Run No. 943
Date: Friday 20 October 2000
Where: Bukit Timah Railway Station
Hares: Haircut and Melon Balls
Members:
Guests:
Virgins: 2
Visitors: 1
Returnees: 0

Hands up who's seen "The Blair Witch Project." Right - so you can imagine how I felt as I found myself stumbling around a jungle trail totally alone and in the gathering shades of nightfall, wondering if anything nasty was going to loom out of the darkness. And so it did - but it was only Stash. The run started out reasonably enough - off toward old Holland Road via the big drains - but then all went horribly pear-shaped as we kept heading directly away from home as it became ever nearer to seven. "Ah, bus run," some of the old hands (as opposed to Old Farts) intoned sagely to each other. The venerable Boo was not so sure, and along with many others wisely turned back at the canal. The rest of us idiots crossed the canal and were treated to an ankle-breaking search for trail in increasingly darkening woodland. That's when I got detached - and increasingly full of trepidation and self-pity. Still, I managed to blunder out to Commonwealth Avenue and actually caught up with the pack as they emerged from another woodland check with cries of "Stuff it!" and we all set off home the quick (ha!) way. At least I tasted the heady delight of being absolutely at the front of the pack (Stash is my witness) at 7.30! I crawled in at 7.45 and was by no means the last. The phrase "Hash Shit!" was ominously on everyone's lips at the run site. Or almost everyone's, as the doughty Astronut was conspicuous by his absence, as was Haircut - and Melon Balls was growing somewhat agitated. Despite all this, alpha-female GM Ring Pull (Or 'alpha-bitch-female GM" as Astronut kept referring to her later) called the circle to attention without fellow GM, hares, or indeed, your scribe, in attendance. And if I'd known my notes were to be washed away in a sea of beer, I probably wouldn't have bothered. But more of that later….

So all of this is from memory and invention.

Next week's hares kicked off the proceedings, with Death Wish 4 telling us what a jolly good time we're going to have at the Deepavali run with all things Indian.

Virgins Tam and Ilona were welcomed, as was the sole visitor, Cesspool - or was it Cesspit? - from Australia.

Just when Ring Pull was revelling in her heady position of unadulterated power, in walked a sweaty Astronut accompanied by the hares. Astronut, proving that all that stuff about men having a good sense of direction is utter bollocks, had been wandering aimlessly around Old Holland Road - again - when rescued by Haircut. So they all got down-downs, and the hares had to go round again when they got the most universal call of hash shit since the term was invented. Ring Pull reminded us that before the run Melon Balls had informed her that the run would be exactly an hour. (Presumably, only if your name is Carl Lewis?- Ed.) Apparently what happened was they'd pieced together bits of all their previous runs and bike hash rides and just threw them all in. Still, they took it in good part and were very sporting about the whole thing, despite being nearly lynched, and were even more sporting at their Red Lantern on-on when they shouted beers for everyone, at which the fickle mob immediately declared that it was really a good run. (You're getting ahead of yourself - Ed.) Nearest I get to head, these days, but I see what you mean. Back to business.

New Member Anthony Wong was introduced and became the instant recipient of his very own hash name when Ring Pull told us she had bumped into him at quarter to seven trying to follow paper when all the canny ones were short cutting back. Wrong Way Wong was unanimously approved.

I noticed at this stage that Free Willy had decided he needed some help with the beer and had roped in the ever-helpful Gypsy. But this wasn't a case of sharing duties, more a case of master and slave. Gypsy attempted to pour a couple of mugs only to be roundly turned on by the power-crazed FW. "I'm in charge here, " he snarled menacingly. "You wash, I pour!" Still, he put all that testosterone fuelled aggression to good use when silencing the ever-less-respectful private partiers in the cheap seats behind me. Load of rowdies. Shouldn't be allowed.

The fragrant Astronut manfully carried on with GM duties and called for the Hare Whip, Melon Balls, and she called in the still gently steaming Haircut and Astronut for obvious reasons. And for her second charge, she brought in Sybil and Desperation, who had made it back in precisely one hour, thus, she averred, proving her point. (Ah - but they walked back from the first check - Ed.) Precisely.

The Mystery Whip was the well-prepared Desperation, who had easily enough presence to keep the rowdies under some sort of control. Her first charge was a whopper. (I thought that was her second charge? - Ed.) I'm coming to the tongue later. No, her first charge was to the unconverted rooted-in-the-past (and in his case, probably a long time in the past) chauvinist So Cunt Chong, who is as politically incorrect as his name. He was running behind Desperation with Big Hammer, and was heard to mutter "I thought the point of the hash was to find a nice arse and run behind it - and look where I end up." Don't think your arse is much to write home about, SCC, but let's leave that one. He made some attempt to justify himself, but was howled down by the multitude and made to do a well deserved penance. And obviously he's a bit short in the brain cell department - I mean, if you're going to insult a girl, you ought to first ensure that she's smaller than you! The Mystery Whip had the final say. "My name is Desperation - and don't cross me again!" I'd take that advice if I were you, SCC.

She went on to bewail the state of the Prick of the Week - the poor thing is in splints, the light doesn't work, and it's got no batteries - so what use is it? Now, I lose it here as I was distracted by what I think is a first - an honest hasher eager to inform me that he'd been credited with an extra run and wanted to highlight the fact. Yes, it was that meticulous I-keep-a-log-of-every-run-I-do sad bastard Barbarian. (Get a life! - Ed.) When I finally managed to get back to what was going on, Desperation had produced from her little bag an innovative sex toy - a large pink vibrating tongue of the mechanical variety. Who was to receive this intriguing artefact? Obviously hearing some rumours of the pathetic nature of my private life, Desperation offered moi as the first nominee. And I heard you, Coo Chi Coo, calling out, "I hope it comes with a retrieval string." Bastard. The next nominee was Ring Pull, who never gives her tongue a rest in the circle, but she gave a graphic demonstration of the length of her own. Totally inhuman. Finally, Desperation called in Coo Chi Coo, saying that it might add to his stature (geddit?) as a ladies' man. And he got it. And I had the retrieval string all ready too. Grrr!

Mystery Mystery Whip was the aforementioned CCC. The diminutive one remembered that at the Old Holland Road check, he suggested to Shit Stream that the trail would restart on the railway line. "Which railway line?" said the befuddled Shit Stream. We only have one in this country you know. Duh! And then he referred to a story about the Japanese marathon runner who said she owes it all to hornets. Well, we all know someone who can attest to the way that hornets help you run faster. Poor Wickless was made to suffer yet again for his various run-ins with the nasty little stingers. Finally, he made obvious reference to the sex survey which revealed that Malaysians only have sex 62 times a year. He called in Front Arse who revealed that he has it 400 times a week or something. Quicksand was asked if she noticed some discrepancy here - does he disappear a lot? And Coo Chi Coo's fantasies of doing it with a Japanese girl took a bit of a blow - don't even think it - when the survey stated that they only indulge 32 time a year - so G-String took the charge.

Ring Pull drew everyone's attention to the fact that after last week's reference to Wonderbras by Doggie Style, someone in the circle was attempting to flaunt her cleavage in excessive fashion. Well, all I was doing was attempting to flatter the GM's ever-growing cleavage flaunting (And ever growing cleavage? - Ed.) by imitation. Still, it got me a bit of attention, and I'm always up for that.

Then Indianus got called in for something to do with smoking - but here this whole let's- imitate-each-other thing was even more in evidence as it revealed that the two were dressed identically - except for the cleavage in Indy's case. (Bitch! - Ed.)

Prick of the Week was awarded by Molester. He gave it to No Good as she had been complaining about not having had it for a long time. So she's got the useless appendage to enjoy for the next week.

The Pussy was awarded by Airborne, who is obviously a refugee from the planet Zorg. At least, his thought processes seem to reveal an alien mind at work. I got called in again for all my pussy comments last week, Murkily was nominated for something I couldn't fathom, and Indy for making a noise like a banana. I think I'll leave it there….

AOB - All getting increasingly surreal at this point. Skidmarks called in Free Willy for shaving his back, which was certainly not evident from my view. Hash Brew poured his drink over his head and was roundly jeered. But at least he poured it over his own head.

Big Hammer complained about the quality of the newsletter typeface - which got him into trouble later, and then Sybil came in with some tale that I really couldn't follow at all. The circle sat down. Careless got called on. Careless threw his beer at the Grand Mistress. That which didn't hit her went all over my notes. All getting a bit fraught at this stage.

Astronut hauled in Big Hammer and suggested that as he doesn't like this committee's newsletter he is a perfect nominee for next year's On Sec. As you can see, the spirit of hash camaraderie was fast disappearing, and I was pleased to disappear to the on-on.

Much better there. My table was particularly riotous, what with everyone comparing cleavages - Bagels won - and Ring Pull trying to inveigle information about everyone's first sexual experiences. I won't reveal too much, but of those who responded, Free Willy was the most precocious, and - gasp! - Indy the latest developer. Then Ring Pull's sarong fell off - which it continued to do all evening - leading to an entertaining g-string and underwear comparison. Ring Pull has a purple one, often revealed by her sliding sarong (ooh!), Indy a matching blue one (aah!) and Astronut saucily revealed a pair of bog-ugly running shorts (ugh!). Indy, obviously making up for lost time after her slow start in the bonking stakes, had managed to find a g-string with quick release snaps on both sides, which she demonstrated several times. This led to gasps of amazement from the stunned onlookers but no concrete offers. People started throwing napkins at Indy, knowing that she likes people to throw things at her. And then Phoney Dick started the singing. And so it went on. The Red Lantern is one of out favourite hash venues, and they obviously like us (Weird! - Ed) as they all said goodbye as they went home, leaving the light on for the group of sad no-homes-to-go-to types left at the end of the evening. And thanks again for the beers, hares - but no more two hour runs - please.

On on!

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