Run No # 1332 Scribbling's. (A lovely word that!)
Truly a tough job, that of Hash Scribe. What the hell is all this gibberish I jotted down last night?
I can barely read my own writing, so I will blame it partly on the several bottles of delicious Beer Lao I got down my neck. Alcohol levels have been fairly high over the weekend anyway, due mainly to the Jester’s kid’s bash, where I found myself in bad company with Baby Wipes and a few other dubious characters, and scuppered a few too many Margaritas, so much so that I was extremely relieved to find my motor bike in one piece outside my door the following morning.
Unlike Miserable Cunt, who you may remember barely left his chair during the Hash, and was looking extremely sorry for himself, even holding his head, and looking like shit. He told me he’d spent a couple of hours searching for his car on Monday morning. Never did find out where the missing piece of his nose was, obviously lost too.
Arse-holeo turned up late with his latest bird, no run but straight into the piss. Fucking chancer.
Spaghetti Head proudly showed me his collection of lucky dip mystery tickets, such as a free, “You will scribe before the next moon’, and an obligatory seat in the bucket, and other such delights.
Sheikh Mee Mee was also looking a bit jaded. Not surprising as I had personally seen him, very nearly out of his Gum tree at the kid’s bash the day before, but at the circle he astonished me by showing the contents of his ruck sack and sprinting off on a live run. He’s been too pissed to even recce the run, let alone lay any false trails. What a man! Unlike his overweight co-Hare Hellboy, whose idea it had been to do a live hare run. He was promptly invited into the bucket by Emperor A. H, for being a lazy fucker, and having Mee Mee do all the work. Marc had apparently suggested hiring Shit Through a Duck to do the live run! Fucking amazing.
Ten minutes were allowed before the pack set off in pursuit. Just as we set off a light aircraft took to the sky, and it was rumoured that the Hare was airborne, which was likely the case as the measly scraps of paper looked as though they could have been air dropped.
I bumped into Try a Fuck, who admitted to trying a short cut during the run, getting lost and running an extra 6 kilos. Som Nom Nar! Meanwhile Emperor Airhead and Sir Chicken Fucker only got as far as the nearby aircraft Hangars on the way out, and were still there waffling about Spitfires and B-52’s, when the pack returned, reported to me by Turd Burglar!
Forty minutes later the FRB staggered back, to find a totally fucked and frightened Sheikh Mee Mee, who had sprinted in exactly ten minutes before the first runner. Well done Mee Mee, a true Hash Hero!
Uncle Pervy was brandishing a large chilled jug of his latest home made brew, a mixed Mexican and Canadian Red beer, so I apprehended him and demanded a swig. “Great stuff said he, Aloy, said me.”
The circle got underway proper, with a lot of foreign noises coming from the French quarter.
They were rightly iced for being noisy frogs by Noriega, who had turned up with a very cute tee rak, and was invited to explain where he’s found such a delightful looking dusky maiden. He declined to divulge his secret, lest a load of lecherous Hashers mobbed the joint after he’d fucked off back to Bangkok. Noriega told us there was nothing wrong with being French, as his first wank was over a picture of Bridget Bardot. Nasty bastard.
Noriega declined to buy a Hash shirt for his girl, but the ever gallant Emperor Airhead put his hand in his pocket. An ulterior motive obviously.
Anyway his girl friend very daintily flashed a tantalizing bit of black bum as she took to the ice. She was encouraged by the lovely Ewok, who unfortunately would not show any skin. Ewok called the raffle numbers while Fini the Faggot made animal noises and took the piss. He even carried on while warming up the ice bucket. I reckon he fancies her!
Leavers were called in including Uncle Pervy who told us he was only going to Nakorn Nowhere to visit Hoser on his fiftieth birthday. Pair of old gits.
Rabbit Shooter was seated for getting lost on the way to the run site and asking a woman the way, which confused him even further! Some people never learn.
Karamba was iced for nicking chips before the run had started.
SCF started off on some Hash Anniversaries, and asked Free Willy in to celebrate 400 non runs. At this moment I thought it time to get on my bike and wobble off homeward, while I still could.
ON ON
Barnacle Bollocks.