Run No. 962
Date: Friday 2 March 2001
Where:
Sembawang Park
Hares: Cookie, Squire and Aftershock
Guests:
17
Virgins:
0
Visitors:
7
The things I do for the hash. There I was, groaning on my bed of pain with a ruptured disc or something, but duty called, and I’d promised No Good to cover her hash cash duties, so I hobbled off to get the bus for a painful hour cross country… (It’s no use milking it, Black Widow – no one gives a stuff, so just get on with it – Ed.) Well, I thought I might get a bit of sympathy from you, at least, but obviously not.
Well, I didn’t do the run, of course, so this will just be a circle report. And my back’s much better now, thank you. When I arrived at the run site, King Leer was busy divesting him self of some treasured personal possessions i.e. his old hash magazines, some going back to slightly before the Paleolithic Era. Poser gleefully showed me an ancient one in which virtually the only person we could recognize was Hooray, and that was quite difficult as he was sporting an amazing amount of facial hair. Looked like a second-rate Libyan terrorist. Anyway, enough of this moseying down memory lane. To work.
The hares had attempted to bribe the circle with curry puffs, and it appeared to work as despite lots of barracking, they were awarded a good run nod. Indecent Exposure announced next week’s run at Arcadia Road – at least it’s somewhere closer to town than most runs have been recently.
Ring Pull dove straight in to welcome a raft of visitors, some of whom I think were closet virgins but refused to come clean. She did her usual welcoming bit, where are you from etc – all very touchy-feely Yank stuff – and frightened them all so much with her Alpha Bitch bonhomie that they all stared at her like hypnotized rabbits and forgot where they came from. Apart from retread virgin Daniel, who very much remembered that he lives on his yacht and is going round the world. Oh, he was very happy to pass that around, I can tell you. To anyone who would listen. Several times. Anyway, apart from that wanker, there was Johnny Poh, Up and Down, Red Baron, Ayam Kampong (when she told me her hash name I thought she had a megalomaniac complex as I heard it as “I Am Kampong”). Generator didn’t now where she came from which was a bit of a worry for her partner, who said emphatically that they came from Devizes, where, as we all know, resides the woman with tits of different sizes.
Alpha went on to present the well-prepared Walkie Talkie with her 252 runs T-shirt. If you don’t know why it was 252, you haven’t been following the saga of the disappearing 0s carefully enough. Anyway, Warlike normally lets her assets dangle – sorry – thrust free and unfettered in the breeze, so she had to go and don some undergarments for her performance. So she gave us plenty of action stripping off first to a camisole (What the hell is that? – Ed.) – some sort of flimsy thing anyway – and then to the unaccustomed bra – which I think she was wearing upside down.
Astronut was getting a bit antsy at this stage having not heard the sound of his own voice for a while, so he hove in to announce the Hare Whip. And you can always count on the teachers in situations like this. Cookie took it all in her stride, even though she admitted she hadn’t seen anyone doing anything interesting as she was sweeping at the back. (Where else do you sweep? – Ed.) You’d be surprised. But Cookie did the honorable thing of ratting on her co-hare, in this case Squire, who was busy doing the reminiscent bit as they laid the run as he was brought up in the area. And with the amazing clarity of memory – or single-mindedness – that men have, what he could remember from his hormone –fuelled teenage years was where all the good-looking bits of crumpet lived and where he had his first sexual experiences. Did the earth move for you, Squire? In fact, though, Cookie was getting him for the far more heinous crime of trying to suggest to his co-hares that they did their first recce in the car. Actually, this was just an excuse to cover up the fact that he had no sensible shoes, only a pair of geriatric sandals. Well, the girlies were having none of this wimpishness and dragged the unwilling Squire on the recce, halfway round the unsuitable footwear exploded, and Cookie flung the offending shredded remains into the circle as heaps of abuse were hurled at the abashed offender. Being such a nice lot, we made him attempt to drink out of one of the barely recognizable sandals.
Mystery Whip time – and after the usual false starts, Ugly Bum turned out to be the big cheese. And it was about time too that someone finally called out Molester. What are we going to do without him, I ask myself. I mean, even when nothing funny happened, and there was absolutely nothing to talk about, there was always Molester. You just had to say his name and everyone shouted “Good Charge!” before you said anything else. In this case, Molester had been unwise enough to comment on the cheapness of the on-on (still only $10) by saying he could afford to pay for everyone out of his per diem. We all thanked him for his generous leaving present, to which he said “sod off”. He was talking hypothetically, averred the cheapskate.
Ugly Bum’s second charge involved following the run trail meticulously and attempting to stay on paper when advised to go a different way by Depositor, who is, shall we say, quite close to one of the hares and so should know. Ugly Bum was a bit leery of following a man’s advice to stray up a strange path – as she says, last time she did that she got pregnant. Anyway, she was eventually coerced by Red Baron, who said it would be just like the old days. This puzzled Ugly Bum somewhat as, as far as she knew, she and Red Baron hadn’t shared any “old days”. Don’t worry, Ugly Bum – I’ve had weekends like that as well.
Throwing caution, and truth, to the winds, Ugly Bum proudly announced that she was a sportswoman. (Didn’t know crochet counted as a sport – Ed.) Don’t be nasty, it’s her story. Apparently, UB is a great exponent of deep sea fishing, knows all about it, got the t-shirt etc. She loves that great big rod throbbing between her quivering thighs, she does. When she heard that Boo was going on a fishing jaunt, she thought she’d go and exchange some fisherman’s lore with him, where to catch Spanish mackerel or blue fin tuna, what’s the best bait for garoupa etc. “So, what are you hoping to catch” she asked, eager to share Boo’s expertise. “Fish,” came the informative reply. Down-down to the monosyllabic Chinaman.
And it was time for that man again. Yes, Molester, he of the “now I’m going - now I’m back again” behaviour pattern, is leaving us yet again. But, as Ring Pull says, he’s like stray dog you feed once and then can’t get rid of, so we’ll no doubt see him again. We dutifully sang him the song with the lyrics you can’t show your mother.
And Ring Pull remembered that this particular hash was set for a reason and called in Aftershock for her birthday down-down.
Astronut had another chance to strut his stuff as he called in the Mystery Mystery Whip, who turned out to the urbane and courteous Stash. (Different from most Yanks then? – Ed.) He had a small bone to pick with the Grand Master (Sounds disgusting! – Ed) – whom he insisted on referring to as the Grand Mister – because he only got round to asking Stash to be a whip tonight. But that wasn’t his charge. No, he revealed that the other whip was due to be Ad Nauseum, but in a fit of cowardly funk he hid himself under a rock and forced his wife Ugly Bum to do it. Ad Nauseam was given a thoroughly well-deserved down-down.
He was into his stride picking on the GMs and brought in Ring Pull for being so pissed at the committee meeting that she forgot where the AGM was being held, thus misinforming everyone that it was to be at the hugely overpriced Raffles Town Club.. In fact, Poser – who was unfairly called in as well – has negotiated a jolly good deal at the Europa Club. But I must warn you the management has given us a very strong warning that there is to be no larking around of any kind, so be prepared!
And Stash brought in Molester. Because he was there.
Ring Pull presented the circle with a Prick of the Week so sagging and woebegone it even looks beyond Ripper’s tender mercies. Hardly worth giving it away as it’s obviously no use to anyone. She wanted to give it to Indy for somehow conspiring with the hornets on last week’s run that stung her on her finger, thus ensuring that she hasn’t been able to wear her wedding ring since. Yeah, right. Wonder if Free Willy’s going to fall for that one. But in the end Alpha decided that firstly Indy has such an impressive dildo collection of her own that she scarcely needs another one, and in any case it is in urgent need of repair. She prowled round the circle looking, as she said, for an American, because all Americans have duct-tape, but of course, sod’s law being what it is, the first Septic Tank she picked on had no idea what she was talking about. Obviously all the ducts in Stash’s house remain severely untaped. Big Hammer positively leapt to the rescue, declaring that he is never without duct-tape, hell, no – he even takes it to the loo with him etc. etc – and thus is now officially in charge of prick mending.
Pussy of the Week was So Cunt Chong who was delegated by Sybil – another cop out. He wanted to give the Pussy to Molester for something – anything – but since it was his last run was worried that Molester would first molest her (ha!) and then abduct her to Britain. He thought also about giving her to Coo Chi Coo because of his tit fetish – and Pussy does have very strange tits – but CCC was conspicuous by his absence (So that’s why the circle was so quiet – Ed.) In the end, in order to preserve the Pussy’s virginity, sanctity and pristine reputation, he passed her on to Dickless, who, his name suggests, can obviously do her no damage. (Er – where did his four kids comedy from, then? – Ed.)
And Ring Pull called in Lost Patrol, who was being uncharacteristically shy and retiring about the fact that he is leaving too.
Finally it was time for any other business. It all gets a bit hazy here as Ring Pull had been assiduously plying me with beer throughout the circle. Desperation had something to do with it. Gypsy gave Impossible his shirt back. Wickless called in Ugly Bum for the Misery Whip problem and made some sexist comment about whatever you say to a woman goes in both ears and comes out of her mouth. No, I didn’t understand it either. Oh, make up the rest for yourselves.
The on-on was excellent value, just down the road at the Strip, if you remember the old days. Sitting at my table was Diplomatic Bag, wittering on nostalgically about what it used to be like when he was there with the navy in 1966 – see, I was listening - and insisted in visiting the one remaining den of naval vice the Strip still supports, so quite a few of us ended up there – a bit different from our normal late night venues. There were even a few sailors there as well. Yo ho ho, and all that….
On
on!
Black
Widow
On-Back to Weekly Scribe Reports Index.
On-Back to Lion City HHH homepage.