Run
No. 958
Members: 48
Date:
Friday 2 February 2001
Guests: 21
Where:
Mandai Quarry
Virgins: 3
Hares:
Rooning Shit and Ripper
Visitors: 3
Don’t
expect much from me this week – here am I suffering from post-champagne brunch
tristesse and general alcoholic remorse so you’re lucky you’re getting
anything at all, I can tell you. It was a good brunch on the whole, and apart
from waking up as a small green mushroom at Paulaner Brauhaus at around 5 p.m.,
I think I acquitted myself pretty well…(Stop whingeing and get on with it
– Ed.) Okay, but I think I need another gallon of tea before I can begin
to decipher my own personal form of shorthand…
Well,
it was a good run, wasn’t it? In fact, if the worst thing you can say about a
run was that it was too short, the hares haven’t done badly. A great trail
around the quarry environs that managed to bugger most of the front-runners up
(yippee!) several times and gave the rest of us lots of jungly trails to explore
and shiggy bits to get muddy in. I past Aye Aye at one stage and commented that it was rare to see him
actually on the run as he is a perpetual late-comer. Was he on holiday? I enquired. No,
he cryptically replied. I just haven’t got
Saliva with me tonight. Apparently,
it’s all her fault. Back through the jungle there was a division of trails but
a lot of the front-runners missed the loop. Some cretins actually did the
moon-walk up the rock pile but most of us were sensible enough to give that one
a body swerve and arrive back at the beer wagon a tad after 6.45 as the
thickening shades of dusk gathered round. Very nice too.
Everyone
liked the run, so when Astronut
called the hares in for their down-downs there was no dissent for the Good
Run call, except for the predictable wags who yelled out –
“Too short!” – and thought they were being original. Running
Shit and Ripper did the business,
and announced the on-on at Karu’s Curry, no doubt hoping to make up numbers
with the odd drunken souls who were still there under the table after last week.
Next
week’s hares - Sara Lee and Doggie
Style – were not in evidence but the run is somewhere on East Coast
Parkway, which brought a bit of a groan from Harriets present who were trying to
forget Wednesday’s marathon lope around the National Stadium.
Hare
Whip was Crooning Shit who called in Coo
Chi Coo - who is called in so often he should be referred to as a large,
slow-moving target - except everybody would laugh. Coo
Chi Coo was boasting about his run tally of something over five hundred and
telling the unwilling recipient of this earth-shattering bit of knowledge that
he used to be this big. I’m gesturing, you know. This big. Geddit? Oh well, I guess you’ll have to wait till the
video comes out.
Running
Shit
was definitely focusing on the senior members of the hash fraternity as his next
charge was against the ever-dainty Cheeky,
whom he dragged, protesting, into the circle. How
many years has she been hashing? he demanded. Cheeky pleaded the First
Amendment (Isn’t that something to do with the right to bear arms? – Ed.)
Obviously the American Constitution is not Cheeky’s
strong point. RS gave her a bit
of fatherly advice – never piss off the hare or the GM. (Or the scribe –
Ed.) Too true. Well, Cheeky
managed to piss both off by calling on-on before the eager Astronut
had even made it to the first check – and being way off trail anyway. As Ring
Pull sportingly announced to the serried masses, Cheeky
was actually having a pee at the time. And I thought Cheeky
was like the Queen – you know, the idea of her having bodily functions is
somehow not quite nice, if you see
what I mean.
Ring
Pull
called in the Virgins, a Kiwi and an Aussie called David
and Mark – and a retread virgin
from last week – Colin. I quite
fancied one of them but I can’t remember which. Typical.
Visitors
welcomed in were Dr. Fleshmann (it
says here), Coen and Claire.
Ring Pull went through the usual rigmarole of Where are you from? What’s your home hash? Do you go down
on first dates? etc., which slightly lost the attention of the rowdy crowd
and made Astronut work hard for his position (Don’t elaborate on that
– Ed.) – as GM, I mean,
prowling around the circle and glaring at the offenders in a valiant effort to
keep control. Hope you get more respect from your minions in your day job, Astronut!
Let’s
leave Astronut prowling around in
fat-cat fashion (Now you’re getting personal!– Ed.) and move on to
the Mystery Whip. In slid the suave Peeking
Ong, although the Linguist
brothers did their collective best to take over initially. More of the terrible
twins later. Peeking Ong called for
silence, ably abetted by the politically correct Coo Chi Coo who exhorted us all to show some “respect for the Chink.” So the Chink
called in Dirty Hacker but took
time out to give CCC a down-down for
being a racist. “I’m not a racist,” ejaculated CCC. (Are you allowed
to do that in the circle? – Ed.)
- “I don’t mind Kiwis.” Oh, the hilarity. Laugh? I nearly woke up.
Anyway,
Dirty Hacker was whipped for needing
two other guys to keep him on trail the whole time, despite the fact that he’s
done more runs than most of the rest of the hash combined. It was starting to
look like “Let’s get the old farts”
time, and
I was beginning to fear for the seriously age-challenged such as Phoney Dick and King Leer
but the Ongster thankfully stopped
there and whipped Barbarian and Astronut
for showing Hacker the way home.
Here it gets a bit surreal as my notes say “Barbarian
= lookalike Faker”. Beats me.
Someone should be insulted, I think.
Secondly,
the Chink called out Sybil
and Aftershock for blindly following him throughout the run. I think he
wanted someone to blither on about his magnetic personality. (Irony, surely?
– Ed.) No doubt – and don’t call me Shirley. Fnar, fnar!
Actually,
the Mystery Whip was keeping the circle in a holding pattern while Alpha
Botch busied herself with the milestone awards. Stash
bellied up for his “252 Runs” tee-shirt which was fetchingly tight over
his suntanned wee bod. Sorry about that, Stash.
I underestimated your – er – dimensions somewhat. Then Running Shit finally got his “2— Runs” shirt and tankard –
the lack of 0s was looking a bit apparent here. His shirt was too small as well.
But he didn’t seem too bothered as Ring
Pull went through the sex-in-the-circle stuff and Free Willy joined in.
Barbarian
was
the lucky recipient of the last 2 0s – I made sure to save them for him as
this chap takes the hash seriously. Have you heard about his leather bound hash
diaries? I kid you not. 100 runs may be 100 runs to you, but to the doughty Barbarian
they represent 100 orgasmic experiences of semi-religious fervour. Alpha
Bitch went through some farrago about his recent near-death experience when
– he tells us – everything swelled up to twice its normal size (That
would be about three inches then? – Ed.) and he wriggled his way into the
tee-shirt, revealing come sexy black undies as he did so.
Of
course, Hash Brew – whose last run in Singapore this was – was expecting
something to happen to mark his passing. Now we’re a nice bunch on the Friday
hash. Not for us the humiliations of the housewives’ hash who insisted on
decking the Texan one in full fetish gear complete with stockings and high heels
just for a cheap laugh – (More’s the pity – Ed.) No, we just sing
him the song with the title you can’t tell your mother and make him run round
the circle eleven times as he’s only done 89 runs and if he wants his tankard
he’s damn well going to work for it. Assortment’s (the Spell Check strikes!) notoriously erratic vocal
chords started fraying at the edges with the excitement and he went into
homicidal mouse mode a couple of times, but he squeaked (ho ho!) past these
embarrassments with an insouciance born of years of realising that there is no
point trying to stop people laughing at you – they will anyway. And he got
lots of advice about how to adjust his obviously too tight underwear. Anyway, we
all thankfully heaved our attention away from the GM’s knickers and gave a
heartfelt farewell to Free Willy.
He’s been a great Hash Brew and a good sport – he’ll be much missed.
Jason
finally got his Ang Pow – God knows where Ring
Pull had been keeping it for the last week as it was in a terribly wrinkled
state. What has that girl been up to? I know she and Willy are going to be separated for a while but
- really!
Mystery
Mystery Whip was a shanghaied Beta Bitch who only wanted to advertise an upcoming Wednesday run
but was pressed into whippery service. Again the Linguist twins attempted to foist themselves upon the ranks but were
bundled off. Indy did her advertising
bit for the Australia Day run by showing us all a little bit of green cloth and
stating that that’s what we’ll get if we do the run. And aforesaid cloth has
pics of rabid Aussies like Ripper and Coo Chi
Coo on it. Now if you consider that an inducement, your life is obviously
even sadder than mine…
Anyway,
she decided to pick on Australians, calling out Ugly
Bum, who found a mattress on the run but didn’t know what to do with it. Running
Shit offered to give UB some
lesson about mattress abuse.
Beta
then went on to complain about walkers on the run. The cheek! I can barely write
this without self-combusting in indignation. Apparently, some walkers on the run
did not get out of her way. The selfishness
of some people. How dare they! Cookie
was approved because she knew her place and threw herself into the shrubbery
as soon as she noticed the superior, god-like runners behind her, but Aftershock
and Warlike Talkie had the temerity
to keep right on – gasp! – walking.
And not moving out of the way. Should be flogged, I say, but they got down-downs
instead.
Beta
Bitch
had yet another complaint. She was stuck in a ditch somewhere near the beginning
of the run and no gentlemen helped her out. (And they talk about whingeing poms!
– Ed.) I call it bloody wimpish as well, but it’s her story. Depositor
tried to leap the offending barrier but fell in so he was no use. Strapless
offered to help her pout but demonstrated that he’s several sandwiches short
of a picnic of the brain-cell variety by leaping into the pit with her and thus
trapping himself – Duh! It took the gallant Free Willy to finally release the Whingeing Oz from her confinement.
Ring
Pull
called the hapless Strapless back
into the circle.as he neglected to bring the Prick of the Week.
Another
member of the –Less family – Shoeless
– called in the fast-becoming-incoherent-due to-alcoholic-overload Running Shit for one of these interminable stories about football
that conversationally-challenged men think passes for - well – er –
conversation. So, like any normal person, I immediately forgot it.
Alpha
Bitch rounded, snarling, on
her co-GM and hauled him into the circle to grovel to the assembly about
forgetting the cards again. Here he is, brain the size of a planet and
car to match, and he can’t even remember a tiny detail like the cards. So
please stop having a go at me about
them, as poor carless moi handed that
responsibility on to Astronut some
time back – so if you want to have a go, have a go at Astronut
– please. Or better still, volunteer to be on next year’s committee. Ah,
I thought that would shut you up….
Moving
right along, AOB saw King Leer asking
the rhetorical question, “What do women want?”. Answers on a postcard,
please. Apparently, he watched the film last week and decided that the
now-on-hands-and-knees-and-babbling-fluent-Hungarian Crooning Shit looked like Mel Gibson. (Which one was the more
pissed? – Ed.)
And
then, to the stunned amazement of the massed hordes, Bagels
hove into view to give us some interhash news. Yes folks, it lives, it breathes,
it’s your very own, newly-minted Interhash On-Sec. To thunderous applause, I
give you – Bagless!!!
You
know, when I end this I’m going to award myself a great big gin and tonic (And
it’s only 8.30 a.m. – Ed.) as I seem to have been chained to this
keyboard since slightly before the French Revolution. There was yet more AOB
from Flakey who told a joke that
required three Scottish gits, obviously Babbles,
Corny Linguist and Aye
Aye. It was all about the Prince of Wales opening a hospital and in the end
it was the Burns Unit. That was the punch line, so there it is. You want to tell
jokes in the circle, fine – but don’t expect me to write ‘em up when the
pub’s opening…
And
Coo Chi Coo just couldn’t be held
back. He had to pull in the Carney Linguist lookalike - and now dressed alike – Christof,
who was a virgin last week. CCC
decided that he needed a name and with typical Australian wit, intelligence and
all-round brilliance decided that because he was dressed like Corny
Linguist and was German he should be called - Herr Linguist. Give that boy a Nobel Prize. So Christof became the second, and possible last, member of the Linguist
family.
And
finally it was time for the on on at Karu’s and a spot of final farewellery to
Free Willy. Various people tried to
persuade him to have a go at the fish-head eyeballs for good luck, but he was
having none of it. Astronut and the
sliding-under-the-table Crooning Shit
got some singing going and it was altogether jolly good fun. I’m not saying
much about the journey homewards in
Flakey’s car with about twelve others, just suffice it to say that I piled
out gratefully at Sixth Avenue. In one piece.
I
wonder if they ever made it to Anywhere….
On
on!
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Winder
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