DHAKA MIXED HASH – RUN NO 1340			12^th May 2007
Location: School Beyond Little Italy
Hares: Bozo The Clown, Dame Swingin’ Tits, Tuneless Cow, Cloth Balls & Old Fart				Hashers: 48
Virgins: Ilarin Polo, Jimmy Zhang, Han Pang, Alex Lee, Arnold Goosse, Rachel Salvador		Returnees: Five-year Old Shit, Mike Cowell		(Habitual) Leavers: Beaufort, Dame Swingin’ Tits & Old Fart
Main pic – Beaufort & Webfart climb the mountain “Oh Shit, it’s a long way down”	The Run A multitude of Hares greeted us at Little Italy, the three in red being the running Hares and the grey two, the walkers Hares. Bozo gave a quick briefing and we set off on-convoy a little bit further on then off to the left for a couple of km to a school that most hashers seemed to have been at before. First tragedy was the multiracial puncture (explanations later, in the circle) which necessitated a quick rescue mission being launched before the run started. Most of this trash is going to be about the run, not because it was wonderful or anything – different, yes – but mainly because Warm and Fluffy took so many photos of it and so few of the circle that I’ve more idea what happened on the run. The direction of the first paper was eventually hinted at, and we should have taken this as a sign of things to come. Almost led by Cloth Balls, the pack soon found itself at the end of the first false trail, so back to the beginning and start all over again. Well all the pack, that is, except Pussy Picker who had set off to find the out trail, and his devotee, Gorf. This was, in fact, the only time PP found paper from a check during the whole run. Eventually someone found the out trail and we all headed off more or less in the same direction. The first couple of checks came and went pretty quickly with, I suspect, Gorf leading the way. Since the national team was playing India at Mirpur, the rest of the country seemed to think it had to play cricket as well. Sadly some members of the pack decided they should also play – pictured is Geli dropping a sitter off Bozo. There were numerous false trails, all dutifully followed by Cloth Balls trying to make it look as if they were real. Hashers do get a bit sceptical though, when the paper starts within 50 metres of the check. We ran through bamboo woods, villages, front gardens and climbed walls. The local kids had obviously enjoyed themselves as well, spreading the paper around a fair bit so the FRBs had to be called back on a number of occasions for missing checks. The climax of the run (yes, some of us enjoy it so much that we do) was the mountain – a massive climb that required a number of the pack to set up base camp halfway up, as they couldn’t do it in one hit, followed by a perilous ridge walk and a scree run down from the summit. The Hares advised afterwards that they’d been relieved the Army hadn’t been out in the butts (for all you Americans, I refer to shooting butts, not the usual Army pastime). The following check was a total contrast, next to a deep pit inches deep in disgusting grey/green water. It was also a walkers check, although the Hares seemed to be practicing some form of segregation as they had a separate check marked about 50 metres away. Whilst we waited Minty got some practice in for his night job and when the Hares called “check it out” me ‘n’ Andrew headed off in completely the wrong direction but soon realised when we hit the army check point. It was a prolonged meander back down a variety of lanes, with Cloth Balls unsure of where the checks were so calling “hold the check” from about a kilometre away from where it was. The big “B” told us we were nearly home after a gruelling 8km and 75 minutes.
Bozo, the Bat, Geli the Gloves
What goes up must come down
Minty gets Motoring
The poor tired Hares	The Circle In the absence of the Grand Mattress, Webfart, in his role as deputy GM took charge of the circle. Webfart was clearly hungry for pizza as he whizzed through his repertoire. Although the picture shows the Hares having the time for a quick kip (the poor front running Hare was so tired after he had to catch up from the back at every check). Sadly there wasn’t time for the accolades that the run deserved. The virgins were dealt with so quickly that Hash Flash didn’t have the time to even take a picture, let alone for the Virgins to introduce themselves and tell us where they were from. All we know is that no-one told them they needed cash to get a beer. Returnees Mike and Five-Year-Old Shit, presumably from some sex tourism hotspot, were welcomed back from wherever they’d been. A little more time was allowed for Leaver Beaufort, off back to the Philippines until he’s next called up. The next leavers were also given a little more time – allegedly leaving possibly-for-a-long-time-or-not-coming-back-at-all – i.e. they’ll be back after the monsoon – were DST and Old Fart. Off back to Yorkshire, that hotbed of sin and depravity (and decent beer). Webfart closed with certification of Shit Up To Here for a stalwart 50 runs and handed on to the somewhat more prolix Bozo. First victim was Pussy Picker for complaining about the laying of the trail. Gorf also nominated himself for a free beer for having accompanied Pussy Picker on most of his fruitless forays. Further down-downs were awarded to: · Beaufort, for having a luxurious white Chelsea tractor (that Bozo hopes to inherit) · Trek or Treat, who treated us all to a rendition of “a hundred miles of hard on” accompanying himself ably on air guitar · Donegon was called in for something but had already left · Returnee Mike, who looked like he’d been on a sex tour to Mecca · The RA then demanded explanations of the multiracial traffic incident on the way to the Hash – how many Mongolians, Balinese, Italians and Bangladeshis does it take to change a flat tyre? Answer: one, as the Bangladeshi was the only one who had a clue! And finally, the second christening in two weeks. Liz, the delightful victim of Beaufort’s gentlemanly behaviour two weeks ago was called in for a naming ceremony. Suggestions from Bozo of Smelly Toes or Sticky Toes were soon superseded by Pull It Out, Stick it In–Pull It Out and Foot Loose. The shortlisting process brought it down to the only two conforming bids of Pull It Out and Foot Loose, with Pull It Out winning by dint of the usual rigged vote. Whilst the sad bastards returned to the delights of Dhaka, a select group bestowed their favours and some riotous songs on the incumbents of Little Italy where, fortunately or perhaps because of us, there were no other customers. Highlight had to be Webfart’s rendition of that South Pacific classic, “mee no likee Blitish Sailor”. Thanks to the Hares for a fascinating run – the bastards were almost too clever by half. But last week we got tee shirts – this week we didn’t even get cake! On On, Towed
Leavers, maybe for a while, sex touring to Yorkshire??!
Shit Up To Here’s done it 50 times
Pull It Out suffers a Bozo baptism