Run No.1283 3 November 2008
Venue: Ada Estate
Hares: Just Joe, CampBed
What happened here???
Run No.1281 19 October 2008
Venue: Rock Garden, Morogoro
Hares: Wet Dream, Boxer, and Mr S***hole
This was the traditional Hare of the Dog run on Sunday morning after Church. The trail has been the same for years immemoral, but this didn’t stop some hashers from falling for Wet Dream’s trickery, and heading off up vertiginous routes that led nowhere. In the Circle there was a lot of good-natured ribaldry at the expense of LateCummer, from whom the RA, CandyMan, extracted the admission that “I drank, I ate, and I took young boys out for a dance”. Other Hashers seen to shuffle about in an uncoordinated way included Pussy, Pissed In Action and The Troll Family. Various Hashers who had felt like a bit of rough on Saturday were called forth to be shown a complete lack of sympathy, and these included, Boogie Boobs, Tiny Sausage, Sexuella, and Calumny. Upskirts, who had accused the GM of condescending sexism (surely one of the tenets of Hashing) was called up for a down down together with others of the ball-breaking tendency, viz. - Boogie Boobs, PantyPockets, and Ripper. Then there was a song, and we all dispersed in search of fast food in Morogoro ...... some hours later however.....
The Morogoro Hash Weakend is one of the high peaks of the Dar Hash Calendar and so it proved again this year - with everyone who is anyone in the Hash (and some who arent) attending. The trail goes 200m (yes that is all it is) up Lupanga Peak and, despite all the sweating, swearing, and spitting, it was an uplifting experience for many Hashers (and boy do some of our Harriettes need it). After a few beers and a bright, new T-shirt, Hashers started swopping experiences (“You’ll never guess where I got scratched”) and all felt a sense of achievement.
Our much revered and reviled GM, Wet Dream, got things off to a good start by bringing forth for ridicule Pissed in Action, who had expressed surprise that all the T-shirts were yellow, and Close Encounters + Service Me, who had wanted to keep their T-shirts clean to change into later. Thanks were given to the organisers, principally PantyPockets, BoogieBoobs, Frozen Scrotum, and LateCummer. The RA, Mr S***hole, said he had never been on a Hash when there had been so much backbiting, snitching, and stitching up - most of it about Robb’s wacky footwear - why anyone should want to run in wet suit boots with fully articulated toes is beyond me, but he is American after all, so he was made to drink a down down out of one boot - together with Golam who had been one of the most active snitchers. Little MG was crowned MissDemeanour of the Night for being as navigationally incompetent as her mother, and so failing to get the BeerMaster to the Beer Stop on time. Hashers exercised their tiny minds thinking up a Hash Name for Major Robb, but, unusually, the voting was by putting hand on breast (Ripper asked whether it was to be ones own or someone elses - a fair point I think) on account of Bumtitty being rendered unable to vote in the time-honoured way due to having lost his voice (through sheer carelessness on his part, I may add). And the winning name ? - welllllll it depends who you talk to, but from now on Robb will answer to PlatyPussy, Plait A Pussy, Splat A Pussy , or just PUSSY. The obvious candidate for the Hashit was LittleMG for giving Nasty Pasty the Heeby Jeebies, plus misdirecting the Beer Master so that the runners arrived at the Beer Stop before the Beer. But the Harriettes were so excited by LateCummer in his Hashit tights, that they forced the GM to award it both of them - with Little MG wearing the toilet seat.
A select group of hashers pitched up for a hash that had a homely, friendly feel to it. It was a runners trail, as is now the norm, with no more than one check per click, but NightRider (Ribbed or Plain) coaxed us stragglers along until it was too dark to see him (Trailmaster: please advise hosts to use muzungus as back hares in the interests of night-time visibility). Saddlesore said that the walk was directionless, and more seriously, beerless.
Panty Pockets confirmed final arrangements for the Morogoro Hash next weekend. For those who want to travel in convoy, check in with Bumtitty outside St Peters Church by 9.45 on Saturday. The Hash starts at 16.00 at Kola Hills Hotel, Morogoro. Rob told us that America’s Finest will be having their Annual Ball on 1st November, with tickets on sale from this Thursday evening at the Marine House. They will also be showing a movie, but he couldn’t say what it will be for security reasons, though he was willing to confirm that the popcorn will be free, except in exceptional circumstances beyond their control. Our Trailmaster had performed up to his usual standard, so no-one knew where Next Week’s Hash will be.
Our Religious Advisor - Mr S***hole - said that the Hash seemed to be going so well that he feared he might have no-one to complain about, but then it all went horribly, deliciously wrong. He called forth Hot Safari for getting lost (twice) and Tuk-Tukking it back, LateCummer for forgetting to take the walkers to the Beer Stop, and NightRider for backtracking the trail. Wondrous tales were told of the spectacular and prestidigious displays that FatBastard can perform with her mammary glands, though requests for a private showing fell on deaf ground and stony ears. “Hashy Birthday” was sung for My Little Pony and Bagobones. The RA speculated bizarrely that Bagobones was old enough to be My Little Pony’s grandfather and that Ripper could have been produced somewhere along the way. Virgins and semi-virgins included Molly, Skeepy, Rada, and Marian - one of whom found her way to the Hash through the website alone, another whose favourite sexual position is known only to herself (and not even to her husband) and another who had hashed in Kabul and lived to tell the tale. Candidates for the Hashit included the Birthday Boys, FatBastard for changing her nappy in the Circle against all known Hash rules, and LateCummer for making a god-awful mess of being the Walking Hare. The RA’s clap-o-meter registered an 8 on the Sphincter Scale for LateCummer - and so it was bestowed on him. If the skirt fits .....
When BeachBalls was hauled forth to tell us about the run, he said:
All of which turned out to be wrong. Several of the checks seemed to exist only in BeachBalls’s imagination, but he did a fair job all on his own. We ran through the back streets, picking up hordes of kids on the way, tripping over chickens, and trying to avoid getting sprayed by the sweat streaming off Bumtitty.
In the Circle afterwards Begging For It gave us advance notice of the “Time to Give” Hash at Christmas - start collecting books, toys, money etc so that we can give to people who are less fortunate than ourselves. Boogie Boobs made a collection for a young mother known to her who had been widowed as a result of a road crash. Hashers were reminded to pay up for the Morogoro Hash (18th October). A brief Mishmanagement meeting will be held at Ooooooooooor Hoooooooose on Thursday 9th october.
Our very own senior Religious Advisor, CandyMan, rounded on the Hopeless Hares for a piss-poor performance. Apart from BeachBalls’s’s flaky efforts (ibid), NightRider seemed to have no concept of what the responsibilities of a Back Hare are, and LateCummer was wandering around like a headless chicken. The RA, true to his prudish (or envious) nature, felt that HeadGasket had overstepped the mark by playing fast and loose with BoogieBoobs in front of her son. As HeadGasket had scarpered (not surprisingly) another notorious sexual predator - Triar F**k - was made to take HG’s Down Down in his place. Inappropriately dressed non-Virgins included Bumtitty, Rob and Dominatrix. Virgins included Baracka, Mike, Lucy, Kirsty, Chichi, most of whom have a predeliction for coitus canis. There was a distinguished Returnee - Ripper - and no end of nondescript others, including Friar Tuck, ServiceMe, Sadjad, Malcolm, Bumtitty, and not least Begging For It, who claimed to have been off searching for her lost virginity.
CampBed was told off right royally for failing to speak up about next weeks hash - which will be hosted by NightRider somewhere in the depths of Mikocheni B. Do you know where Shopper’s Plaza is?.... well it is nowhere near there.
Torsten’s Friend, which apparently Ripper modelled for, was nearly awarded to Boogie Boobs, because she has always admired it, but finally went to Spitsss and Swallows for chronic whingeing on the walk. There wasn’t much competition for the Hashit though - candidates included LateCummer and Beach Balls for their crap Haring, Squirrel for getting it from another Hashers wife, and Mr S***thole for his wife giving it to another Hashers partner. You get the picture. The Hashit, or what there was of it, went to Beach Balls, as a token of the Hash’s gratitude for setting a Hash.
70 odd people turned up for this monster hash. Allsorts were there: people of extended girth/mirth, Stick Insects, the vertically-challenged - trying to avoid being stepped on, nubile cuties carrying all before them (well... there is no harm in dreaming) a horde of noisy brats (mostly belonging to HeadGasket, so what can you expect) mothers and daughters peeing together in the bushes, a lady straight out of The Sound of Music, cross-dressers, Sad Bastards, Drama Queens, Faerie Queens and Enema Queens, Virgins, Knuckleheads, Brown Hatters, Space Cadets, and Piss Artists (oh sorry, I’ve mentioned them already). Anyway, it was a cracking Hash, with HeadGasket pulling off a few old tricks (so to speak) that meant some Hashers covered a lot of extra ground. Mind you, the Back Hare was bloody useless, sweeping the stragglers up along the wrong route - but what can you expect from a man who wears his suspender belt under his thong.
The mean and miserable buggers (the GM’s words) who had still not paid up for the Morogoro Hash were paraded for general abuse, and these included Mr S***hole, Tiny Sausage and NightRider (ribbed and plain versions available). The GM announced that Gay Haggis is masterminding the transformation of next years Bagomoyo Relay Hash into a post-InterHash event. And next weeks Hash will be hosted by BeachBalls at LateCummers place. The Religious Advisor for the night was Mr S***hole, fresh from the Steppes of Asia, and he led us all in a rumbustious rendering of “Father Abraham”, and then called forth Head Gasket to be congratulated on achieving the grand old age of 60. We drank a toast, and sang Hashy Birthday, and he was given a Brown Hat as a present - tho perhaps we shouldn’t read too much into that. There were many assorted Virgins, mostly of the North American persuasion, but try as we might, we shouldn’t really hold that against them. Their favourite sexual positions were verging (geddit ??) on the pedestrian, so let’s move swiftly on to ParknRide, who is sadly leaving us for a life of indolence in the harem of some randy Arab in North Africa (well close anyway - she is going to be some big noise in the African Development Bank). She has been Hash Cash for years immemoral, and if it hadn’t been for her unstinting efforts doing what is a boring, thankless job, the Hash would have its own clubhouse by now, and the GM would still have some hair. She was given a present of a turkey baster, because she has been out with a few turkeys in her time, and a suitably inscribed T-shirt. She will be missed.
Hornigoat had been given Torsten’s Friend to help console her over the loss of her dearly beloved RentBoy, but the heartless wench casually abandoned it amongst the dirty dishes. So she was awarded it again, and told to return it polished next week. The Hashit went to Saddlesore for flashing it to all and sundry on the walk. The Circle ended with the traditional song, and the ravenous Hashers were finally allowed to ravish - the rather tasty - food.