DHAKA MIXED HASH – RUN NO 1345			16^th June 2007
Location: ISD Bashundara
Hares: Rail Jerker, Camel Jockey, Deporteee & No Balls				Hashers: 46
Virgins: Rande, Ole, Liss, Charlene				New Runner: Jerrycan
Leavers: Five Year Old Shit, Shit Up To Here, Steve, Monique, Bozo the Clown		Returnees: Towed, Boring, Bjorn Again, Pubic Hare, Monique
Main Photo – Rising Damp Geli points the way	The Run Five o’clock came and went with the only thing happening being cries for cash from Syphie. Eventually the RA arrived and sorted out someone to take control. Sadly this was Geli so, following the briefing, he set off in completely the wrong direction, taking most of the pack with him. This was a kind of rectangular run, most checks being one or two blocks diagonally removed from the last one, offering the opportunity to those who checked in the wrong direction of an easy shortcut if they had the confidence. As far as I can estimate the trail took us generally in a north-east direction. FRBs were heading in all directions only to be called back and find they could have simply turned left or right and found the next check. As the run progressed less and less notice was taken of the Hares and more and more of Tall Man who seemed to have sussed out what was happening before most others. The result was that we ran between some checks with hardly any sight of the paper. We gradually emerged from the urban sprawl into more open country. Roads became tracks and tall grass replaced housing. Until, that is, we came to the barren wasteland of more recent reclamation, carefully marked out with all the MP’s plots by little brick piles. However, this was something of a red herring as the area ran between two large areas of water with no apparent escape other than continuing east for miles. The pack scattered in all directions in the search for paper, Tall Man again out front telling others where it was (they were shell fragments, you bastard, and it took me ages to catch up again). Warm and Fluffy, I think, eventually found the way back onto the road. By this time, we could see a collection of cars well away to the east and with some trepidation set off on paper again. The penultimate check was by one of the lakes with no apparent way across to the cars. However it was with relief that another batch of cars were spotted off to the west that had been hidden from view by the grass. Sure enough it was the hash chariots and beer and Geli led the way back along a nice little winding trail, pausing brifly at the final check which was only about 150 metres from the On-In.
The only hash dog I’ve seen to date. No comment on that tongue, please girls!
A bunch of Walkers
So who’s that in front of Bozo (answers given below)
The disappearing Noggie virgins and a stand in beer-maid	The Circle Stand in GM Geli called the circle to order before anyone even had the chance to open a beer. First in were, as usual, the Hares but since I was up at my car getting my hands on a beer, I haven’t a clue as to whether there was praise or derision heaped on them. Next in were the virgins, seemingly all Norwegian, who had the rules explained to them as usual but something must have been lost in translation of Geli’s “ … and once we stop singing you tip what’s left on your head then f**k off out of here.” . Geli was almost mown down by the big shiny Landcruiser roaring across the circle before he had a chance to invite New Runner Jerrycan in. Jerrycan is here to ensure that the British taxpayer’s money is being securely spent in Bangladesh. Thank heavens I don’t pay any! Oh, Shoban(?) and her nice little doggie were the only virgins polite enough to stay on. Other down-downs were awarded by the GM as follows: Returnees Boring, Bjorn Again, Pubic Hare, Monique and Towed. Not sure where everyone else had been – presumably Norway for the first two, I’d been in Scotland, Pubic Hare had been all the way to Sylhet and nobody asked Monique. Leavers Five Year Old Shit, Shit Up to Here, Steve, Bozo and Monique. All going to be sex tourists somewhere – Jakarta, Las Vegas, Europe and the UK were the various destinations. The youthful 48 year old, Most Obscene. Bozo was then courteously invited to take over the circle and proceeded to do so with his usual style, sophistication and subtlety. Since he’d been leaning against it for the first part of the proceedings, it occurred to him to ask who the hell had come in the expensive-looking big yellow taxi. Jerrycan, obviously having to pay for his beer, was keen to confess. Jerrycan, incidentally, hails from the Cheltenham and Cotswolds Hash in UK. Cheltenham is known for its ladies college, racecourse and building society. The Cotswolds are cute – the sort of place you would expect people called Warm and Fluffy to inhabit. It is all down south, and therefore irrelevant. Remembering the early departure of the Noggie virgins, Bozo then called on their countrymen to make a public apology and have a free drink. There was an ugly rush of Scandahoolies to support Foxy Runner with demands for free beer. Others to receive the RA’s blessing were: Goose Bumpy, for following the example of most of her pupils by going in for body piercing Two offendees for wearing men’s hash T-shirts. The shirts were treated with the customary respect but Middle Stump, appalled at the wastage, felt duty bound to protect the shirts from such abuse by inserting his mouth between the glass and the floor Motolola for tiptoeing around puddles (you’ll note from the photos, of course, that Bozo just ploughs through puddles) Flasher for noisy running New shoes for a Scandy who should have known better Bozo then started waxing lyrical about the good old days when there was a Hashit involving 40 gallon drums of ice cold pig swill being emptied on your head, when men were men, and the RA was a mad bitch woman who awarded him the Hashit on his first run. In the modern era, such initiation ceremonies would warrant legal action for bullying, victimisation and bad taste. However, not being one to hold a grudge, Bozo invited the returning ex RA into the circle for a small ceremony in remembrance of those good old days. 40 gallon drums could not be found so a rather sad three cups of iced water were emptied down her back. Exhausted by this emotional high, Bozo then handed proceedings back to the tender care of Geli, who proceeded to waste the remaining beers on the RA and Trash Flash. Just remember there’s a thirsty scribe next time! The circle drew to a close with a few announcements as usual, none of which I can remember. The timing proved immaculate as the first few drops of rain started to fall as I reached the car and by the time we were moving it was torrential. Who says the RA has no influence. Thanks to the Hares for a good run On On Towed
Birthday boy, Most Obscene
Someone happy to have a third nostril
The Scots are not tight, just piss-heads
Scandahoolies know how to drink out of shoes
Revenge on Bum Deal, the “bitch woman”
For those not familiar with the president-elect of the World Bank, he runs with us!