After a surreal 3 days in Cambodia, I was back to relative reality on the Monday run. The only daunting aspect was the fact that Free Willy and his crew were haring and the prospect of losing my daughter again around Christmas-time was looming large. The theme for today's run was a cold one and not only due to the normal heat exchanging activities in the circle. You could almost feel the chill wind blowing down the Second Road as the bus set off for its distant destination, so close to the Arctic Circle that it was out of range for Sir Airhead. As we reached the picturesque A-site set amongst woodland next to a lake, I am sure there was snow in the air. Chicken Fucker missed the start of the run due to "a plunger thing" sticking in the truck's carburettor. Had it frozen solid? Some suspected he had just forgotten to put juice in. When he finally arrived, the sausages were frozen and T4 somehow got the blame. Some found the weather so bitter that they were compelled to dress up accordingly in heavy winter gear, while the rest of us true occidentals stood around in the usual t-shirts. Tampax and his girlfriend, Spag Head and Elvis Presley's dad (some confused Thai passer-by) among others all did time on the ice for this perceived misdemeanour. There was even a Skandi beer-garden. All we needed were some reindeer. We were graced by the presence of Derelick, complete with casual shirt, jeans and sunglasses at a jaunty angle on his head, looking like he had just come out for a beer and a girl. Sun Flower wore a bigger-than-usual smile for reasons she wouldn't disclose. Rosie the Lion tamer was up again from Phuket and managed to secure special permission from the GM to sit in the circle on grounds of a dodgy back. Odd Job was back from a photography mission back in Norway to relieve us of the Poncho flashing experience. The run was short, through beautiful woodland and my path was guided at times by Pussycat's hypnotic ass-movements, which are apparently bigger these days than they were. She has offered to give all her skirts which no longer fit to Cum Yak Yak. I was amazed to discover a certain Ron Kitchen on his second run, who had no knowledge of hashing at all. He was oblivious to the fact that he should be following paper and was unaware of checks or FTs. He was suitably dealt with later by the GM along with the original sponsors. In the absence of Sir Airhead, the circus was conducted almost entirely by ringmasters Flying Frog and Sir Chicken Fucker with the usual clowns providing the entertainment. Memorable moments included a sort of festive willy warmer worn by  No Trucking Idea and Derelick's description of his special inspection tool, which he uses to check out the more personal features of suspected katoeys. VV, Wank-King, Tampax and Knob Marley were iced by the GM for over-indulging at some cheap-Charlie eat-as-much-as you-can-for-nothing restaurant, but Flying Frog was amusingly unwilling to let on about the location of this rival establishment. In the absence of Seaman Stains, the destruction of the hash hymn was led by a by this time precariously swaying Derelick, who reminded me of an old rocker singing an anthem to an audience more familiar with the script than he was - priceless. Thanks go out as usual to our hash bars. On this occasion it was Jameson’s and Kim did not let us down. It was almost as good as a plate of Mary followed by fudge and nuts. We should remember in Pattaya that we as a hash are very fortunate to have this kind of support and that we must be the envy of hashes around the world.
If anyone found a red Adidas bikini in a plastic bag on the bus, it belongs to Cum Yak Yak and I lost it. Give me a call on 061296153.

On on,
Karl (aka No More Cum)