A little different today, in that the normal G.M. was Haring, along with Burley Chassis, SpermPolluter and his missus, Scar with 2 T’s and Belle Star. So up stepped Kiwi Al , Fleece Lifter usually the Jungle Hash G.M.
A great afternoon’s Hashing, down Pallet Lane, at the Monk’s Retreat, a familiar site for all of us. There were 3 Virgins present, and 2 pairs of new shoes.
I decided that I would take the Walker’s trail, as I was feeling a bit lazy, and not so sure footed these days, due to an over abundance of alcohol, over the years. Sure enough I had only been on trail for ten minutes when I slipped on some loose scree on a hill side, and measured my length, which is almost the same as it was last week, although there may be a tad of shrinkage from my teenage days. (A dim memory now.) Anyway, no damage done, except to my pride, perhaps.
During this walk, which cannot be described as a stroll, due to the loose rocks, and the gentle hills and wild shrubbery, I could hear some really heavy, breathing and groaning going on behind me. Turned out to be Dirt Looney, who, it was reported, was suffering from imbibing too much piss in the last few days. It sounded like he was really on his last legs, and I could picture leaving the drunken sot to meet his maker, but gamely he groaned on.
On arrival at the A site, there was to be found a tub of punch, arranged and organized by Scar with 2 T’s. A potent and tasty drop, much appreciated, quite delicious and fruity.
Fattus Maximus was spotted looking rather melancholy. I guessed it was because the front runners had not yet arrived, and he was casting longing looks at the beer wagon.
There was a discussion under way between General Kidney Wiper, and Tony Tampax about the merits of the fairly new 00% beer. I found out that you can even find Guinness in the same guise. Must be some nasty piss that. Now’t wrong with proper Guinness, I’m sure most of you will agree, other than the high price.
Eventually the runners started to arrive, after I hour and 17 mins, with the beer rations getting reduced alarmingly. It was a hot day!
I discovered that Lord Chicken Fucker’s memorial run it to take place on the 2nd March. I will do my best to attend, as he was my mate, and a great bloke. Funny in the extreme, without trying. He would adlib when he had the circle, and had us all in stitches of laughter.
Spontaneously hilarious, was John, from last night’s notes, which are getting harder and harder to read. Must have been that punch!
Bah Gum, I wrote, that first beer went down so well it never touched the sides of my throttle!
I met Blade Wanker, a lost drunk from South Yorkshire, who loved both Manchester Yoonited, and Sheffield Yoonited. Get a life I scolded him, as he comes from Rotherham!!
The circle was called, with Hash Trash up first. A pair of spectacles was produced and a tiny Ghetto blaster type of mini speaker. Disco Duck and Slime Ball were iced, Uncle and nephew, both called Simon. Uncle Simon was put into the bucket.
Next act was Hash Crash, which I joined after admitting to falling on my arse, but which immediately received remedial treatment, from the Ice.
Hares were Iced, and some whispering of a Swingers group, was overheard.
The raffle got underway, with amazingly only one lady winner. Kidney Wiper claimed a bottle of Instant poison. Don’t know why, as he is under Doct’ors orders not to go near that
Nasty bottle of Thai made “Whisky”. I do hope it isn’t the end of the man.
It was his birthday so he was asked to take a cold seat.
Dingo was seated and we heard the tale from Emperor Airhead, about Dingo possibly fathering an unwanted bastard, by some lass in the Tahitian Queen.
Sir Miserable Cunt was iced, but rather quickly made his escape, the miserable cunt.
Scar took over and said some complimentary things about a Virgin runner ladies Noms, for those of you who don’t know, he was referring to her breasts, the beast!
He then bullied just about everybody in the circle, including me for being a belligerent old man, after a story got out how I was jailed for resisting Police arrest, after a drunken foray down town, which included a lost motor bike, apprehended by the boys in brown.
G.M. swapped over and The Wizard abused Hairy Arse and seated him next to Sperm Polluter for being constant piss ‘eads, and having ants and other crawly things dumped upon his head. (Unclear whose head). Spermy then tried to stick a candle up his own bum.
Mrs Bell End won a 700 run shirt.
Leavers were iced including the sporting Icy Bottom Trucker. ANFI somehow got iced, just for old times sake.
Sperm Polluter and The Wizard came in and sang us a comical rendition of Haring on Monday, to the tune of Money, money from Abba.
Well done lads, you looked quite fetching, wearing wigs.
A great day’s Hashing. Thank you Hares, and the many unsung hero’s who work so hard to make such a successful event.
My apologies to those I have over looked, and to Burley Chasis, to whom I was a bit rude.
Sorry my dear. I can only blame the booze.
On On forever.
Barnacle Bollocks