HASH TRASH
Run No.1277 29 September 2008
Venue: Hoon Towers
Hares: HeadGasket, Jesus, ParknRide

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.

On On
BoB