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