Run No. 944
Date: Friday 27 October 2000
Where: Upper Seletar Reservoir Pavilion
Hares: Death Wish 4, Sybil Aftershock and Squire
Members: No idea
Guests: Ditto
Virgins: 1
Visitors: 2
Returnees: 3 - if you include Molester

I think it was General Custer who said, "The only good Indian is a dead Indian," but he got paid back in a big way for that, didn't he? We were royally treated by a gaggle of very much alive Indians to a great run around varied terrain with some testing checks that ensured I kept catching up with all the front runners right to the end. Of course it helped that a worried DW4 cruised round most of the run in his high-cost-hooker-mobile and broke most of his own checks. I was delighted to find that the run had a heavy inclination to the Old Farts Club - even Captain Red Arrow made a welcome return. There they all were - Boggles, Aye Aye, Phoney, King Leer, Saliva - oops - I promised not to include her in the group…. All in all a jolly good run, anyway - good length, good checks, lots of countryside and helpful hares. Back at the run site, they had provided all sorts of stuff to augment the Deepavali festivities - lots of Indian snacks - and Aftershock was bejewelling everyone in sight. Various wannabe Indians togged themselves up in Indian style, notably Indianus and our stars - the Starrs. Do you know that Falsies and Armadildo had never heard of the Hash before they came to Singapore? Now we don't know what we're going to do without them…While Indy and I were changing by their car, she revealed that she is a bear of very little brain by admitting that she hadn't understood my reference to alpha (bitch) female GM Ring Pull until she read a book about she-wolves. Of course, in the middle of this conversation an ominous snarl came from behind us. "You talking about me?" rasped the aforementioned GM. I don't know about you, but by God, she frightens me. (That's a quote from Wellington, by the way. Don't say I don't teach you anything.)

Anyway, back to the circle report. Not as much incident or event as last week, which is a sort of relief in a way. Astronut managed to arrive in time to start the circle by calling in the hares for their Good Run accolade. Then, obviously bemused by being in the right place at the right time, he forgot to ask them about their on-on and called for next week's hares. Of course, the multitude gently reminded him of the time-honoured order of events so the hares were allowed to inform us of the on site on-on - Indian food, obviously, but they were particularly clueless when it became to the beer arrangements.

Next week's hare is the tiny-but-perfectly-formed Titmouse and the run is at Jalan Kampong Chantek.

Armless had dragged along his hapless nephew, Sascha, who although a virgin, was sporting a Lion City 500th Run t-shirt.

Visiting hashers were represented by a fugitive from the Harriets. Confucius protested loudly, but was still dragged in. She had obviously got the dressing-up ideas slightly wrong as she was spotting a weird gypsy headdress - or maybe it was a bad hair day.

Ebenezer was given the usual - and unprintable (oh come on - my parents read this, for heaven's sake!) farewell refrain. She's off to England, and will be much missed. She was also off to see Comes Alone in Tan Tock Seng hospital where he has been warded for tests. We all wish him the best and look forward to seeing the front-running bastard in his usual position very soon.

Returnee Captain Red Arrow - a founder member Old Fart - was welcomed back. As was Steptoe. And - er - by popular acclaim - Molester. (You're joking, surely? - Ed.) Sadly, no. The entire circle bayed for his appearance, and the large slow-moving target lumbered grudgingly into the circle. "Why is it always me?" he whinged pathetically. Because you're there, Molester, that's why.

Astronut called in the Hare Whip, which turned out to be Squire, commending his co-hares for heroically recceing on Deepavali. He then called in all the Indian wannabes who performed an impromptu bit of dancing - although what Coo Chi Coo was doing with Indianus looked more like something out of a hard-core porn video. Then Astronut decided he'd had enough and spoil-sported the whole thing by turning the music off. He so hates not being the centre of attention, doesn't he?

Zipp was the Mystery Whip, and had only one charge. This was because someone had complained to her that the circles were getting far too long. Guess who? Yes, it was Molester yet again. Idiot boy!

The cheap-seat rowdies behind me were distracting me at this stage. They were having such a good time private partying that I wished I could join them. You know who you are, Iron Crotch, Ugly Bum, Hand Job and Loose Change.

Mystery Mystery Whip was Phoney Dick, who had plumbed the Straits Times for inspiration and came up with the report that curry improves your sex life. Unfortunately the Old Fart shot himself in the foot by forgetting Squire's hash name not once but twice, and was chastised by Astronut for this and forced to do a down-down. Squire is apparently the epitome of Indian sexiness (Oh really? - Ed.) because he bungs cinnamon in his curry when he feels frisky - or his wife does.

Armless was the MMM Whip. He avers that one thing pisses him off about Deepavali runs, and that is that DW4 always shows off his assets - over the last couple of years we've run past his fat-cat properties and this time we were shepherded by his swanky car. "What're you going to show off next year?" he asked DW4. "My bicycle," says Death Wish. Which led Armless into an anecdote about having his bike nicked last week and finding that Coo Chi Coo had swollen balls (Excuse me? - Ed.) - look, I just report - OK? - decided that obviously CCC was the culprit and the saddle was too high for him. Well, it was funny at the time. I mean, Armless has a very silly German accent and CCC is a very silly Australian person, so the charge doesn't really have to make sense, does it?

The ubiquitous CCC was back in the circle again to award the Pussy and the Tongue. The tongue had had an exciting week as CCC gave it to No Good for safe (ha!) keeping. She took it to work and unwittingly set it off vibrating away while her boss was prowling around. Well, that's what she says, anyway. Maybe she was having a stressful day and fancied a bit of light relief. (Stop this now - Ed.) Sorry. Back to CCC. He awarded the Pussy to a narcissistic Free Willy for showing off his muscled torso. And Faker got the Tongue for sprawling languorously all over the grass at the start of the run obviously in need of a good seeing-to.

The Venerable Prick made a welcome return in the hands of Too Good. Bent and useless it may be, but like all Old Farts, we like it for its character and wit, rather than its youth. Too Good quoted the infamous PSLE question - what is the final number of the sun of the numbers from 1 to 97? She dragged in an engineer, Aye Aye, and a teacher, King Leer, and challenged them to provide the answer. Of course, King Leer said, with quite a lot of us, 3, while Aye Aye just looked bemused. Now since the answer was published in the press, all that proves is that teachers read newspapers and engineers don't. (Is that because engineers can't read? - Ed.) Ooh - nasty!

Vietnam Rose was trying to sell tickets for the dinner dance when the police arrived. Alpha Female GM was all for going over and sorting them out but was restrained by Alpha Male Hash Brew. So much testosterone in that family!

While Squire dealt with the Law, Well Laid told the circle about Comes Alone's hospital incarceration.

Then it was time for AOB - No Good got Hungry Bum for saying that hashes in England were more fun. Not true, by the way. Been there, done that.

And the ever-retiring and self-effacing Coo Chi Coo told a recycled Monday Hash (ptui!) joke. It goes like this:
It's assessment time in a lunatic asylum. Who is to be released? The panel ask three inmates a simple question. What is 3 x 3? First inmate says "257". Sorry, you can't go. Second inmate says, after a pause, "Tuesday1" No, you can't go either. Third inmate doesn't hesitate. "9!" he says. Well done, says the panel. How did you get it so quickly? "Simple," says the inmate. "It's 257 divided by Tuesday!" Now we know the level of wit on the Monday Hash,

Then it was on-on time at the pavilion, with music and dancing thrown in. Faker was in a particularly frisky mood, flashing her assets at me, Indianus, and a puzzled dog or two. Molester bewailed his status as hash whipping boy. BC plastered my cleavage with little jewels. Kiasu Lun tried to lick them off. (Come on - you're just making it up as you go along - Ed.) Oh well, it was all getting a little alcohol-fuelled by this stage. All had a good night, no one threw anything at Indy and my sarong didn't fall off. Well, not until later, anyway…

And I'm off to join my other Old Farts Club at the Colbar.

On on!

Blink Window

On-Back to Weekly Scribe Reports Index.

On-Back to Lion City HHH homepage.