Run No. 982 

Date: 13 July 2001

Where: Tampines Avenue 10

Hares: Foo Foo, Barf Wader and Any More

Members: 32

Guests: 14

Visitors: 2

Virgins: 4

Obviously a few faint-hearted souls stayed at home watching the telly, fearing that the combination of Friday 13th plus an ever-so-long journey to Tampines would prove too much for them. I think that when we started out the pack was barely in double figures, but by the end of a very nice run things had swelled somewhat - (What exactly are you talking about? – Ed.) – numbers, you dirty-minded fool - and by circle time the tally had reached a respectable 46.

There was a bit of confusion at circle time as the pack got rather disorientated and formed several irregular circlets all over the place. Frontarse and Indianus snapped at their heels like a couple of rabid sheepdogs and managed to get them into something resembling an ovoid shape, but not before a harassed virgin – retreating in terror - managed to get himself entangled in the legs of the ice stand. Good thing our insurance is up-to-date.

So the hares were finally called in to receive the vote of the circle, and all agreed that it was a thoroughly Good Run considering the amount of construction work going on in the area. Foo Foo made an impassioned plea to get everyone at the on-on at a nearby Chinese eatery.

And while this was going on, two visitors who were yakking away were given a taste of hash hospitality and made to sit on the ice. (Won’t be seeing them again, then. – Ed.) Doubt it. Heinous and Eugene looked extremely uncomfortable about the nether regions, but gamely sat there while next week’s run was announced.

This is the long-awaited Shit Family affair, so various members of the group trotted in. Shitstream, Dogshit, Shit Fit representative Wickless, and Pig Shit – who looked a lot like Barbarian to most people, but he told me long ago that this is his London hash name – so no wonder he chose to hide that fact here and was grateful to be given his macho-stud name of Barbarian. The hares were given silly bunny hats except for Dog Shit who had a collector’s item tailor-made doggy hat. The run’s at Jalan Tasipan and the on-on is at the Royal Singapore Yacht Club. Well, that’s what Dog Shit said, obviously overcome by a flood of nostalgia for colonial days.

In swanned the virgins who put a lot of regular members to shame as they were all attired in hash tee shirts already, which was duly noted buy the GM. Hats off to hash haberdash, I say. Brent, Jeff, Gerald and Khairul were welcomed.

Moving swiftly along, the circle progressed to the Mystery Whip, who was White Chinaman – very appropriate choice since this is his area. He firstly picked on your poor hapless scribe for whingeing at the precipitous drain approach. “I’m not going down there,” I apparently whimpered. But, as I riposted, I always go down in the end, which caused a certain amount of unseemly ribaldry from some of the more loutish elements in the crowd. I awaited my down-down with thirsty anticipation, only to be rewarded with a mug containing half a thimbleful of the amber nectar, Bagless obviously having read Saliva’s comment about only getting half a mug if a Scotsman’s doing beer duty – and deciding to beat Aye Aye when it comes to stinginess (Careful! – Ed. Don’t go getting yourself into trouble.)

His second charge was also about whingeing, this time to Peanuts, who was tiptoeing through the muck and slime in the drain and moaning all the while. She protested mightily, but to little effect.

White Chinamen dragged himself away from whingeing charges and turned his attention to the number of couples on the hash who are following the Velcro twins lead and turning up in the circle wearing identical clobber. The Velcros were called in, obviously, plus Stuffy and Not Tonight, Frontarse and Quicksand, Strapless and Amy, and – er – Indianus and Fanny. (Is there something going on that we don’t know about? – Ed.)

Frontarse hove back into the circle to witter on about people wearing similar dress. “Only Indianus is wearing a dress,” shouted some wag in the crowd – so the game GM resignedly accepted a beer.

This led in appropriately to Spiffy leaping into the circle to announce that the reason all these couples were dressed alike was not out of some desperate passion but because there were all wearing the new 1000^th run promotional tee shirt. He reminded everyone that the 1000^th registration is still only S$30 – which is quite a bargain, if you ask me. And he was there to present the free shirts to the first five registrants, one of whom was yours truly. But I was ready for the off-off call, complete with lacy new bra all the way from romantic Marks and Sparks, Epsom. Thanks, Mum. Spiffy was most assiduous in helping me do the strip, and was looking forward to aiding Faker. She, not particularly noted for being the shy and retiring type, amazingly was most disinclined to come into the circle and indeed, positively sprinted out of harm’s way. So Coo Chi Coo, ever one to save the day, heroically offered himself as a Faker lookalike, and was duly shoe-horned into her tiny garment. Shitstream was to be the next recipient of the free shirt, but he wasn’t around, so White Chinaman did lookalike duties. Well, they’re both slightly follically challenged, so it made some sort of sense at the time.

Indianus was in the circle at this time and said, “I’ll wait until the truck goes by.” Mistake. Coo Chi Coo, still truing to pull the tiny tee shirt down over his wee bod, called out, “Story of your life – waiting for a truck!” Geddit? He couldn’t escape the ice for that one, and while settling himself into position, an enraged Faker leapt in and tore the prized tee shirt from his resisting body. So she was iced as well.

The Mystery Mystery Whip was Aye Aye. He could have got Titmouse and Bagless for talking business all round the run but actually his aim was revenge! Last week Titmouse had crowed at Aye Aye for coming back from Mount Faber (What on earth was he doing there? – Ed.) at 8.30p.m. – and he himself was late this week.  He also got Bangles, who was also late, for asking him where Street 10 was. And now, as we all know, there is no Street 10.

He called in Mr. T. because he’s always slowing up the Old Farts. And today he was going so slowly he was actually going backwards. His excuse was that he was looking for Faker’s car keys which had dropped out of her shorts somewhere in the jungle. We won’t speculate as to what she was up to at the time. Mr. T. was being the gent - or maybe he was hoping that he found them his luck would be in tonight.

Then Aye Aye called in the whole committee who have been e-mailing each other all week in fervent discussion about what people think. He upbraided the committee for actually giving a toss about what people think of anything. He actually wanted to give the down down to Poser, as she was the only committee member who hadn’t commented on the – er- free and frank discussion – but she wasn’t around so Astronut gallantly stepped into the down-down breach.

The GM then belatedly welcomed back a returnee – Sow Kam – and berated her for her lack of hash apparel. Who would swap tee shirts with her to remedy this, he wanted to know. Chastity Belt leapt in to oblige and since her shirt was far too small for him, wore it on his head Lawrence of Arabia style, and ponced around the circle flexing his –er – muscles. And Astronut was very unkind to suggest that he wouldn’t be able to maintain the gut suck-in much longer.

Prick of the Week was awarded by Peanuts to Jack Off, for being so disrespectful of her Velcro duties that she started the run without her other half.

Mother Mary suggested came in then to advertise the Quadripartite run. The GM suggested

that she should have a little drink. Several voices were raised to the effect that since the Scotsmen had been in charge of the beer, they were all little drinks. Ripper commented that he thought they were being pretty parsimonious. Aye Aye sneered nastily that he was amazed that there was an Australian that knew the word. Coo Chi Coo looked blank (So what else is new? – Ed.) Yes, the hash was its normal, jolly self, full of bonhomie and good-fellowship……

Shitstream had returned and White Chinaman had to relinquish his stolen tee shirt. Lots of stripping off in the circle tonight, I can tell you.

AOB – The GM started off by whipping Mr.T., who moaned that he didn’t have a card yet. Oh yes he does, said the GM - it’s just he’s been looking under M and it’s politely filed under T. Indianus carried on with this them by calling in Stuffy and Not Tonight – they haven’t found their cards yet either and have been busy whingeing pommy-style about this – obviously they haven’t been looking under J.

Astronut wanted to know why Quicksand had put a Swiss flag on the 1000th run tee shirt. Quicksand protested mightily – it’s a different colour etc etc – they both got down downs for bickering.

And off to the on-on, which was well supported in the end, despite Foo Foo’s worries. Dickless, festooned with bunny hats from various extremities, did valiant work with the singing. - Good run, good on-on. A grand job at such short notice – thanks, hares.

On on!

Blank Window

On-Back to Weekly Scribe Reports Index.

On-Back to Lion City HHH homepage.