Run No. 961                                                                Members:      45

Date: Friday, 23 February 2001                                Guests:           20

Where: Dempsey Road Car Park                             Virgins:             1

Hares: Indianus & Black Widow                                Visitors:           4

 (Beta Bitch & Omega Bitch)                           Returnees:       3

Better get this show on the road pretty quickly as I normally write up the report on Monday but cant this week as the poor arthritic old dog has to go and get sorted out tomorrow (You’re too hard on yourself – Ed.) - Spider, I mean. Pecker Checker’s going to stuff him full of steroids or something.  Wonder if she can do the same for me….

Stuffy suggested that I should name this the Monty Python run. (A right pair of bloody comedians set it, anyway – Ed.) Did you all like the sideshow as four police cars rolled up and disgorged their contents to deal with one rather worried looking snake? And the wildlife aspect of the run didn’t stop there, as poor old Ring Pull, who is having a hashing week she would probably rather forget, having done a mega amount of damage to her car on Wednesday, got attacked by hornets in the first hundred metres. Anyway, the run itself was a back-check infested romp around the Sultan’s Palace and the Botanic Gardens which managed to turn the pack around on several occasions and annoyed Ad Nauseam so much that he swore at me as he found himself at the back again – so that’s all right then. Poor Warlike Talkie nearly expired of fright when she found herself leading the pack halfway round and actually had to do a spot of running. (Did she remember how? – Ed.) And although Flakey tried to insinuate that the trail was laid with flour, chalk and beer cans, well, that’s just a vicious lie – and personally I blame Indy, anyway.

Astronut called for order and dragged your hapless hares into the circle to be heaped with calumny by the assembled mob, who were in fact charitable enough to agree that it was a good run. The on-on was announced at the ever-popular Samy’s Curry, not a million miles away from the car park.

Next week’s hares are Squire and Aftershock, somewhere in Sembawang, I think. Sorry, I was having trouble following, what with being a hare,  trying to scribe, trying to keep my balance in the Fuck Me shoes, etc.

One virgin was welcomed – Mida. Visitors were Hash Bunny from Frankfurt, Yoko from the Harriets, Friar from U.K., Jeff Fucking Barron from Seletar hash and Miscarriage from Gold Coast.

We had some returnees as well – Comes Too Soon, Deep Valley and Nam.

Well, we both wanted to be the Hare Whips – both loving the sound of our own voices as we do - so I started, firstly calling out King Leer for a totally trumped-up story about my putting the first loop in as I knew he was going to be late. (I thought it was a pretty harmless bit of – well – lying, actually, but Indy got me for it later, as you will see.) I called in Loose Change because she stopped halfway up Tanglin Road to check her make–up – the vain minx! Not Tonight and Flakey were also noticed as being the only ones to go through the stinking drain with the rotting bedstead climb-out. I asked the reprobates to drink. My seething co-hare then leapt into the circle to carry on, and of course got moi first, moaning and bitching about my effrontery in saying I laid the first loop when, of course, she did, thus demonstrating that my creativity was unappreciated.  And she also focused on the horrid drain, this time to punish the wimpy lot who found a way round it and led the rest of the pack that way as well. Ad Nauseam, Coo Chi Coo and Strapless. And Not Tonight was noticed for talking about real estate prices at the Sultan’s Palace – so kiasu, lah! Now, for some reason Indy insisted on calling them retrobates, which is a word that even my dictionary doesn’t recognize. (Would you want this person teaching you English? – Ed.) Perhaps she was just showing a little creativity of her own.

Then on to the fashion parade part of the evening. If you remember, owing to the on-going struggle over the Fuck Me shoes, this had been designated a Fuck Me shoes run, with prizes for the most exotic footwear on display. Of course, it was the lads that stole the show, although Faker and Walkie Talkie put up a valiant  defence, and saddo Alpha Bitch was still trying to get some recognition for her Fuck Me flip-flops. Coo Chi Coo minced around in a pair of orange wedges that brought him up to an almost respectable height. Chastity Belt did a very convincing Indy impersonation in strappy gold stilettos and a very short sarong, enjoying himself far too much, we all noted. He insists he bought the tart shoes specially for the occasion but he looked much too comfortable in them for that, if you ask me. But it was the antipodean Ripper who brought his own agenda into the picture as he wore a large and very unsexy pair of Wellingtons. A sign around his neck helpfully informed everyone that they were his Fuck Ewe shoes. Ho ho! Humour on the hash! So he was awarded the prize of a bottle of wine and all contestants were given condoms just in case the shoes showed signs of working at any stage during the evening.

There were a number of awards to give away, but although I’d picked up the pewter – as well as setting two runs this week, doing the report etc. silly me had forgotten the T-shirts, and Alpha Bitch wasn’t going to be magnanimous and let that one go, was she? Large, slow-moving target moi (I’m speaking metaphorically, you understand…) was forced into the third down-down of the evening and of course my writing becomes even more unreadable after this stage.

Anyway, I don’t know why anyone cares about the t-shirts as everyone stripped off anyway, just to get the attention. First off was Wacky Pooh, who flashed her undies with gay abandon and received her 200 runs tankard. Dickless was next up also for 200 runs, and couldn’t wait to flash his rippling pecs. Double Back had chosen a nifty little cruet set for her 300 runs award, and Ring Pull had stuffed them into her bra which gave her a decidedly peculiar post- Madonna look. And finally Chastity Belt – still wearing the gold stilettos (I see what you mean about him enjoying it too much – Ed.) sashayed in for his 200 runs award as well.

Mystery Whip Barbarian started close to home by telling tales on his significant other. Bushy had gone skipping merrily off to work with her hash bag forgetting a fairly important feature – her running shoes. Nipping out at lunchtime to get a cheap replacement pair, she was seduced (What? Over lunch? – Ed.) – wait, I haven’t finished – she was seduced into splurging $70 on a pair of Nikes. But did she look after the new purchase? No, she just abandoned them in the car park and Barbarian had to rescue them.

Enough of these insights into the pair’s domestic arrangements. Barbarian went on to describe a scene on the run reminiscent of “The Great Escape”, as the pack had to manoevre itself through loads of barbed wire. Most managed okay, but Stoopy myopically blundered into it and nearly garrotted himself. And Miscarriage from the Gold Coast found another hazard when he found a hole and cleverly disappeared into it up to his neck.

Delegator was the Mystery Mystery whip and was duly impressed by the snake show at the start of the run. She decided that Aftershock was a bit of a snake charmer herself as she arrived late but magically ended up at the front of the pack. (Sign of a well-laid run if you ask me  – Ed.) And Yoko was whipped for finding all the shorts cuts, which is perfectly okay, and boasting about it to the whip – which is probably not advisable.

She dragged Molester out for a farewell drink even though he’s not actually leaving yet. Do you think he’ll finally take the hint and bugger off properly this time???

No Good’s week with the Prick has obviously been an interesting one as it is looking in an even more parlous state than it was last Friday. And it was this feature she highlighted as she called in Alpha Bitch for not taking care of it properly. As some wit called out, “Take it, Ring Pull – it’s a free willy!” Geddit? Oh never mind…

Pussy of the Week was Phoney who wittered on about the year of the snake, the snake on the run etc. - and got Sybil for helping the police catch the errant python.

Sybil, of course, had to come back with something but I got distracted at this point. She whipped Haircut, anyway. And I’m sure he deserved it.

Astronut ponced around with the new t-shirt design, someone blithered on about Frankfurt and Indy exhorted people to run in JB sometime. Forgive me. I’m fading here.

The on-on was well attended and Diskless was brilliant on the singing front. Somehow I got persuaded (twist my arm) to go to Muddy Murphy’s for the on-on-on. It all goes pear-shaped from there…. (So you’re not going to tell them about the rest of your weekend then? – Ed.) Certainly not.

On on!

Blanket Winder

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