Run:
No: 968
Date:
Good Friday 13 April 2001
Where:
Dempsey Road
Hares:
Impossible, Too Good and Down Under
Members:
56
Guests:
35
Virgins:
7
Visitors:
15
Returnees:
5
A
massive turnout fronted up for this holiday and Friday 13th run, and I think a
couple of them are still hopelessly wandering round the Botanic Gardens, judging
by the ramshackle way the pack dribbled in from all points of the compass. Mega
Alpha Bitchissima Lynxx even flew in all the way from Blighty to refute
rumours that she’d become a nun, put on 20 kilos etc. Visiting royalty,
indeed. Just hope she didn’t bring FMD with her. With the sheep-like behaviour
manifested buy the pack on some of the long checks around Leedon Road, the hash
would be decimated pretty damn quickly. And the novelty chalk didn’t help much
either – camouflage brown doesn’t show up too well on damp pavement. Still,
I can’t say too much about the run as I lost an earring after falling in a
hole halfway round and went back to look for it, losing the pack in the process
but miraculously finding the earring. So I was back at the run site in good time
to see the fragmented pack returning from every which way but the right one.
In
a flagrant – and successful – attempt to bribe the hash into awarding a Good
Run award, the hares provided a cornucopia of Good Friday snackery, including
mini Easter eggs, which were devoured by the ravening hordes. Astronut asked
for comments on the run - which ranged from “shit!” to “marvellous!!”
and used his casting vote to give it a “Good Run”
status after all. Impossible announced the on-on at – guess where? –
Samy’s Curry.
Next
week’s run looked like being a problem as Bully had to pull out at the
last moment (I’m not saying anything – Ed.) but a godsend in the form
of Ripper stepped in to save the day. He’s setting on of his old runs
backwards, or upside down – or something. Anyway, it’s from Shunfu Road,
outside his place. Well done, Rip! What he didn't appreciate was being
given a down-down for his generosity. “Why am I being punished?” he whinged
piteously. Not that you could hear him as the circle was being particularly
vociferous and holiday-moodish, forcing the poor old GM to go into squeak mode
as he tried to make himself heard, causing all sorts of unkind imitations from
the crowd.
Blur
Bitch
(The Bitch family is becoming nearly as big as the Arse family – Ed.)
came to call in the virgins and visitors, which was a massive job. The virgins
were Alex, Rose, Christine, Sue, Debra, Rebecca
and Swan Dive. Too many women. Go away.
The
visitors she had to call in in two batches, otherwise there would have been more
people in the circle than outside. The first lot were Nigel, Marc, Ball Buster
from Hong Kong, Duffer from Sunday, Judy, Gary and Marietta
(White Chinaman’s brother and wife) and a kid just out of nappies who
was Sad Bastard’s son. Tsk,tsk. That lot seen to, No Good called
in the next lot as Bogless pleaded for help with the beer supplies. This
lot included Jill, Alice (that’s his hash name) Tom, Bob
from Bike Hash, Phil and Red Snapper from London City Hash, David
from Scotland, and everyone’s favourite Wednesday groupie, Father Anus.
Then
it was time for the return of the prodigal sons – and daughters. Mr. Magoo
and Airborne, Chilli Balls and Won Ton – and the
original fuck-me shoes queen herself, Lynxx. “Give me a
big one,” she rasped, as Beagles proffered her one of the girly mugs,
proving that her tastes haven’t changed in her months away. She also had a
shit – sorry – shirt to present to the GM from her current hash so we were
treated to the sight of a half-naked Astronut (cries of “On! On!”
from the impolite mob).
The
Hare whip was the hare with the harem, our old friend Impossible. He
wanted to tell us about something interesting that happened to him in bed that
morning. We thought we were going to be afforded a lurid insight into some
arcane sexual practice, but no. Apparently, the phone rang. Impossible
hoofed it to the living room only to have the ringing stop as he reached the
phone. “Oh well, now that I’m up, I might as well have a piss, begorrah!”
thinks he. Halfway through the roaring torrent, the phone rings again. Cursing,
he legs it to the phone – it stops again just as he gets there. “Now I’m
awake, I might as well have a shower, bejasus.”
And guess what? Halfway through the shower - ..It was his co-hare,
suggesting that since it was nice and cool in the pre-dawn gloaming, why
didn’t they go and set the run then and there. Now I would have garrotted
somebody for coming up with a ludicrous suggestion like that, but Too Good
got away with a down-down. (Snide suggestion from Front Arse: “Why
didn’t she just ring from the other room?” Oooh – nasty!)
Astronut
got a little confused at this point and called for the Mystery Whip before the
milestones, but, never one to take responsibility for his actions, blamed Coo
Chi Coo for distracting him and pulled him in for a down-down. The milestone
in question was the hare – Impossible – who had notched up a massive
552 runs. Regular readers will realise that I have to be somewhat creative with
the run numbers owing to the lack of appropriate 0s and 1s. Impossible happily
stripped of to don his t-shirt.
And
now it was time for the Mystery Whip. The Linguist Twins attempted to
confuse us for a while, but the real whip turned out to be Sybil.
Everyone sat down. A few lay down and went to sleep. Sybil said, “I
know you’re all dying to hear my voice.” The crowd groaned. Coo Chi Coo
said, “No, we’re dying for you to wear a bra!” thus calling attention to
her evident lack of one and the large amount of nippage (Free
Willy’s term) on display. Anyway, I lost the plot in the middle of her
first story (Who didn’t ? – Ed.) but it was something to do with Impossible
laying the trail from behind. Er – Sybil – how long have you been
hashing? It’s called “closing the check”, you dork!
Her
second charge was against the person who brought the two svelte, black clad,
navel-displaying brigade. (And don’t bring them again – Ed.) It was Strapless,
who boasted to Sybil that he used to hold the rank of GSO in the army.
Girl Supplying Officer. Ho ho!
Now,
this didn’t take long to write, but the guys at Samy’s were locking up for
the night by the time the rambling Sybil had meandered to the end. And we
still had more to come.
The
Mystery Mystery Whip again saw the Linguist Twins – people are
beginning to talk, you know, - running interference, but it was the insouciant Aye
Aye who eventually stepped forwards. He called in the increasingly sozzled Impossible,
for being out of touch with reality. (Not surprising after 3 down-downs –
Ed.) Right. Impossible had apparently accused Aye Aye of
owning a property in swanky Belmont Road which led to Aye Aye – our
singer of the year, remember – doing a nice bit of impromptu Gilbert and
Sullivan to tell Impossible that, “That road is much too far above our
station.” And while on the subject of roads, he grabbed Too Good, Sybil
and Dog Shit for running across Farrer Road despite the fact that the
Land Transport Authority puts tons of overhead bridges (How can abridge be
anything but overhead? – Ed.) don’t be pedantic – puts tons of
overhead bridges in place. Too Good he excused because she was an anxious
hare, Sybil he excused because she’s been running since the fourteenth
century and her memory ain’t what it was, poor old dear, but Dog Shit he
punished severely because he ought to know better. He works for the Land
Transport Authority!
And
he nabbed Suzee Wong because he found it frustrating always running past
the same person. And I thought it was very mean of Stash to shout at this
juncture, “It’s amazing you ever pass anyone!” He whipped Suzee for
her rest, run, rest, run style.
Prick
of the Week was Barbarian, who picked on returnee Mega Alpha
Lynxxx for dragging him round his native London in search of a phallus.
Honestly. This was a sordid story about trailing round dens of iniquity in Soho
looking for a sex shop or a strip joint or something like that. Lynxxx is
obviously feeling a bit out of it over there. Anyway, Barbarian wasn’t
much use, averred Lynxx, as he only knew his way around the gay area.
Much unseemly bickering ensued in the circle. (Let’s move on – Ed.) Good
Idea.
Pussy
of the Week was a newly pregnant Jack Off – oh, no, sorry –
she had the Pussy under her t-shirt. She noted that Poser was stuck in a
drain halfway round the run, called on hubby Astronut for help, only to
be told, “You’re a hasher – help yourself.” Bagels the rescuer
hove into view, no doubt anticipating a reward of some kind, but no – Poser
leapt off up the road with barely a scant word of thinks. After a vote, Astronut
was awarded the Pussy.
And
we had a moment of silence and a toast for our member on the Heaven Hash who
passed away at this time a few years ago. Cheers, Messiah.
Any
other business saw a whole mob of people shouldering each other aside, battling
their way into the circle. First in was Barbarian with an announcement
about poor hornet-prone friend, Diskless, who has managed to get himself
into trouble yet again. Recceing round Changi that afternoon, he contrived to
get stung by a couple of the pesky varmints – they really do seem to have it
in for him, don’t they? Anyway, he pulls out his trusty Epi-pen antidote, jabs
it into his thigh but – nothing happens. There he is, going into anaphylactic
shock, life flashing before his eyes etc., when he was rescued by his wife and
rushed off to Changi Hospital, where I believe they have a bed permanently on
standby for him. With a flash of almost humorous irony, Barbarian called Coo
Chi Coo as a lookalike for the absent stung one.
The
Linguist Twins finally made it into the circle. They had an excellent
charge against the befuddled Sybil. Halfway round the run she hit Herr
Linguist in friendly fashion, exclaiming, “Hallo, Corney!” Sybil
was whipped for really not knowing the difference between the two of
them.
Flakey
had a ridiculous joke abort a mushroom going into a bar and ordering drinks for
everyone. Why, asks the barman. Because, says the mushroom, I’m a fun guy.
Fungi. Geddit? Oh, suit yourself. Coo Chi Coo had a similar tale about a
piece of string but it involves actions so I can’t retell it. But it was
equally cringe worthy and ends with the punchline “I’m afraid not”. Or
“I’m a frayed knot.” Groan! But at least he had a charge as well, which
was against the lust-ridden smooching visitors, Red Snapper and Phil,
who just couldn’t keep their roving hands off each other throughout the
evening. Honestly, I was thinking of throwing a bucket of water over them at one
point. And we have out own revoltingly sentimental pair anyway, so CCC called
in the Velcro Kids as well to be punished for letting the side down, or
not keeping their ends up, or something.
Indy
got
all creative in the circle as she finally muscled her way in, and used beer
bottles to represent an arrow trail marking. Apparently Lynxx, who has
obviously forgotten a few things recently, was standing on such an arrow as she
yelled “Checking!” Duh! Lynxx blames FMD – no one runs in England
anymore, so everyone just stays in the pub and drinks. A drinking club without
a running problem, indeed.
And
White Chinaman’s
brother Gary pulled in Loose Change on rather embarrassing charge
of thinking that he and his wife were WC’s mother and father!
Considering that this was at WC’s 50th birthday party, that
would have meant that they were well into their seventies. Gary was not
amused, I can tell you.
Now
the circle had gone on for so long that several members had died of starvation
so Astronut squashed any more attempts to add to the proceedings and led
us all off round the corner to Samy’s. The cook had obviously got distracting
as he was adding the chilli ‘cos even on our table of stalwarts the tears were
flowing and the noses running. Then a load of us went on to Muddy’s and
Anywhere, which sort of set the tone for the weekend as Saturday night was Desperation’s
house warming and compulsory silliness in the pool at some ungodly hour of the
morning. Nice to get back to work and have a rest…
The
Other Old Dog at the Colbar (A
line from Beagles at the committee meeting on Monday. Thanks, Bagless! And I
thought you were my friend!)
On-Back to Weekly Scribe Reports Index.
On-Back to Lion City HHH homepage.