Run No: 966

Date: Friday 30 March

Where: Tampines Avenue 10

Hares: White Chinaman and Indianus

Members: Not a lot

Guests: One or two

Virgins: 1

Visitors: Some

Returnees: 1

A lot of the hash are obviously a bit scared of melting in the rain as it was a pretty small, if intrepid, bunch of us that loped off in the drizzle to run round the godforsaken wasteland of Tampines. The run was well shepherded by the anxious hares who both accompanied the pack and ensured that the numerous killer back checks kept everyone together for nearly all the way round. Ripper kept me entertained by his logistical analysis of the Annabel Chong feat – you know – she’s the ex-Hwa Chong girl who achieved her fifteen minutes of fame by having – er – carnal relations with a couple of hundred men in 2hrs 43 mins. (So this is what men think about when they’re running? – Ed.) Anyway, it was a jolly good run with some surprisingly verdant countryside and panoramic views.

Back at the run site, Indy continued the salacious tone of the evening by inventing a new parlour game which involved counting how many countries people had had – er – carnal relations in. She’s still showing off about her Lithuanian experience, obviously. This led to assembled folks looking thoughtful and counting on their fingers. Haircut got all geographical and questioned whether Wales and Scotland counted as separate countries. Doris wanted to know if it had to be penetrative sex, which made me wonder what sort of things he’d been up to. And then the rain started to bucket down in earnest, the umbrellas came out – and Flakey emerged dressed in what looked like a human-sized condom which maybe him look even more silly than usual. Herr Linguist kindly shared his umbrella with me so my notes didn’t get washed away in the deluge as Astronut hove into view to start the proceedings, which, thankfully, were rather more muted – and shorter – than last week.

Vietnam Rose had turned up hoping to pass on last week’s Hash Shit, but no such luck, as the hares' efforts were dully – sorry, duly - awarded a Good Run. White Chinaman announced the on on at a local Chinese eatery and promised lots of free beer as a celebration of his half-century.

Next week’s hare is Barbarian and the site is Cactus Road.

No Good did GM duties this week and welcomed a virgin – Renee – who enjoyed herself so much she had buggered off. There were some visitors but I didn’t get the sheet so you’ll have to fill in that bit for yourselves. And Desperation was welcomed back as a Returnee.

The Hare Whip Mark 1 was White Chinaman who dedicated his turn to insulting ladies of the blonde persuasion. He firstly targeted Indianus – of course – for apparently spending the entire two hours setting the run moaning on to WC about how she doesn’t know what she’s going to do with herself now that Alpha Pull has left us. You’ll just have to take up knitting, Indy. Then he got Warlike Talkie (Is she blonde? – Ed.) Not that you’d notice. Anyway, she was punished for being so clueless she couldn’t even find the run site. And finally he ungallantly whipped his own niece who had come all the way from Australia to celebrate his birthday and ended up standing in the rain in a lorry park in Tampines. (And whose fault was that? – Ed.) You’re right – should have whipped himself for that one. At this stage, of course, he didn’t realise that his niece had actually come for his slap-up surprise birthday bash the next day….

WC moved away from blonde-bashing for his next charge, which was for the comdom-clad Flakey. Flakey had whinged and whined at about 6.45 that the run was too long. WC called him a “whingeing Pom”, which greatly incensed the self-professed Irish leprechaun.

Of course, we had to have Hare Whip Mark 2 – no one keeps Indy out of the circle for long. Returning the compliment, she hauled in White Chinaman. These hare whips do tend to be pretty incestuous affairs, don’t they? She drew attention to the birthday boy’s venerable age and said that from now on she is going to listen to everything he says, causing the observation to be made that with Indy around, he never gats a chance to say anything anyway. There were also general cries of derision at the idea of Beta Bitch ever listening to anyone’s advice. Her charge against WC was that he had set the run in Tampines as not many people would turn up and he could save money on the free beers. Gypsy waggishly suggested that we should change his name to Tight Chinaman.

Astronut called for the Mystery Whip, Haircut, who was still busy scratching his head and trying to work out whether Gibraltar counted as a separate country. He finally exposed himself (I thought that was Indy’s trick – Ed.) and, indeed, called in the ubiquitous Beta Bitch for his first charge, causing Astronut to exclaim, “That can’t be Indy – she’s still got her clothes on!”  Ahh, the hash is a bear of very little brain, but it never forgets! Haircut whipped Beta because, as White Chinaman has told virtually anyone who’ll listen, she turned up pissed to one of their recces and then took three beers to drink on the way. (So what’s wrong with that? – Ed.) Dunno. Seems perfectly proper hash etiquette to me…He also called in the latecoming trio of Squire, Bully and Vietnam Rose, before moving on to highlight Stiff’s shortcomings in the shorts department – he had wrecked them in a somewhat strategic place. As Zipp said - “He needs a zip!” Ho ho ho! Anyway, Stiff was conspicuous by his absence, so Murkily was called in to do lookalike duties. But all of this begs the question – why were you looking at his crotch in the first place, Haircut?

Poser was also conspicuous by her absence but we all thought she was taking slightly longer that usual beautifying herself. Not true. Astronut, who had not been displaying any visible sign of husbandly concern, spotted her exhaustedly arriving back from the run – this was at 8.15, by the way. Poser explained that for reasons only known to her, she’d done a little side trip to Ponggol. There was a bit of marital strife in the circle as Astronut declared that he had given her a GPS before the run and she’d left it in the car. Now, personally I think our venerable GM should have had some form of punishment for even thinking of anyone hashing with a GPS. I mean, I know we now have showers and so on – but really!

In came the Mystery Mystery Whip – Doris – still thinking of non-penetrative sex. He did manage to charge Astronut, not, as he said, for asking him to be Whip at short notice or for losing his wife, but because when he realised wifey had gone AWOL, he was really concerned – because she had the car keys. Then, said Doris, his face cleared. “No, its all right – I’ve got them. Now where’s my beer.” So Astronut was duly whipped for his unuxoriousness. (Let’s see if any of you remember what that means..)

Doris also wittered on about the range of ablution facilities now available after the run. – Top of the range must be Comes Alone’s shower de luxe – so many girls were queuing up to use it that Comes Alone was heard to say proudly that his van was more of a babe magnet than a sports car. But Doris was looking for the bottom of the range representative – Haircut, with his plastic Tide bottle. Zipp suggested we should change his name to Tight Cut (Enough of this name changing rubbish! – Ed.)

Mystery Mystery Mystery Whip Gypsy wanted a lookalike for Indy – a bit weird since she was standing right behind him – and even weirder, he picked Getalife. Gypsy is looking forward – he said with heavy irony – to a yearful of Indy as GM so is bracing himself for 52 ack-ack-ack punctuated circles. And helping him acclimatises is – and here he produced a sort of cork on the end of a piece of string – a toy from Bali, which, when whipped through the air round and round, produces a noise not dissimilar from the idiosyncratic laugh of our wannabe kookaburra. He and Zipp are subjecting themselves to increasing doses with the noisemaker to set them up for next year’s circles. Everyone wanted a go with the Indymatic – could make a fortune importing them, Gypsy.

It’s all a bit cosy and domestic on the hash with all of these married couples mooning about, and this domesticity aspect was further highlighted when Zipp also did stand-in GM duties. She called in Quicksand to award the Prick of the Week. Quicksand drew attention to the fact that while most hashers are hardy and resolute, one sad bastard spent the entire run moaning about the rain. And she presented the Prick to sad bastard Sad Bastard – although what he’s going to do with it is hard to tell. (Too ghastly to speculate – Ed.)

Flakey presented the Pussy of the Week. He said something rude about Pandora’s Box, and had a go at Desperation for saying she should have had a drink before the run but finally settled on White Chinaman for being kicked out of Australia because of Pauline Hanson’s politics. Or something. Never mind, it was just an excuse to give the poor sozzled birthday boy yet another down-down.

AOB – You’d think we’d all be desperate to get out of the rain and to the on-on but no. Murkury wanted to drag into the circle anyone with red pants – no, not you, Indy – a g-string doesn’t count – as he wanted to moan at Barbarian. Going over some muddy planks, everyone was warning the people behind that they were slippery, but Barbarian was too busy running, didn’t warn Stiff behind him, and Stiff did a flying half-gainer with double twist into the shrubbery. Barbarian was duly dragged in the circle, weaning a towel round his shoulders as many others were doing to protect themselves from the rain, causing the ongoing Gypsy/ Zipp double act to pronounce, “He’s wearing his hashmina shawl!”

Front Arse hove in as he just wanted an excuse to tell a joke – and get Astronut again. You know the one – how do you tell if your sick wife has got Alzheimer’s or Aids? Leave her in Ponggol and if she comes back, don’t sleep with her. Boom boom!

Then it was on to the on-on which was a very jolly affair despite the relatively small turn out. Lots of singing, quite a lot of it from Indy. It all got very silly. And thanks for all the free beer, White Chinaman – much appreciated.

I had another surprise birthday party for one of my favourite Colbar mates down in Bencoolen Street but I found it hard to drag myself away from Zippo’s one-man rendition of The Sound of Music. It was getting a bit late, so I was grateful when Haircut offered me a lift townward. My mistake. His original navigational take on the Tampines – Bencoolen Street route was to drive the scenic way via Sembawang. Honestly – some people will do anything to get into the newsletter. (At least it wasn’t Ponggol – Ed.) And when I finally got to my party slightly after midnight it had only just got going, so it was the start of yet another lost weekend, with various dubious types welcoming the dawn at Newton Circus. And WC’s surprise party (I wonder if anyone is really ever “surprised”) tonight is another chance for revelry and mayhem.  No rest for the wicked. (It’s amazing that Indy sleeps at all then – Ed.)  I didn’t say that – honest! It’s that Ed. – He’s got a mind of his own….

On on!

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