Run No. 980

Date: 29 June 2001

Where: Tagore Drive

Hares: Mandarin Lau and Francis

Members: 42

Guests: 14

Visitors: 2

Virgins: 2

Returnees: 2

Checks on this run were as rare as hens' teeth - I think I almost spotted one once - but it was just a mirage. When the GMs called the hares into the circle for the judgement of the massed hordes, there were huge cries of "Good Race!" Still, everyone got back in good time, and the hares were grudgingly awarded the Good Run accolade.

Next week's run was announced by the Septic Tanks - it's the annual gung-ho Yankee love-in for Independence Day - we Brits know who got the independence, but we're too polite to celebrate it. Stash and Slocum were first in to grab the bunny hats - poor Big Hammer was a bit slow (What else is new? - Ed.) and missed out. It's at the end of Rifle Range Road. And they are thoughtfully providing a whole raft of visiting sailors.

Frontarse brought in a couple of virgins - Terry who runs marathons before breakfast - and Kiasu Lun's friend Max who obviously doesn't.

Frontarse then called in a visitor - Semen Stains. Walkie Talkie reminded him that in fact he's an ex-Harriet. Frontarse got miffed at being corrected and called in "Delia" to sit on the ice. The uxorious Careless hove in to abjure the GM for not using her hash name. Frontarse invoked presidential privilege. (I like the man! - Ed.) Careless was forced to take his place on the ice next to his beloved.

Indianus wittered on about calling in a returnee as he was cute, young and attractive, I wondered at this description of Lost and Found, but there's no accounting for taste, is there? But I was wrong - she was all a-flutter at the reappearance of Auntie Anus - not that any of us knew he had gone.

Stash kindly suggested that she had only got three more days to get the Fuck Me shoes working before he goes for good.

Indy finally got round to calling in Lost and Found, who blithered on as he does every year about the Hash Challenge.

The circle was looking a bit ragged so Frontarse asked people to move in which they did rather literally, virtually smothering him in the process.Ever mindful of inspirational respect, Frontarse grabbed Kiasu Lun to sit on the ice.

The Mystery Whips' greatest mystery was what they were whipping about as neither of them seemed to have anything to say. Flakey - who is either leaving or not - toss a coin - whipped himself for not knowing if he's coming or going. Stash suggested, "I can see you were really prepared to be a whip." Ripper came in to say they he and Coo Chi Coo are starting a whip round to buy him an air-ticket - anywhere.

"And now -" some wag shouted, "it's time for the Better Whip." (No such luck! - Ed.) Yes, Squire was similarly unprepared. He managed to dredge up one charge for virgin Max who only started running towards the end of the run as he said he could smell the beer. And then he called in all the people wearing the same tee shirt. Right. Not exactly inspired, but he claimed he had no warning. The crowd grew both restive and abusive as Quicksand, Careless, Aftershock and Wong Way got a free drink for their similar apparel. "Respect for the scribe to no avail!" snarled Frontarse in a vain attempt to impose some sort of order. "Why?" was the only possible response - so I gave it, only to be iced for my impertinence.

I was joined by Max who hasn't yet worked out how to off his hand phone.

Prick of the Week was Quicksand. She passed it on to Coo Chi Coo who had set out on the run half and hour early 'cos of his wounded spine. All together now - aaaah. Meanwhile Frontarse, endeavouring to keep order while his paramour was in the circle, iced Kiasu Lun and Semen Stains for barracking. Oooh, he's getting to be right good at it, that Frontarse.(I think the scribe missed something there? – Ed)

Clearly harbouring a grudge, Coo Chi Coo came in hotfoot at the AOB call. The poor chap had limped pathetically round the run and he blamed Flakey. "I've got a great idea," he said sarcastically. "Let's have a soccer match for people who've never played soccer before just so we can fuck up their running and biking muscles." So Flakey was duly punished.

Titmouse came in to relate that while he was running a visitor courteously said, "You can go ahead if you like." He got chatting to the stranger, asked him if he ran very much, and then listened in amazement as the litany of marathons unravelled. Yes, this was guest Terry, who apparently has a sub 2.45 marathon time to his record. Flakey was unimpressed. "What's so great about 2 days 45 minutes?" he ingenuously enquired.

B.C. wanted to carry on Coo Chi Coo's football related charge by calling in a few more sufferers of that momentous LCH3 victory over the boys who eat alligators for breakfast. (In their dreams. - Ed.) Dog Shit, Frontarse, Coo Chi Coo and Flakey were all called in for lending their stalwart services to the team.

By now Indy had been out of the circle for a while so she flung herself back into the fray and hauled in her fellow GM as he had forgotten to organise her 100 runs award. He tried to wriggle out of it but took the blame.To huge applause he was given a taste of his own medicine and placed squarely on the ice.

And that was it, really. The on-on was a fairly quiet affair on-site but a few hardy souls made the trek onwards to the Handlebar - and it was hardly worth going home from there before Flakey's farewell/welcome back party on Saturday. Have we finally got rid of the old bugger at last?

On On!

Black Widow & Ed.

On-Back to Weekly Scribe Reports Index.

On-Back to Lion City HHH homepage.