Well, as someone said today, “you can’t make chicken soup from chicken shit”. So this report is a whole lot of shit, but what the hell – there’s a free run ticket in it for me, so I didn’t mind getting collared. Talking of chickens brings me to the hares. That Chicken Fucker and his sidekick T4 were more than qualified for the task and as they did their customary ice-time most people seemed satisfied with what had been served up. For me, it was a memory jerk back to the last run I had done in January, but the hares assured me that though it seemed like the same run backwards, we had covered different terrain today.  Was just glad to be back amongst the tapiocca and  coconut palms. Sunflower really knows how to get your attention for the raffle with her, “shut the fuck up”. I love girls talking dirty! Amongst the winners was Free Willy with two winning tickets. Some things never change. Leavers this week included ET, who somebody referred to as David Bowie’s dad. I think that was a reference to the various hues his hair takes on from time to time. Let’s rock and roll. It’s Airhead’s turn in the circle and he commends the “senior hares” for finding ground with good drainage. That’s a new one on me. I thought we were supposed to like shiggy. As Ewok wobbled about feeling the effects of the whiskey, Fester gave his respected opinion on the run – “super” or maybe he meant “souper”. We were honoured once again by the presence of several musical Okinawans and they spent plenty of time this evening attempting to warm the ice up – as usual. They were apparently guilty of “fucking up the checks” and introducing more confusion than normal by blowing on their whistles. Backdoor Hacker and his mates gave us a tuneful rendition, which referred amongst other things to fucking women, puking in cars and later on to pistols on knees. Airhead proved once again what a smooth operator he is with the girls by presenting his Award of Excellence to last week’s hares – Sunflower, Semen Swallow and Tree Frog. They were given crowns which Airhead had painstakingly made himself out of recycled products from home. Anyone from the UK would have clearly seen what a good Blue Peter presenter this man would make. The last task for the bad RA this evening was to find a new name. This was more of an ordeal than normal, but we finally defaulted to Shit Thru A Duck, whatever that means. Screw Me was clearly drowning his sorrows and trying to dispel thoughts of his imminent return to the UK. He was iced for not having a hash shirt on and his punishment was double after he threw ice at the GM. With General Kidney Wiper now in charge, it was amusing to see Teeny Weeny singled out for punishment as a Semen Stains look-alike for matters surrounding the recent knee-walk. Stains was reportedly absent as a result of injuries sustained on this clearly dangerous event. The Linda Bar was once again the subject of discussion. This time Fucking Dog was the man deemed guilty of dallying with transformers. I too was offered a cool seat accompanied by Poncho. For me it was in recognition of my declining years (48 on Saturday), while Poncho received the honour simply for being Mexican – well why not! At this point, I am struggling to read my notes. I have written something about “technological plastic bollocks”, which sounds like it was going to be a good laugh – but I’ve forgotten what it was all about. With that admittance to the onslaught of creeping senility, I will wind it up and head off to the GM’s restaurant. Flying Frog texted me to come down this evening and star in a Belgian porno flic that is being filmed at his gaff – sounds like fun. Thanks goes out as usual to this week’s hash bar, the TQ2 and to Spunk Bubble and his staff who made us very welcome and filled us full of chicken and hot dogs.

On on
No More Cum.