HASH TRASH
Run No.1340 19 October 2009
Venue: Flatulence’s Gas Station
Hares: Flatulence, Rippa, Shaggy Haggis
Knacked Chef: Shaggy Haggis

It was a most irregular Hash. Flatulence told the runnners that there were various lengths of trail on offer, but he didn’t know his a**e from his elbow, so it was all bullshit. After the first half hour there were runners all over the Peninsula, some taking short cuts, some lost, some in IST clinic - there may be some still out there for all I know. It was piggy black by the time we got back to the gas station, but this was an achievement of sorts. Mr S**t*ole was the GM. Rippa told us that next weeks hash will be at the Brewery, where there will be a short run, an even shorter walk, and a long, long drink. If you are really desperate the St George’s Society are having a bash at the Sweet Easy on Friday, and theres a Halloween Horror at the Marine House on the following Friday. The RA - Cockroach - made the epicurean hashers - Erotic Chicken, Tiny Sausage, and Shaggy take the triple. Bacon n’ Eggs should have been part of it too but he was still been stitched up by the IST Clinic. Returnees included Gollam, Little MG, Mr Bombastic, Erotic Chicken, and Head Gasket. Hashy Birthday was sung at Little MG, who is 18 going on 25. Virgins included Audrey, Colin, Adija, and Maleika whose favourite toy is a Teddy Bear. Then we sung Swing Low Sweet Chariot, and hashers started salivating at the prospect of getting their teeth on Shaggy’s tiny sausage, only to realise to their horror that the ritual was not over. Prawn and Old Mother Riley, who have given years of dedicated, drunken service to the Hash, (who can forget the futility of competing with Prawn in a drinking contest, or his admonition to Slip, Slap, Slop, and the pastoral care that he, the Bishop of Bongoyo, lavished on fallen women) are leaving (so they say) and were made to take the triple - with Flatulence. And to complete the humiliation the GM forced them to act up to “Running Bear” - they definitely can’t come back after that performance. The GM then shamelessly conned Banzai into volunteering for the Hashit. And only then did we eat - but it was real food for once. As I said, all very irregular.

On On
BoB

HASH TRASH
Run No.1339 12 October 2009
Venue: My Little Pony’s Horsebox
Hares: Fat Bastard, My Little Pony

A fair number of the more intrepid hashers made it out beyond the end of civilisation as we know it to Mbezi Beach, where the Hares treated them to some gentle diversionary exercise before they got down to the serious business of the evening.

The GM - CampBed - was so laid back that he was almost horizontal, but somehow things came together in a desultory but entirely consensual way (Wet Dream must have been turning in his grave - if he were dead that is, which I don’t think he is - unless nobody thought to tell me, which is often what happens, as I am not on Facebook, or on Twitter - unlike that Shaggy Haggis, my he can Twitter, you should have heard him on the subject of St Andrews Ball (28 November), which is good value at half the price, and where the procedure for getting tickets is so arcane it could have come out of a Dan Brown novel ..... time for a closing bracket methinks). The Trailmaster - Rippa - astounded everyone by knowing that next week’s hash will be hosted by Flatulence at his gas station on Mahando Street. Shaggy Haggis will also have his hand in it apparently, so be warned.

The RA - Mr S**t**le - tried to bring to account those hashers who have been whingeing about the hash food, but the spineless ba*ta*ds backed down. Flatulence had been complaining about not getting any, but that is a different matter entirely, and the Hash cannot be held in any way responsible for that - and in any case the world and his wife knows that it isnt true. Get Me Off and Twin Peaks were put on display for getting lost and they chose Hornigoat (!?) and Byte My Mega to show them the true path to Nirvana. Returnees included the Bastards (Fat and Tiny) + Bitch, Capt Skidmarks, Dion, Janine and their two nippers. Contrary to Hash etiquette the Returnees were asked to state their FSP (in case there had been any changes, the RA said), and what we heard was: on top; being lazy, not fussy, beating the meat, looking after a cripple, and flying monkey - though I think my notebook got a bit confused at this point. Dion and Janine and their two nippers (who made excellent beer slaves by the way) were named Frozen Meat, JerkOff, Ice Cube and Icicle. And the Hashit was re-awarded to LateCummer for failing to put in an appearance. The Circle ended, as it should, with SLSC.

OnOn
BoB

HASH TRASH
Run No.1338 5 October 2009
Venue: Southern Sun Hotel
Hares: Head Gasket, Nite Rider, Wet Dream

Head Gasket took the runners on a merry dance around the golf course, the mean streets of the city centre, the car park of the Kempinski Hotel, and the chaos of the waterfront, before delivering them into the hell-on-earth that is the Fishmarket. True to tradition, hashers traded fish-smell jokes, and endured being gawked at by the wananchi, before heading home via State House. Cockroach’s duck imitations got the peacocks all hot and bothered on the run in.

The Grand Master (CampBed) strutted into the Circle wearing lederhosen, and his paunch and knobbly knees added authentic touches. However, the total effect was about as sexy as a wet February night in Grimsby. Various unsavoury delights were trailed, including My Little Pony, BagoBones and Close Encounters having a piss-up in Shooters Bar on Tuesday 13th October (7.30 ish)(all welcome), Mama Mia at the Little Theatre (tho’ avoid Friday night if you are of a nervous or sensitive disposition), and a Halloween Party at the Marine House on October 30th (you get a free shot if you turn up in costume - though who at I am not sure). Next weeks Hash will be hosted by Flatulence, and I guess this means that Hornigoat will spend her Sunday squeezing balls. (Editor’s note: the next hash will be hosted by My Little Pony)

The Bishop of Bongoyo, Aloysius Prawn officiated at the arcane ritual of humiliating those hashers who had been guilty of some misdemeanour (real or imagined) or those who had been foolish enough to tell ‘friends’ about some embarassing incident that had happened to them - such as Candyblower, Marianne and Liz burning their bottoms. LateCummer was fingered for giving beer away at the Fishmarket, My Little Pony was inappropriately dressed, and Nutcracker should have been punished for being caught ‘in flagrante’ in a fire engine. Head Gasket was alleged to have had a birthday, and this was used as an excuse to honour all our Hash elders - including Prawn, Panty Pockets, Head Gasket, Marianne, Liz, and BagoBones. I have been assured that the rumour that they are about to form a Dar Hash Over-60s Nudist Leapfrog Team is just that.

There was an unseemly squabble about whether the RA has the right to punish the GM by making him sit on the ice, but soon they were all on it - Prawn, Shaggy Haggis, Head Gasket, the GM, and Mr Sh**hole. But only Prawn and Shaggy Haggis sat it out to the bitter cold end. The Virgins were a cosmopolitan lot, but sad to say they all favoured doggy style, except for Emilian who likes ‘anything in the kitchen.’ Unfortunately for him, Marianne (who likes it up against the fridge) was leaving Tanzania the next day.

There was a very lack-lustre line-up of hopefuls for the Hashit, including My Little Pony (offence against the Dress Code), Two at a Time (racing), LateCummer (mismanagement of wet rations) and Tara (who was just making up the numbers). The Hashit went to LateCummer, pretty much by default. The Circle ended with the traditional song.

OnOn
BoB

Hash Trash 28 September 2009

Hash number 133something

Hosted by Ripper (run) and Candy Blower (walk)

From Valhala coumpound

Candy Man led the circle.

Announcements:

- Congratulations to Panty Pockets for the organisation of the Morogoro weekend. Boxer had a down-down as look alike for PP who was absent. Blame on hashers who did not go to Morogoro: the Marines, Slimy Bastard and Ripper. Their excuses for missing it: the big boss & work for Ripper and the marines; while Slimy Bastard had to shag it (not sure I understood right, but that could make sense in the H context).

- Dominatrix received a pair of tiny shoes from a lovely non-hasher who had found them in Morogoro. All uncaring parents who had brought children went for a down-down: Nasty Pasty, Candy Blower and Uncle Paddy. But we still don’t know whom the shoes belong to, so Dominatrix kept them.….

- Party at the Marines House this Friday, 7h30 pm, bring an ID. There will be alcohol, music and hopefully some bitching. Cockroach looks interested.

- Beach Ball is coming up in November. Marines will send email with details.

- Ripper is asking for volunteers to host the H. It is very easy; you just find a venue, no matter where, and you will get all the help you need.

- Head Gasket will host the H next week from Southern Sun hotel. There will be good food, beer stop…and if it is “comme d’habitude”, we will go through the stinky fish market. There was an “Où est le papier?” version of the French anthem when Head (or Ed?) Gasket reported about missing paper on the road.

Hares’ judgement time:

On the run by Ripper, Horny Goat was pleased the run had been pleasant and didn’t pass by Chake Chake Street, which is bumpy and uphill.

Dominatrix found that the walk by Candyblower was bloody marvellous, while Head Gasket, trying to be rude, complained it was long hot and sweaty (ok but what about the walk?).

The undersigned and Betty Boop sang with their best feminine voices to counterbalance the dominant masculine voices in a choir directed by Head Gasket.

R.A. Mr Shithole condemned the Safari delivery failure - as the down-downs were with Kilimanjaro – and called the culprits (Stiff Cocktail, SuzieQ - who claimed to be only the messenger and Late Cummer – who was lucky to be absent and represented by Dumb Ass as look alike). Boxer was questioned about some turtle driving slowly the undersigned car. Slimy Bastard was accused of not keeping the track, running his own H, not wearing a H tee-shirt and overall looking for trouble.

Returnees: 4 marines, Ripper, a very posh visitor wearing very formal shoes and a Mr Stat. Head Gasket volunteered because he was not at the H last Monday (hey, but there was no H last Monday, it was Morogoro weekend.

Only one virgin, Miriam from Germany, was brought by Rosemary, Cilia and Sarah. Flatulence, Head Gasket, Slimy Bastard and Mr Shithole volunteered to try Miriam’s FSP but none of them succeeded.

CandyMan came back in the centre. Nominees for H sh*t were Slimy Bastard, for his complete lack of respect for H rules and Mr Shithole for burping too much. Late Cummer was once more lucky to be absent. Slimy Bastard is the new H sh*t.

On Monday, the H will be from Southern Sun Hotel, hosted by Head Gasket

On On!

Foxy Pussy

HASH TRASH
Run No. 1336 15 September 2009
Venue: Mystery location, Morogoro
Hares: Wet Dream, Boxer, Prawn.

The traditional Hare of the Dog run took place after Church on Sunday morning, and was as enjoyable as ever. There is nothing that gives us old hands quite so much innocent fun as watching Hashers clamber up that cliff on the false trail (yes, I have been caught myself in the past). There seemed to be more than the usual number of knee-tremblers on the final rocky stages of the on-home. Hashers were enjoined to make a small Circle (Wet Dream says he always likes a tight one) but fortunately the GM’s customary pomposity was punctured by Calum putting ice down his dad’s shorts. When asked about the walk Candyblower said that it was fine apart from the jump she got at the end. EasyLet said it was a piece of cake, but then she was wearing two bras to help prevent over-balancing. Mr Bombastic said it was a rough ride. The RA - Mr S - pointed out that Frozen Assets was the only Hasher to have slept with LateCummer and got a good nights sleep. All thoughts of lunch were dispelled when Hashers were forced to view Twist’s meat and two veg. Mutineers suitably punished included Old Mother Reilly, Nasty Pasty, Boogie Boobs, Bumtitty, and Prawn. EasyLet reminded us to go see Mamma Mia at the Little Theatre, 2 - 10th October. The Circle ended with the singing of SLSC.

HASH TRASH
Run No.1335 14 September 2009
Venue: Hotel California, Morogoro
Hares: BagoBones, Panty Pockets

Just for the record, there were 8 kids on the Hash and another 60 or so folk whose mental development seemed to have been arrested around the age of 15. As you would expect from such an anally-retentive GM the Hash started smack on 4 o’ clock (I heard the Mission Bell ring) and followed the very well-worn classic trail up the mountain. At one point the runners came across some very pedestrian pedestrians - one of whom was EasyLet (such a lovely face) being coaxed down a 5% slope by a dozen Hashers (she will wear those high heels everywhere - perhaps they are surgically attached?). Any road, after much huffing, puffing and horning, we reached the rocks (such a lovely place). Relax, said the Nightman (Wet Dream, who else) and then he proceeded to lead us in a bravura performance of “Father Abraham” in order to check who was fit enough to join the summit team. Needless to say (but I am saying it anyway) the summit attempt was successful, but there was a scary moment on the vertiginious retreat when Head Gasket pushed his son Dylan (as he was then known) off a cliff in order to make a good photo.

The GM (Candyman) kicked off the Circle with a round-up of Hashers who had fallen foul of the Law on the dark, desert highway - these included Head Gasket, Panty Pockets, Easy Let, LateCummer and Dumb Ass. They took their downs downs in Warm Safari on account of the unaccountable absence of pink champagne on ice. Flatulence said he had had a long ride, but whether he was referring to the journey or some other unsavoury activity was left to the imagination. PantyPockets, LateCummer, Stiff Cock Tail, BagoBones, Flatulence and Bumtitty were thanked for mismanaging the event to good effect, though Erotic Chicken complained bitterly about the lack of mirrors on the ceilings. The Religious Advisor - Mr Sh***ole - called forth various Hashers who had gone arse over tit, including Easy Let, Hornigoat (she got a lot of pretty pretty boys, she calls friends), Boxer, Tiny Sausage and Dominatrix. Virgins were thin on the ground, and we had to make do with Liz (FSP: all of them) Pelagia (FSP: wouldn’t tell) and Marianne (FSP: up against a fridge (I bet she is a real handful in Currys)). Returnees included Frozen Assets (hurrah for Frozen!) Dar She Blows, Bumtitty, Quasa Quasa (she got the mercedes bends) and Luscious Lucy. Neophyte Jill was named Whipped Cream, young Dylan will now be known as SpitHoon, Rosemary becomes Mind the Gap, and Grace’s two greatest assets inspired Wet Dream to come up with her name of Twin Peaks. When it came to awarding the Hashit there was a lot of Tit for Tat (aka CandyMan and CandyBlower (no suprises there then) as well as Nasty Pasty (Her mind is tiffany-twisted). It went to a very deserving Nasty Pasty. Just as my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim we sang Swing low Sweet chariot and slunk off to dinner.

On On
BoB

HASH TRASH
Run No.1334 14 September 2009
Venue: Bulldogs
Hares: Rippa, Wet Dream, Boogie Boobs

A classic trail around the familiar streets of the Peninsula - fast-ish, well-marked, and with a few loops and other tricks, as expected from a very old hand like Ripper. Just a pity that he chose a Back Hare who can’t read a map and who managed to get the Hashit and his floozy lost. Some people went for a walk.

I thought it was a cracking trail, but Bumtitty didn’t like it and Slapper said it was a little bit left. No announcement was made about the Morogoro Hash, for which we were all heartily grateful. But there will be no Hash on the 21st. Gives you a chance to do something worthwhile on a Monday night instead of hanging out with a load of sad, degenerate toss-pots and other low life. Talking of which, Erotic Chicken led us all in the singing of a new and charming ditty all about “Charlotte the Harlot.” Somehow I don’t think it will catch on, but all praise to EC for trying to get the Hash onto a more uplifting plane. That notorious “pinko” Candyman strutted forward to deliver his usual sanctimonious religious clap-trap, only to find himself assailed on all sides for forgetting he has a wife. So, he had a bit of a cheek to try and finger Bumtitty for the perfectly reasonable purchase of French Letters in mid-run. Anyway Bumtitty wasn’t having any, so the RA turned on the short-cutting bastards instead - who included Lord Whore Whore, Gobbler, Gobbler’s gobblemate, Wet Dream and BagoBones. Returnees with pathetic excuses included, Mr S**thole, Mr Bombastic, French Letters (aka Foxy Pussy), Lord Whorre Whore, Close Encounters, Service Me, and Extra Testicular. There were Virgins a plenty - there’s never one when you need one, and then they all come together in a rush - c’est la vie, as Foxy Pussy probably never says. Anyway, they were mostly Cheeseheads and Canucks with plebian FSPs, but the Circle noted with amusement that both Karen and Fralka like doing it in elevators - with Karen preferring to go down while Fralka likes it up.

“Mr Egregious” aka The Grand Master took back control of the proceedings with a throw-away remark about some Harriette’s proclivities (at least that’s what my notepad says he said). After some beating around the bush, Damas was named DumbAss, and some other dude was saddled with Byte My Mega. Sad sad to report that this was the last Hash for that flower of young British womanhood - Rubber Bum. Her farewell Down Down was kicked off by Boogie Boobs’s “Cover your ass girl”. Wise words, Boogie. The Hashit was a toss-up between CandyBlower and Flatulence, but I could sense that the Circle had a deep yearning to give it to CandyBlower, so thats where it went. Only fair really. And the Circle ended with the heavenly choir singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”.

On On
BoB

HASH TRASH
Run No.1333 8 September 2009
Venue: DYC Beach Banda
Hares: Cockroach, Boxer, CampBed

If I had known it was going to be a Night Hash I would have worn my headtorch. It was sooooo looooong - and there seemed to be very few roads in the northern part of the Peninsula that we didn’t run down or up. Of course it is better for it to be too long than too short, as the Bishop said to the actress - and of course I should make it clear that I am not referring here to our own, the Very Upstanding, Bishop of Bongoyo. I blame Boxer - since his devious plan for room sharing at Hotel California was thwarted, he has tried to wreak his revenge on the rest of the Hash. Now where was i ? Ah yes, the run - somewhere on Mahando Street there was a fish hook that told the FRBs to run back to the tail enders, and, as a perennial tail ender myself, I thought this was a real neat idea. Somewhere else we met a whole pack of smug young marrieds running and pushing their darling offspring ahead of them in buggies. I didn’t think they were our type, so I didn’t invite them to join us. And the RA went back in the beer truck - hmm! Any road, and when all is said and done, and it comes to hey lads hey, it was a cracking trail. Well done. I was told afterwards that some people went on a walk while we were having fun - pole sana.

There were 69 Hashers in attendance, and, if there ever there was a tired old FSP, it is that one (of which more anon). Our much revered Grand Master - CampBed - kicked off the Circle by using the word “egregious” twice in as many minutes, but he hasn’t got anything to do all day but read the dictionary, so what can you expect. He then gave the sad remnants of the ancien regime - Wet Dream, Boogie Boobs and Frozen Scrotum - a down down as a mark of disrespect. The Trailmaster was AWOL, so Fat Bastard and Tiny Bastard stood in for him and did a very passable imitation of the great man - not of course having a clue where next weeks hash will be. The Religious Advisor - Candyman - who else - girded his loins and took us through a sad miscellany of Missdemeanours, Returnees, Forgetful Ones and Piss Artists, including, in no particular order, Triar Fu*c*, Erotic Chicken, Head Gasket, Cow-Piss, Frozen Scrotum, Kilimamjackoff, Dominatrix, Nasty Pasty, the Bastards (Fat & Tiny), and Shaggy Haggis aka Hash Mouth. Sad to report that this was the last Hash for Frozen Scrotum - who did loyal service as Beer Master for more Hashes than he cares to remember. Also, farewell tears for Spare and Enema Queen, notorious FRBs, and very generous Hash Hosts. We will miss them, and, as all they have got to look forward to is driving to IKEA on a Sunday morning in the Volvo while listening to their Abba tapes, they will probably miss us too.

Now at last we are getting to the serious part of the evening. The RA said that he had never had so many Virgins in one night before, and that is saying something hey. There were sweet seventeen, including, Lucy, Randy, Candy, Racy, Tracy, Ivan, Tyrone, Bob the Builder - ok - I admit that I lost the plot somewhere there, and decided to conserve my pencil lead to record the real action. Expectations were impossibly high as the Circle closed in to hear the salacious details of the Virgin’s favourite sexual positions. One of the Virgins avowed an FSP that came as a surprise to his mother, but sadly, none of them had FSPs that made you want to rush home with the wife and try it out. Moving very quickly on now to the Hashit - Dominatrix aka Hash Harlot was finally allowed to divest herself of the regalia, but, after the Virgins episode, the Circle was in detumescent mood, and the Hashit went to neophyte Gourav without much of a contest. Why did he get the Hashit you ask? Because he is a Greedy Greedy Hippo thats why - though my notes record that the Circle misguidedly voted him the name of Gobbbler or was it Grobelaar? The Hash ended, as it does in the very best circles, with the singing of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.”

OnOn
BoB

Hash Trash 1332 of the Dar es Salaam Hash

Run: 1332

Venue: Tanzania Breweries

Hare boogie boob & Reaper

The hash started at 5: 30 pm with a breweries tour of which head casket, mother trucker and get me off had to find their own way about the breweries as Freddie had whisked off everyone without leaving a trace of where to start the tour, oh well the musketeers managed to located the hashers finally and followed on the very educative tour of why people get hangovers when did the hash become a support group

Immediately after the tour, was a short run around the breweries, I clearly have no clue where the walk and run was, but they ran and walked back to the breweries.

The GM called the circle to a start and he was rather shocked that bag of bones was MIA, but the day was saved because I was the only one who could spell while drunk, dancing to congomani music and write on carton box. courtesy of boxer

Apparently saying you’re not hashing and mysteriously showing up for the hash is not advisable, well the GM called bum titty and boxer in the circle for this crude act of insubordination and ratchet was glad to join in

Please keep reading it gets better. Anyway as I was saying the down downs started and we used some rather peculiar plastic cups for down downs, are we running out of warm safari thus the need to ration it??????? Times are really heard hashers, the recession has hit the warm safari.

Hares were called into the circle boogie boobs and reaper and when asked about the run, erotic chicken thought that the markings were insane and didn’t see any. No wonder I got lost on the run.

A panty pocket look alike was called in the circle it had something to do with morogoro , Hansen the marine decided he looks like panty pockets this got the marines hysterical and parental guidance is advised f*@king now or f@ck it now gave way too much information on that.

When asked about next week’s hash reaper mentioned something about the hash being at police officers mess in the peninsular and to be hosted by cockroach!!!! a look alike was called in the circle knight rider /night rider

Our RA candy man stepped in and called out all the misdemeanours on the hash and shamelessly they were too many offences in the hash including the fact that the RA was wearing candy blowers hash T shirt.

Of the atrocities committed in the hash was the fashion while on the breweries tours, no hash shit was worn on the tour and hashers wearing running shoes/sneakers/ leather shoes and I think I saw some prada on the tour

Boogie boobs was called into the circle by the RA to explain the difference between a sneaker and running shoes, I believe their was an explanation I just don’t know what it was though.

As usual the SCB were called by the RA and some people just never learn .the returnees were called into the circle and they were candy blower who was on holiday, bottoms up – out of the country and bum titty – travelling and one guy in a green t shirt.

We had a lot of virgins if only they allowed the ritual sacrifice of virgins… mmh gone are the days of rituals oh well, the virgins included Shiko from Kenya , erotic chicken made her come and her FSP is on top ; Ivy from Kenya brought by erotic chicken and her FSP does not involve erotic chicken and done it once??? Archina from Indian brought by Betties boo and her FSP Kama sutra; Rachel from USA, FSP somewhere in the middle??? I didn’t understand this, middle of where??? Megan from the USA who likes reverse cow girl and finally Jennifer from USA likes to be on top wearing someone’s t-shirt.

Hashers broke into a harmonious chorus of warm safari in honour of the breweries tour and note of thank was given to Freddie for being such a wonderful tour guide.

The Hash sh*t was a very stiff competition for the Monday run, nominations included dominatrix for wanting the hash sh** so badly she even pimped the gear up, Aiiilililiiiii for not running or walking, Dan for being an on and off hasher and finally Wounded Knee for being Wounded Knee.

After much heckling from the hashers on who should be hash sh** the award went to dominatrix for wanting it so badly.

Virgins were called back into the circle and the circle ended with the Sweet low...

On on

Get me off

HASH TRASH
Run No.1331 25 August 2009
Venue: Trinity Bar, Msasani
Hares: Bagobones, Panty Pockets, Hot Safari

Yet another superb run from the old-uns but good-uns - it was long, stiff, fast and not at all hairy - what more could you want? Yeh - ok - apart from two beer stops manned by scantily-clad nymphets. I fully accept that Shaggy Haggis doesn’t quite fit that description, but Little MG was atop the truck and, if she is not a nymphet, I don’t know who is, and she was scantily-shod at least. A first for the Dar Hash was three Virgins in a taxi (there’s a joke there somewhere) joining the run at the second check. And within ten minutes they were short-cutting - having been led astray by that incorrigible deviant - Rippa.

The Grand Master (CampBed) - in an innnonative mood - set about organising a mini-marathon for short-cutting bastards that included Shaggy, Little MG and Saddlesore. Shaggy won I think but he had to be topped up by Rippa half way round. Twist, who has been having panic attacks about catching syphilis again from our rusty tin mugs, was thanked for supplying plastic beakers for the down downs. The Trailmaster claimed to know where NWH will be, but was widely disbelieved. It will be at the Brewery (if you believe him) and will involve a short jog to the beer taps. Movie Nite at the Marine Shack will be this Thursday starting at 17.30 for curtain up at 19.00 (showing the latest Star Trek). And, if cross-dressing soldiers turn you on, the Marines Costume Party will be on October 31st. Good to see the pukka Religious Advisor back - Candyman of course. He kicked off by dragging out the forgetful ones - Little MG and Cockroach (twice over). “Warm Safari” was sung, and Wet Dream (who cares about these things) gave his seal of approval to the “Oggies.” The RA regretted not being able to rub Prawn’s nose in the Ashes, but a Prawn lookalike - Boxer - was humiliated instead. Hash Hincontinents - Head Gasket, Twist and Panty Pockets - took the triple, and the RA said that their performance was the best he had ever seen in the long history of the device. Returnees included Capt. Skidmarks, Enema Queen, Two Fingers, Pluckin Useless, and Little MG. The Virgins were a mix of Canucks and Yanks. When one of them, James, was asked about his Favourite Sexual Position, he replied that he was just glad to get any sex, let alone have a favourite position. Candidates for Hashit included the Hash Mouth (Shaggy Haggis (for being a terrorist-freeing Scotsman)) and the Hash Harlot (Dominatrix (for not being properly dressed)) - it was a very close thing, but, after consulting the third umpire, the GM awarded it to Dominatrix. And didn’t she wear it with style. The Circle ended with the traditional song from Louisiana. Praise the Lord, and On On.

BoB

HASH TRASH
Run No.1330 18 August 2009
Venue: CampBed’s tent, Msasani
Hares: CampBed, SpitssnSwallows, Nick (as he was then known), John

Yet another competently-set, straightforward and fast run from someone who has to be fit for his job. It was made even faster by the Hare failing to hold the checks (of which more later), so those who don’t have to be fit to do their job had to struggle on as best they could. But the back hare did his stuff, and we didn’t lose anyone. The walk was said to be “good” - “GOOD!!” - that’s only marginally less pathetic than “nice”.

The Grand Master - CampBed - whipped up the Circle eventually. Nick (as he was then known) invited all and sundry (and some hashers are very sundry indeed) to a costume party at the Marine House on the 31st - probably October 31st, but I am not entirely sure - does it matter? Panty Pockets announced that the Morogoro Hash is a sell-out. The Trailmaster didn’t know where next weeks hash will be (surprise, surprise) but thanks to insider knowledge I can exclusively reveal that it will be at Trinity Bar on Msasani Road (a map will be sent out - or perhaps it won’t). The Guest Religious Advisor was LateCummer who kicked off his performance by dragging goats and goat owners into the Circle - who included Wounded Knee, Dominatrix, Head Gasket and Boxer (though of course Boxer is more of a black sheep than a goat). They were followed by beerspillers, madcrappers, and returnees - one of whom had been to Arushasha. Hashy Birthday was sung in honour of CampBed - and Boxer. Virgins (all Yanks) included Mona (“I’m a virgin, I don’t have a FSP) John (Flying Monkey) Virginia (Asleep) Kamera (Can’t remember) and Bronwen (horsey). LateCummer welcomed them with the Warm Safari song, but his Oggies at the end were the worst in living memory. CampBed thought it high time that Nick, who in real life is the Cultural Attache at the US Embassy, should have a hash name. After much careful, sober reflection the Circle voted for the name F**k It Now. I have heard worse but not much. And it was only fitting that he also walked away with the Hashit - nominally for not holding the checks. The Circle ended with a spirited rendering of Swing Low Sweet Chariot. And sadly the ugali went to waste because Tiny Sausage, who asked for it, didn’t pitch up.

On On
BoB