The Hares (Dirt Looney, Sperm Polluter & the GM himself, The Wizard of Oz) were creative and insightful in providing a theme-based event, to celebrate Christmas in July; they decided something different would serve as a breath of fresh air to invigorate the PH3 membership and, inadvertently to also treat a contingent of Hash virgins, 7-strong in number…..Colorful X-mas costumes were sported by the 3 hares, as well as by the lieutenants of hash flash, Haberdashery, and VV stalwartly standing in as Barbeque Father Christmas, as the Hares lent further support and very tightly-choreographed organizational prowess, especially in the 2nd Circle; yet I’ll not get ahead of myself, right yet.
With new-shoe wearers having quaffed 1st Circle beers from their respective footwear, and the Virgin Males having each received beer condoms and the Virgin Females proudly wearing their respective PH3 fluorescent orange caps. Gangreen, upon inviting any & all fat, lazy and/or infirm Hashers, to join him, bumbled off up the dirt road toward the 1st available bar. The pack set off through farmers’ freshly-tilled fields and enjoyed running, jogging and walking – all the while sweating profusely under a powerful, tropical summer sun; taking in the lovely pastoral environs to eventually reach the Run/Walk split, the only reprieve so far from that fiercely shining yellow orb upon high was the challenge of descending into and up again out of two jungle ravines. Here the runners began to be subjected to ever-increasingly steep, hot, long, dusty and continuing oft-sparsely shaded roads & cycle tracks.
The Hares did their best in a quest to kill the participant runners in the kennel, as it tortuously wended its way treacherously ever-upward; suffice it to say that there were multiple summits conquered, with splendid panoramic views being the reward. Bedraggled and strung out along the in-trail, the runners sorely limped into the lager, where all were graced not with chestnuts roasting over an open fire, but with VV grilling les Belgian saucisson(s), toiling within a blue-grey cloud of smokiest smoke that obscured his presence from his belly-button upward…...the mystery chef, sans his ponytail, tell-tale braided-beard and head bandana was quite a sight not to behold! No Jack Frost nipping at anyone’s nose here, but well replaced by VV’s lower half, dripping perspiration to soak through his ever-clad fatigue-patterned leggings, as he continued to toil at the smoky grill just under a colossal coconut palm tree. To borrow a line from the great Arctic region poet, Robert W Service, (amended to us here in equatorial climes) as regards the overheated Hashers arriving at trails end: ‘It was icy cold (not!) and the hot sweat rolled down their cheeks, and we all knew why, and the greasy smoke, in an inky cloak, streaked across the sky…’.
Meanwhile, the Hares worked their plan to perfection, with GM Oz ladling exotically fruitful sangria wine to all eager imbibers who lined up reverently to receive their bounty; Dirt Looney served up his rendered concoction (a blend of Fireball cinnamon hooch, Apple Brandy & lemonade) to the other half of the nearly 80-strong registered hashing souls in attendance. Dirt Looney’s serving method is Scottish, if I’m not mistaken, as he tended to pour every 5th or 10th of proffered shots burning, down into his own gullet; this, of course, knowingly brought out the best of Looney’s language, both in volume and lack of understanding of anyone trying to bother listening to his real broad Scots brogue. The 3rd hare, Sperm Polluter regaled the now newly assembled 2nd circle by exhibiting a ‘banana dildo blowjob display’ in conjunction with his wife Casper…
With sausages now digesting in contented bellies and all exotic libations consumed, the festivities further continued with a ‘Secret Santa’ giving of gifts from his oversized crimson sack.
Upon the GM’s command, all the female Hashers (and for no known reason, Cannon Ball as well!) dutifully cued up behind him to get and unwrap gifts galore…..it was soonest obvious that the theme of ‘Secret Santa’ was actually ‘Sleazebag Santa’, with all kinds of slutty presents (including sexual lubricant packets, butt plugs, dildos and the like), along with several bottles of ‘Honey Liquor’ that also reigned abundant in the weekly Raffle that keeps the PH3 in high cotton, moving forward.
Digressing a bit, Hash Crash recipients included Boring Wanker, Hot Hope and another as-of-yet Thai female unnamed Hasher…..GI Joe was then given the Circle, and he therefrom rattled Gangreen’s octogenarian cage, in accusing him of ‘pilfering beer’ from an undisclosed source, of course including other likewise-guilty beer hunters involved in the drunken mix…..dubious proof stands foremost and erect, though we Hashers, seldom, if ever, let the truth get in the way of a good story.
The 1st raffle winner was BB himself, who triumphantly marched away with a bottle of Gilbey’s gin. He promised to serve gin tonics galore, yet, knowing BB well enough through the years, we assume to receive ‘fuck all’, in the fullness of time….. French lass ‘Something Kinder’ won yet another bottle of the ubiquitous honey liquor that was flowing (as of yet unopened) freely amongst the 2nd Circle. ‘I’ve Got The Crabs’ won a tin of Danish biscuits and another visiting Aussie Hasher (who, oddly enough, has a Thai girlfriend from Surin, for whom this bloke is building her a home…..also in Surin! The Thai girls couldn’t get enough of the sex toy plethora, so they, having no other choice, took additional bottles of honey liquor; those sweet-toothed souls included Hoi Wan and another Thai female Hasher apparently named Ora…..
Emperor Airhead took the Circle to share his dependable magic, yet traditional roles were reversed when EA was iced by the GM/Hare for having access to and wearing sexy female knickers (on his face!) that happened to have a screen shot of the GM’s facial imprimatur on at least two pairs of slinky knickers, somehow in possession of Bullshitter and I’ve Got The Crabs….EA, always a quick thinker when having to do so on his feet, solved the riddle by promising to ensure that two of the hottest TQ girls would this same evening be garbed in those same skimpy knickers wrapped around their chins! EA truthfully stated that the entire scenario was just simply a ‘Wacky Gig’ that can transpire on Hash events in an ‘ad hoc’ manner and then migrated to the sensible side of Hashing, as he accoladed the veteran Hashers for procuring the appropriate and necessary use of the land, owned by Thai rum-guzzling community denizens, who live nearby.
With EA now on a roll, he brought ‘Ice Butt Bunny’, a Norwegian Hasher from 20+ years ago, into the Circle. IBB had disappeared long enough to have sired a son, now 21+ years young and still with no Hash name! After much discussion, the son, (real name being ‘Kim’) and who was also present in the Circle with his Dad, was not yet named, though he was verified that his Mother Hash (the PH3 Monday Hash) would be his home Hash, just as in the case of his father. The above scenario triggered EA’s memory of a long-bygone Hash event held in Norway, with the Kristiansand HHH group, in the country’s far southern region; he fondly described the event, the highlight being a ginormous lager-site barbeque at which ‘a half ton of freshly-caught shrimp and a full dump truck load of _____? (Shit? Beer?) were enjoyed.
EA invited in ‘Mark the truck driver’ from York, England, and it was soon established that ‘Anal Canal’ was a much more appropriate Hash name, as he also owns a pleasure craft which he motors through a nearby waterway, when not trucking about.
The GM/Hare Oz retook the 2nd Circle, stating that, for the record, the only German word in the entire English language is ‘Kindergarten’! Frenchman Eric was next; he happens to be a French Intelligence (is there such a thing? If so, what an oxymoron!) Officer; alas Frogsy (Dodgy)! Moron he now is!
Oz then threw all 7 Virgins on the ice and allowed them to acclimatize to this reality on the PH3; they sat, squirmed and suffered, while the GM awarded Slippery Frog Tongue with his 50 runs T-shirt. Na Hee Man was rudely interrupted from his scribe duties by the GM, who took enough umbrage at NHM’s lack of wearing an HHH T-shirt that he was summarily commanded to sit on the ice…..asked for an excuse for his sin, he explained that the sweat from his Hash T-shirt was drenching his scribe notes, rendering them quite indecipherable. This plausible answer was deemed unsatisfactory by the circle & GM, and landed NHM in the bucket, where he languished until the GM yanked him out, telling him how great of a guy he is!
The GM’s next victim was Boring Wanker, who speaks fluent Japanese; he was iced for bringing the mother of his former Japanese belle from Tokyo to the PH3 and accused of setting in place a ‘love triangle’, also involving his current Cambodian amour! All three of them sat on the ice, as BW explained that the ‘love triangle’ was but a ruse to allow his Cambodian '1st string ‘ lover to be usurped from that august position by his older Japanese guest.
Fattus Maximus, the Hare Raiser, in the Circle beseeched the assembled rabble to bear in mind that Hares are desperately needed, as early August (next week! ) 2026…..no Hares, no Hash!
A tad of anticipated normalcy reigned near the 2nd Circle’s end, as Hare Sperm Polluter led the hares in song, with a lewd version of ‘Jingle Bell Cock’…..). Had there been an Aussie hare, we may have been also regaled with stanzas from Kevin Bloody Wilson’s X-mas ditty, “Santa Claus, You Cunt…..Where’s Me Fuckin’ Bike?’
The Final Down Down & The Hash Hymn closed the lager site’s activities, and those Hashers still enough-energized retired to the On On On at Crackers, in the thick of Pattaya!
On On Na Hee Ma