Hash Trash 1539
27 January 2013 MACTILDA HASH – in honour of Robert Burns’s birthday and Australia Day

Venue: Bongoyo Island
Hares: BagOBones, Panty Pockets
GM: Cockroach
RA: Shaggy Haggis (dressed in a grotesque onesie provided by his Mum – as in “He may be a joy to his Mother, but he’s a ….”)

Another triumph of mismanagement. One screw-up on the transport (last year) might be unremarkable, but to make exactly the same mistake again this year denotes incompetence of the very highest order. How we keep on delivering Bongoyo Hashes of this consistent quality is truly amazing. It’s a sure sign that your mismanagement has natural talent in this area, so if you are planning an event, a wedding, a barmitzvah, or a circumcision ceremony perhaps, please think of us – and don’t have any of us involved in anything to do with it. Bongoyo Cathedral was packed for the Annual Service of Re-Dedication, with Cardinal Bones officiating, and Panty Pockets reading the First Lesson. Sadly, no Aussie attended, but Jocks were ten a penny (which is overvaluing them in my view, Ed). The singing of the hymn (No. 69 Hashing Mactilda) raised the roof. It was a wet walk back along the beach, but fortunately SharkKiller wasn’t with us this year.

The Circle was in the sea, complete with salty Safari Down Downs, a general lack of control (the sea turning a yellow colour), far too much sex, and the Hashit going to Nuts$Lurve on the very reasonable grounds that time for her to have it is running out. In the absence of the usual regalia it was decided that she should wear the RA’s onesie. It took five hashers (all men, needless to say) to grope her into it underwater, but we succeeded – and then she looked even cuter than Sparkle.

The skirl of the bagpipes sent many tourists scurrying to the wash room, but the cognoscenti knew that it heralded the arrival of the warm, reekin’, rich, free-range, haggis. BlowJob (the Piper) assured me that, despite the sound his bagpipes makes, no animal was harmed in the making of his instrument. And his mate HandJob (the Drummer) insisted that his instruments are not made from foreskins. As always, the Harriettes won the tug-of-war, and I think Hitler won the welly-wanging - to the glory of the Third Reich. Some creep tried to cheat and filled his welly with sand in order to give it more gravitas – it sank to the bottom and was never seen again. The GM has promised a full independent inquiry into what went wrong with the welly-wanging, so that mismanagement can learn lessons from it and ensure that this tragic event is never repeated. In the meantime we just have to hope that the owner of the welly loses a leg.

On On
BoB