After a plaintive APB from Home Brew, your humble scribe (YHS) stepped up to the plate and planted his ample arse on the scribe chair. Run was well marked and mercifully mostly in the shade. Those crafty bastards, the hares had the pack heading up a hill, at the top of which the ominous sound of rushing water could be heard. Yes there had been a bit of rain lately, so a swamp wade was feared by many, including YHS. Pack then doubled back to the A site, so all that for nowt! Sadly the beer hunters had already departed.
Run had a lot of jungle trails, shady but if anything even higher humidity than elsewhere. Skirted past pineapple plantations, then tip-toed through the tapioca (gotta be a melody there, someone, anyone?). Saw some mightily impressive mansions towards the end of trail. A hasher with more coin and higher standards than YHS scoffed ‘Just a little fixer-upper’. At least a 20 dry minute wait from return to the A site till the first runner, Seal sucker, arrived to herald the start of lubricious festivities.
Circle up! Hash Crashes? Yep a couple of beer hunters, Serial Killer plus 1. Not clear what happened, but the hunters became the hunted and paid the price. Crash helmet on oversized head. Head? Who said…….
Hash trash, green cap and sunglasses, no claimants. From Swamp Rat Run, eating kit (Ging Gang Gooley), green towel will be used to clean the truck, and prescription specs, to be re-exhibited next week.
All hares had birthdays around this time, so were identified as Libyans, sorry Librans (fucking auto correct!). Users of some menstruation product I believe. How was the run? Great (Chuck the fuck up), enjoyed (Just because), 10.5Km (GI Joe). Shit on my Chest struggled with the tapioca hills. Fleece lifter mentioned a horror film, Children of the Corn, a reference lost on YHS. Steptoe had a good walk and Herring Choker said ‘good’.
Smelly Codpiece donated a litre of Absolut vodka to the raffle. Respect! Duly snaffled by Lady Squeeze My Tubes. Another winner (?) Dog Twat sat on ice for entering circle wearing cap. ‘Too many rules’ he muttered ungraciously. Lucky stroke took cookies, Erik red wine. Won again but generously declined to take another prize. Womb Broom got something or other, Serial Killer took the torch. Steptoe won Pringles but sat on ice for beer and bumbag. Jean-Pierre sat on ice for optimistically presenting a non-winning ticket. Arse van Hole took 5kg bag of rice.
Emperor Airhead iced the hares. Wondered if Asians follow the same Zodiac as in the West. Long musings about the year of the dog, cat, rat, pig and goldfish. FYI the zodiac follows months, not years. Serial killer (?) had his face re-arranged by some Pommie git displeased by obstruction of a game of pool. Would have been safer in the TQ, which however is not a safe haven for one’s wallet.
John, the pervert teacher (librarian actually) from an American middle school, got named Diaper Sniper. Gas man (favourite word “cunt”), wearing a prison T-shirt, gets his kicks driving trucks with 20 tons of explosive on board. SLAP no 2 has no finger prints, could explain the unsolved crime spree we’ve been hearing about. Birthdays? hares plus Dirt Looney.
Super Scrooge, Seal Sucker is leaving, some money-saving ploy apparently. Hares sang some ditty to tune of Hey Jude (“harder, harder etc”). Final down-down, hymn then on to Nicky’s bar
On on shitHead