Run No. 937

Date: 8 Sept 2000

Where: MacRitchie Reservoir

Hares: Dinglevirus and Too Wet

Members: 55
Guests: 21
Virgins: 2
Visitors: 2
Returnees: 2

I'm afraid this is going to be a pretty subdued circle report this week - as it was a pretty subdued circle. I think this had something to do with the shell-shocked demeanour of the circle who had obviously been stunned into some sort of coma-like state from the run. And I don't mean stunned as in "Wow - that was great!" but stunned as in "What the #!*% was that???" For those who did the "proper" run, Dingleberry had provided an interesting take on the back-check: you were supposed to run halfway round the reservoir, turn round at the back check and come back. All the way back. On the out trail. Those of us who found this idea totally incomprehensible just did the whole circuit, wondering if we had missed something, like maybe it was some sort of devilish bus run. And it didn't help that I was doing it in borrowed trainers. I have to thank Sherpa for her assistance, otherwise I'd have been doing the interminable thing in Ripper's Size 9s. I managed to acquire a fair bit of blistering from the unfamiliar shoes but still got in earlier than the poor benighted sods who had spent twenty minutes trying to break the back check

Dingleberry had made all sorts of efforts to celebrate her leaving run by thoughtfully providing mooncakes and nibbles back at the run site, and an opportunity to scribble on her body - well her t-shirt, actually. That randy little sod Coo Chi Coo artistically embellished her right breast. He always gives it a go, doesn't he?

Ring Pull called the circle to order and Astronut called in the hares and asked for comments on the run. This was about the only time that the circle showed any animation as they came up with all sorts of interesting ways to lynch, boil, decapitate or otherwise punish the hares. Surprise, surprise, it was awarded the Hash Shit, as Too Wet protested all the while that she was only responsible for the on-on at the May Li restaurant up the road.

Next week's run seems to be already on its way to a similar fate as Murkury is flying off, leaving a solitary Barf Wader to handle the whole shebang. I reckon we'd better do the long haul to Pasir Ris Park and give her some support. The run site is not in the old directory, apparently.

Astronut made a plaintive plea for the return of the hash signs, which have done a disappearing act.

Ring Pull again mentioned that the new directories would be arriving next week (Bit late - Ed.)

Virgins Nick and Simon looked like escapees from "The Revenge of the Nerds", wore terrible shorts - and couldn't drink. Youth is definitely wasted on the young.

Two visitors from the Monday hash - Faithful Hound and - er - Patrick.

Two returnees - Go Round and Come Round.

At this stage I was having trouble concentrating because of the R(A) antics going on directly opposite me. Lingering looks in soft focus, entwined limbs, stolen kisses - you know the sort of thing. And that was just Chastity Belt and Gypsy. However, Astronut ignored them and pulled in Slocum and Jack Off for their very public display of a newly-minted relationship. As Ripper muttered to me, "At least she's putting her passion wagon to good use…"

The Hare Whip was a bemused (Isn't she always? - Ed.) DingleThingy. She accused Footrot of being one of the loudest voices decrying the run despite the fact that he didn't do it.

Ring Pull then presented Dingle with the smallest hash vessel ever seen - it made the egg cups look positively generous. This was for completing 24 runs. She announced, to a ragged chorus of exhausted cheers, that this was Dingle's last run. She also compared tonight's run with one that Barbarian set last year which most people went round twice and still made it back in under the hour: her suggestion was that no training marathoners should be allowed to set a run without Barbarian as co-hare in order to achieve some sort of balance.

The Mystery Whip was the venerable Bully. His brain had retired hurt, so he could only muster up a desultory charge for Patrick from Monday - who said that he thought the run was great. Yes. Well, these Monday hashers live on a different planet from real people, don't they.

The inertia of post-hash tristesse was getting to a lot of the fairer sex during the proceedings, and many of them just sat down as their tired little legs gave way. The Amazon-like Ring Pull was having nothing of this, and called them all in to be shamed for their lack of stamina. Wanky Poo disappeared in a trice, leaving Lacy Lady, Iron Crotch, Quicksand, Faker and Down Under to down the amber fluid.

The Mystery Mystery Whip was another one whose brain had gone off to Alpha Centauri since she had forgotten all about it and had no charges ready. So Quicksand had another down-down.

Now do you see what I mean about the somewhat lacklustre circle performance. People lolling everywhere, virtually inaudible singing, forgetful whips - honestly, I've invigilated examinations more lively than this.

At least Banjo added something to the proceedings in his presentation of Prick of the Week. He reminded us of the care taken of it by first-time awardee Ripper, who had added the flashing light. He also reminisced about the original Pussy of the Week, which had become so unpopular that it had been ceremonially buried at Sime Road Cemetery. Now it's been revived for some reason. Banjo found this odd for some reason and whipped Gypsy - God knows why. I was drifting off myself at this point.

Vietnam Rose bounced into the circle to promote the Dinner Dance, asking for bottle donations. Strapless is in charge of skits and Squire is doing the t-shirt parade. Iron Crotch and Mad Dog are handling ticket sales.

Too Wet wanted to inform us that a US ship will be in town for the next sex - sorry - six weeks.

Zipp, who had obviously been asleep, commented on the sex in the circle. Been there, done .that, averred Ring Pull, and promptly gave her a down-down.

And that was it, dear readers. No AOB stories, even from the stalwarts. Weariness had set in, and a lot of hashers didn't even make the on-on. A shame, as the food was very good. Footrot didn't seem to mind, as he ended up on a table with just him and seven women. Watch that man, Puss in Boots.

Actually, I'm feeling a bit tired just writing this. Perk up a bit next week, guys - I can't make bricks without straw, you know.

And even the Spell Check has got bored and gone to the cinema…(I think I'll go too - Ed.)

On (YAWN) On

Black Widow

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