Hash Scribblings Run No 2047, I think.
Here we are again. Foolishly, I let myself be talked into being the Scrivener again.
The main difficulty is trying to decipher yesterday’s notes, my handwriting seemingly not as good as it used to be.
After a long taxi ride, almost an hour, we reached the run site. Quite beautiful in the countryside with cows and ants, and a stream meandering alongside the site. Very different from next week’s run when General Kidney Wiper and I volunteered to Hare. In the years in which we have been attending the Monday Hash, the town of Pattaya has grown hugely, hence the long bus ride in order to find the perfect running area, which yesterday’s run was, so hats off to Beetroot Head and Bubbles.
I set off to walk the trail, and immediately received a sand fly in my eye, which stung like a bastard. I ran back to the beer wagon, where a bottle of water was poured into my bleeper. This removed the unwelcome object, but left me way behind the pack. As a consequence, I missed the split, in my haste, and ended up off paper with Sir Arse-A-Holic, who fortunately, was sporting a really good GPS wristwatch, which showed us the way back to the A site.
Around an hour later, with several other lost and very dirty runners arriving, hobbled in Just Tracy, with her old man helping her along after she suffered a twisted ankle. Had she been drinking before I wondered? Eating Monster kindly gave some first aid in the form of a massage. The front-runners came in soon after, led by Herring Choker and our Kiwi mate, Seal Sucker. 8.4kls was announced with 4.1 for the walkers. Everybody would have been back earlier, as The Hares had cunningly led us through some quicksand, which almost claimed several persons, as was seen by the muddy legs and shoes sported by the “Stick in the Muds”, amongst whom was the G.M, and No name James, looking like the Monster from the Pit, and General Kidney Wiper also narrowly escaped being sucked down into the mire. Likewise, YMCA was seen muttering to himself as he wrung out his socks.
Spastic Whore King asked my very sneakily to give him a favourable report, and say nothing rude about his shit photographic efforts.
As the circle started, several arses were seated on the cool stuff, noticeably Mr Cheap, on his return from the P.R., where he is giving the expats a bad name for being so ‘Kee Neow'. Likewise, the noisy English fucker who started off the day drunk. He remarkably made it back to the A site. He was bucketed for being such a vociferous cunt, and still wouldn’t shut his gob.
Hares were Iced, for being a pair of wankers. A couple of Crashers then took to the Ice. James no name, lost the sole of his shoe, and was voted to be renamed “Who the Fuck am I?”, ably arranged by Emperor Airhead.
The Lottery was held, to the cry of “Corruption”, from Stupid Kraut Cunt.
We all tried to win the pretty Black Panther, but she is spoken for, sadly.
Bubbles got a mention, for somehow getting his phone flooded, despite it being in a zip lock bag.
A visiting G.M, 2 Fast Too curious, was the first winner. I can’t remember what he won, as I was myself getting slightly inebriated, amazingly.
He was then Iced, along with his missus, who was then named, Twisted In Thailand.
Dave, a miner from Queensland was Iced and asked about his job, and will likely soon receive a rude name. Sperm Polluter offered the name Sucked Up, or Off. Something to do with their method of getting back to the surface, after being a kilometer underground.
Who Cut The Cheese, an unfortunate lad from Lancashire, as he is a fan of that other footie team in Manchester. (The one that cannot win trophies anymore) received a 50 run T shirt.
G.I. Joe and Herring Choker were Iced, and Joe retained the spoon, with the accolade Wanker of the week.
Something Kinder was appreciated for doing such a good job with the rags. Then yours truly sang a song for the Hares, remembered from 1965. Remarkably, as these days, I usually cannot remember even where I left my reading glasses. My wife said recently, you are wearing them!
Ah well. Apologies for anybody not mentioned, and thanks for the good fun and hard work from the Committee members, and other VIP’s.
Please be reminded that without Hares, we cannot function as a drinking /Running club.
On On Barnacle Bollocks