it to Kiasu Lun. So he never has to be Kiasu again. Losing the plot here. Sorry.

Pussy of the Week was presented by Fuck-a-Bunny (who was wearing a delightfully tasteful tee-shirt printed with the legend: "Eat shit and die, motherfucker!" Just the thing to wear to the family reunion dinner.) He brought in a bendy pussy-measurer (don't ask!) and tested it on Murkury, Molester, Chastity Belt and Carl (Don't Call Me Mr. Speedy Tits). Chastity Belt got it for moving the pole. Or his pole. Oh, I don't know.

Then it finally, really, truly was AOB. Stiffy sternly admonished a member for taking drugs on the run, in which he was supported by Ugly Bum, Bushy and Speedy (Don't Call Me Mrs. Carl) Tits. And he produced the offending pharmacological item - a bottle of "Bust With Lust" pills, produced by - I kid you not - Coo Chi Coo Laboratories in California. Amid protestations that it was nothing to do with him, he doesn't need that sort of stuff, his dick is bigger than anyone's etc., CCC was duly whipped.

Phoney announced that we were still missing a runner - Inge - who is Dingleberry's friend and doppelganger. Corney Linguist, showing scant sympathy and no mercy, promptly called in Dinglevirus for not only losing her friend, but also managing to lose the last newsletter over the e-mail ether. That reminds me - on the run Big Hammer tried to tell me how to access the lost newsletter. "It's simple, Black Widow," he intoned. " You open an SPG file, move the snurtwangle into the MSG interface folder, reconfigure the firkin shifter, double right click and press f93." Yes. Thanks, Big Hammer. Can I go and shoot myself now, please?

A brief stroll then to the excellent on-on. I found myself on the old farts table (Fair enough - Ed.) where the best (!) singing of the night ensued from a stalwart crew comprising, among others, Bagless, Aye Aye, Saliva, Chastity Belt, Bully, Corney Linguist and Impossible. You can imagine what sort of an evening it was when I tell you that we ended up with "My Home In Aberdeen", "Danny Boy" and "The Wild Rover". Funky, or what? New economy, baby! Lion City is where it's at!

And thanks to Saliva and Aye Aye for driving me home. Or, at least, to the Colbar. (Same thing - Ed.)

You're right. See you. The dog's thirsty. (I'm talking about Spider, you wankers!)

On On!

Black Widow

P.S. A friend of mine anagramaticised my full name - Anna Francesca Hills. He came up with "Flinch an anal caress." Hmm. No comment.

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