Run No. 949

Date: Friday I December 2000

Where: Outside the Riding School for the Disabled/Polo Club

Hares: Lots of men in skirts and their wee wifeys

Members: 52

Guests: 21

Virgins: 3

Visitors: 2

Returnees: 5

 

Hoots, mon! ‘Twas a braw, bricht moonlit nicht tonicht and this “wee sleekit, cowrin’ tim’rous beastie” had a lot of panic in her breastie – (Enough with the cod Scottish accent – you’re not impressing anybody just because you remember a bit of Burns from primary school! – Ed.) You’re very stern today. Get out of bed on the wrong side, did we? - I was just trying to give the hares due deference, and anyway I did have panic in my breast as I arrived late and had to do a quick catch-up job, aided by a couple of the hares. In fact there seemed to be a hare lurking about every 100 metres or so to ensure that people stayed on trail in a very tight area. But they made wonderful use of the countryside around the polo Club and into Bukit Brown cemetery with the in-trail coming in on the other side of the drain from the out-trail. Devilish cunning, these kilted barbarians. There was a bit of a screw-up at the loop in the cemetery as quite a few unsporting old timers – you know who you are – went forward at the loop and took many of the pack with them. Just not cricket, if you ask me. Anyway, I did the loop, so ended up at the back yet again. Never mind – it was a great scenic run and arriving back at the run site at dusk, accompanied by the melancholy wails of bagpipes and being offered large cups of grog was a treasurable experience.

 

I was party to a slightly bizarre conversation as I was walking to get changed. I stopped to have a word with Gypsy, who was absent-mindedly fingering a nipple of the Pussy. Alpha Bitch also stopped and asked him if he was interfering with the plastic surgery she had recently given it in order to reattach the dangling nipple. “No,” said Gypsy in a bemused and wounded fashion, “but the staple repairing it keeps pricking my arse.” Ring Pull and I exchanged arch looks, and RP enquired pointedly exactly why the Pussy’s nipple had been ensconced in Gypsy’s derriere. He tried to fob us off with some innocent explanation, but the damage was done. Latest recipient of the Pussy, take note. You know exactly where it’s been.

 

The crowd was in a good mood after copious amounts of whisky and unanimously awarded the run Good Run status. The Och Aye boys comprised Bogless, Aye Aye, Dog Shit, Corney Linguist, Ad Nauseam and Gobbler. The on-on at the relocated Lakeview was announced. I groaned. It’s where my toothless wizened paramour chases me round the tables. Not a pretty sight, I can tell you. Could I finally get him to transfer his attentions to another blonde? Ring Pull? Doggie Style? I shouldn’t be selfish, after all…. (Get back to the circle and keep your personal problems out of it – Ed.)

 

Next week’s run is our 950th at Bukit Batok somewhere with hares Careless, Pandora’s Box and Iron Crotch. Careless tells me he’s found a dead dog on the run and is going to set a check right over the rotting and stinking carcase. What a shame I won’t be there…

 

Ring Pull welcomed in the virgins. Firstly Phil, who pranced around dementedly exclaiming, “Doggie Style made me come!” several times. Cowboy and Danny were more restrained.

 

Visitors Gurwant and Harpal enjoyed the run so much that they buggered off before the circle.

 

But we had a flotilla of returnees. Gobbler, the redoubtable Captain Flakey, The Phantom who had obviously – er – disappeared, Sex Pistol and Jig-a-Jig.

 

Hare Whip Aye Aye seemed determined to counter the rumour that engineers can’t read by reading an extract of local criminal law, which states that it is an offence to carry an offensive weapon in public. Obviously this law had to refer to Squire’s enormous dong at the D + D, which was certainly in the offensive category. Aye Aye moved on to call in the unsung girls of tonight’s run, like Saliva – to witty cries of “There’s no one like Saliva”. Ho ho. Also Chilli Balls and Delegator, for all their help on the run. Bur this was really just a ruse to highlight the recent findings – and here with a huge effort he started reading again, although he had to use his finger to trace the words – that men use half a brain to listen while women use both hemispheres. Various misogynistic cries from the unreconstructed Neanderthals present (yes, I’m talking about you, Coo Chi Coo) such as - “You don’t need more than half a brain if you’re listening to a woman,” etc etc. And you don’t need to be original if you’re a man, obviously…

 

Aye Aye had been using up whatever little of his brain he uses by the effort of reading and hadn’t enough cells left to enable him to remember anybody’s hash name, which did not go unnoticed or unpunished by Astronut. Aye Aye was this dismissed, only to be replaced by Hare Whip 2, Corney Linguist.  He noted that his co-hares had sent him off to sweep the trail without bothering to inform him where the trail went, and he couldn’t possibly work it out with his half-brain. No Good apparently cleverly got him to escort her back by claiming she’d been bitten by a snake when in fact she hadn’t.  (Think that about wraps the no-brain argument – Ed.)  Corney whimpered that this sort of thing upsets “we sweepy types” and demanded that she and his co-hares had “a little drinky-poo.”  Second childhood just around the corner, Corney…

 

Ring Pull had an award for Tiny Winky, but she barely had time to announce it before he leapt into the circle, tearing off his t-shirt in an embarrassing display of exhibitionism. Never has the cry of “On! On! On!” been more heartfelt. He down-downed for 50 runs.

 

Free Willy was having a bit of dissension in the ranks and rounded on a distracted Zippo to keep up. Runs a tight ship, that boy.

 

Now it was time for Alpha Bitch to present a couple of left over awards for Best Whips of the Year – to Banjo and G-String. Banjo did it with an alligator and G-String took on the massed ranks of the US Navy. Always ready for a challenge, we hashers.

 

It was finally time for the Mystery Whip, who turned out to be the ever-courteous Impossible. His first charge was to So Cunt Chong for coming up with a novel idea for hands-free sexual gratification – he was overheard whilst changing asking Iron Crotch to reach into his shorts pocket and find his car keys. Yeah, right! Iron Crotch sensibly refused. His second charge concerned the fact that as we all know, Impossible is a keen photographer and had taken lots of pics at the D + D which he had painstakingly sorted into envelopes for the individuals concerned and used valuable drinking time delivering them to the grateful recipients after the hash. Grateful, that is, except for Beagles, who gave the lovingly- delivered envelope a perfunctory glance and then carelessly folded it in half and stuffed it in his back pocket. “I though it was an invitation!” was his feeble defence. Down down!

 

On more visitor was announced – Betty Boop from Germany – who announced intriguingly “I did the run upside down!” Strange lot, these Krauts.

 

Now everyone cried for the Mystery Mystery Whip but Alpha Male Astronut was having nothing of this old-economy rigidity. He instead called in Vietnam Rose to give an account of the D + D accounts. Dressed in a tasteful (Ha! – Ed.) Scottish-themed outfit, she called in the entire D + D committee for thank you drinks. Well done! – You all did a great job. She had a special presentation to Loose Change for the decorations, and a thank you for Phooey Dick for letting her store her gazebos at his office. Now I wouldn’t know a gazebo is if crawled up my leg, (Isn’t it some sort of antelope? – Ed.) but I think she meant those free–standing white decorative things.

 

The excellent news was that the dance raised S$3592 for charity. Vietnam Rose was given a down-down for her hard work as Committee Chairman.

 

Now Alpha Male allowed the pack their wish of the Mystery Mystery Whip which turned out to be – Vietnam Rose. It seemed like she’d never been away. There was some argy bargy about her hat which she was eventually allowed to wear in the circle (Coo Chi Coo -“Very nice, Rose. Pull it down a bit further.”)  She had an intriguing charge revolving around the fact that men compare dick sizes whilst women compare boob sizes, but Slipstream and Ivy were discovered comparing boob sizes, with Shitstream insisting that his were bigger. (Cries of - “Does this mean she’s got a bigger dick than him?” from the great unwashed.) Ivy and Shitstream were duly punished for this bizarre piece of one-upmanship. Her next charge brought us back to the half-brain, whole-brain bit. Armless, as MC for the Dinner Dance, had a great deal resting on his shoulders, and everyone was concerned that he was well prepared. “Ja, everything ready is,” was his calm response. “Do not asking me keep on doing.” Until he arrived at the venue only to find - duh! - that he had forgotten his bow tie. Whole-brain wifey Indecent Exposure had to run around rectifying the situation.

 

Pussy of the Week was the arse-punctured Gypsy. Ring Pull told the story of his arse-nipple interface to the delight of the crowd, although only TI Joe understood what a butt-plug was. Which might suggest something about his particular proclivities. (So how come you and Ring Pull know what it is? Ed.) Good point, but not one I’m going to follow up. Anyway, his first charge was for a “heinious” (sic) crime on Wednesday night. Of course, the first down-down should have been his for not knowing that, like the word “mischievous”, there is no “i” before the “-ous” ending. (The English lesson stops here. Get on with it! –Ed.) Now I happen to know that the crime he was talking about was when the hash interrupted two turtles copulating on the Harriets run and the frightened beasts separated and skeetered off on their separate ways. His line, which he tried out on Wednesday to the delight of myself and a couple of others but left the rest in mystified incomprehension – was that it was obviously a case of “tortoise interruptus” .Geddit? Oh, never mind. But what he was really offended about was that at last week’s run, when we were surrounded by throngs of out–for-a-cheap-thrill Bangladeshi workers, Indecent Exposure wanted to change her bra and she asked Gypsy to hold her towel to shield her from prying eyes. So that’s all she thinks of him, he wanted to know. Safe. Totally harmless. Not worth bothering about. “You bitch!” he cried, bruised male ego to the fore, as he called her in to receive the Pussy.

 

Prick of the Week was presented by Faker who got hubby in again for his tit-comparing session with Ivy. She also dragged in Ivy and her hubby, Foo Foo. All very domestic and cosy, and an advertisement for married life and all that, but I can’t for the life of me remember who got the Prick. Answers on a postcard, please….Do remember it had been a very long circle by this stage and my pen was leaking all over the place and – (Admit it – you went to the beer wagon for a refill, didn’t you? – Ed.) Not true – I was nicking Free Willy’s at the time. Taking my life in my hands. He’s got a terrible snarl, you know.

 

AOB – Everyone wanted to pile in now. Crooning Shit got in first saying he was trying to expand the Shit family so he was going to tell a story about virgin Phil, introduced by Sara Lee, who had been informing him how short a life span running shoes have in Singapore. Phil responded by saying he’d had his running shoes for fifteen years (Not that hard if you only run once a year – Ed.) True – but the circle thought it more likely a load of bullshit and various names were tried on for size. In the end, Roofing Shit got what he wanted, a new member of the Shit family – Shoe Shit.

 

But the shit doesn’t stop here. Delegator had asked Dogshit whether virgin Danny was his son, and Dogshit had mendaciously (one for you, Coo Chi Coo) replied that he was. I think that about thirty people came up with the obvious name of – yes, you’ve got it – Puppy Shit. Thus the hash named two virgins in one evening and they both became members of the ever-growing Shit family. Will it never end?  All the Shits, including Blood Shit, got down- downs, and are now under a great deal of pressure to set a Shit run.

 

Sara Lee wanted to get Rooning Shit for saying this was the first time a virgin had been named on deflowering night (Not true! – Ed.) and said that Gypsy was named on his first night. (Not true either! – Ed.) Sara Lee obviously didn’t know if it was Wednesday or Christmas at this point and he had the final down-down of the night as the circle collapsed in disarray and people lurched off into the darkness to get to the on-on.

 

So there we were back at the relocated Lakeview again, with my slobbering old geezer in full molest mode. At least he was spreading it about a bit this time (Sounds absolutely stomach- churning – Ed.) so I didn’t have to be the lucky recipient of all his attentions. And there were plenty of distractions as the hares had gone to quite a bit of trouble to entertain us, even if their lack of rehearsal time showed up rather in their group rendition of Scottish ditties. Aye Aye, resplendent in his new title of Singer of the Year, took the lead, and an abundance of song sheets ensured hash anticipation in a variety of keys, most of them off. The food was absolutely brilliant, too, so a rollicking good time was had by all. Well done, hares, for giving us another memorable St Andrews Day run.

 

I’m going back to England to recover for a couple of weeks.  I should be back for Christmas though. All presents gratefully received. A car would be nice…

 

On on!

 

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