DHAKA MIXED HASH – RUN NO 1440

29th November 2008

CAMEL JOCKEY’S 100TH HARE

 

A little way North-East of Ashulia

 

 

 

IF ANYONE OTHER THAN ROWDY, WHO HAS NOW FLED THE COUNTRY, HAS ANY PHOTOS OF THIS RUN PLEASE SEND THEM TO ME

 

TOWED

 

 

Hares:  Pole Vaulter, Camel Jockey, Deportee, Hash Who, Queen Who, Rahman & Masud

Hashers:  44

Virgins:  none

New Runners:  none

Leavers:  Deportee

Returnees:  Rahman, Hafiz

Notables:  French Knicqueurs – 50 Runs

 

 

The Run

The first thing that I can say with confidence is that there will be no photos of the run, the hash flash and her various stand ins having decided not to come to this FANTASTIC HASH.  The second thing I can say, with even greater confidence, is that the start was one of the biggest fuck-ups that it has been my pleasure to witness.  We had all duly foregathered at Big Italy as instructed, pretty much by the appointed time, but it was clear that there was a certain reluctance on the part of the Hares, of whom only three could be spotted, to get the show on the road.  Eventually someone persuaded Blow Job, the Vice GM, to get the show on the road.

The briefing was limited to “its on-convoy from here” and we all trouped downstairs.  However there was a distinct reluctance of the lead Hare, Deportee, to move on from here because, at least 15 minutes after the appointed meeting time there were still TWO FUCKING HARES MISSING – Hash Who and Queen Who seemed to have been unable to tell the time.  Notwithstanding this, the Hares were persuaded to lead on, so Deportee’s driver pulled out onto the main road and headed north.  For about 50 yards, then waited for the convoy to form up.  20 vehicles into 50 yards doesn’t go, especially when half of them are Chelsea Tractors.  Chief fuckwit, Deportee persuaded his driver to continue for a bit, but by this time a huge traffic jam had built up so we had to stop again to try to re-form the convoy, with Deportee now out of the car and running up and down the road, and his driver not knowing whether to wait or keep going.

It all sorted itself out in the end and we drove on up to the bazar, turned right and then stopped not far past the little bridge.  We chose to ignore the fact that the road was only one vehicle wide at this point and blocked it for a while during which time some vague run instructions were given by Hash Who, who had finally deigned to turn up.  Basically, it was “first paper is thataway”, pointing north, and off we went.

We were immediately onto some excellent running trails with either Jason or one of the Froggies leading the way.  Not surprisingly Pussy Pick Up passed me before the first check, which was by an asphalt road.  No sooner had the Hares said “check it out” than the cars, still with walkers on board, tried to run us all down as we tried to cross the road to check it out.  From here we meandered north a bit more, eventually finding the cars just parking up at the On-In site.  Cardinal Sin.  Hash rule number 368 clearly states that if you can see the beer, you’re allowed to head straight for it and the run is over.  For some strange reason, the pack decided to continue running and the beer was left behind for later.

So we just ran and ran – all the time on good trails through villages and bamboo, no streets or Mickey Mouse stuff, in a big anticlockwise loop.  All sorts of people were appearing as FRBs, although sometimes, like Homeless, too shocked at the occurrence to call paper.  Eventually it became clear that we were nearing the On-In.  Not because of our innate sense of direction but because cheating bastard Groper had logged a waypoint on his GPS as we passed the On-In first time around.

After a bit of a false start at the final check, when Pussy Pick Up sent Trek Or Treat and I checking in the wrong direction (we should have realised, since he was standing next to Groper) we all returned safely to the On-In, for the second week running well before the walkers turned up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Circle

Well, we waited around for long enough whilst the crowds gathered and the popcorn guy turned up, but still no sign of the walkers.  Meanwhile there was considerable debate about the origins of the RA’s headgear, clarified eventually by Rowdy who swore blind that the feathers closely resembled those of the first Emu that he’d ever mounted.  Eventually the walkers wandered in, although there was some debate as to where Blow Job had got to.  We eventually found her and got the circle called to order and the Hares, with a bit of a struggle, into the middle.  It turned out that Hash Who and Queen Who were too busy pouring piss for themselves to join in at first.

The run got a well deserved silence, as did the walk.  Don’t know why since it was certainly one of the best runs I’ve been on recently.  Then it was the turn of returnees Rahman and Hafiz.  Rahman had been to see Sidney, whoever he is, and Hafiz had been to Canadia.

Deportee was called in as the only leaver – he’s off to Connecticut, possibly for a long time.  At this point it was noticed that there was no Hash Flash, so Rowdy, being the only one with a camera, was duly designated.  God knows when the photos will reach me.

Notables were French Knicqueurs, who has done 50 runs, and the amazing Camel Jockey, who has now Hared a fantastic 100 times.  That’s Tk12,500 he’s saved in run fees plus, of course, a guaranteed free beer on each occasion (or, if you fuck up as often as he does, probably more than one beer!).  More of you should do it.

The GM then handed over to the Bozo look alike for the run discussion, none other than virgin (and I use the word inadvisedly) RA, Penis.  She had The Hat on and could feel the willy of Bozo coursing through her.  As a consequence her first sixteen words were “fuck”.  Anyway, once she got over all that the rotten bitch called me in to the circle to elaborate on the ostrich (which had happened earlier during the hat discussion – emu, ostrich, who cares other than Australians).

Next up were the Pussies.  Apparently Pickled Pussy had asked Pussy Pick Up what the grey tubey things were next to the RA’s hat.  “Darling,” he said, “they’re condoms”.  So they both had to put a condom on their arm to take their down-down.  (note to Bozo – we need bigger condoms for Pickled Pussy as she managed to push through the end and get it straight in her mouth, but the other one for PPU was ok as it was long enough to keep him stiff).

Hash Who and Hash Queen were duly castigated for not being able to tell the time before Steve (no hash name) was called in to demonstrate how he tripped and fell right in front of Penis.  Spread ‘Em was asked to join in as she had been the key actor in this little drama.  At the end of his acrobatic tumble he had apparently emerged upright and in the arms of his beloved (I reckon he’s one of those marital arts types).  Anyway, voicing her deep concern for the extent of his injuries, she greeted him with the words “Honey, you smell like shit”, which he apparently did.  Penis decided that she was going to go for broke in her first session as RA and called for nominations for a hash name.  Smells Like Shit was immediately called, along with Arse Over Tit.  Showing a true grasp of Bangladesh democratic principles, Penis then offered up only one choice for the vote.  Interjections from the Erection Commission in the form of Rowdy and Towed ensured that the second choice name was included in a deferred vote.  It didn’t really matter as the first choice of Smells Like Shit convincingly won the day.

Penis then called in Homeless.  It would appear that the name is justified as, when handed his run shirt at the start, Homeless simply put it on on top of his other clothes, which is what all homeless people do since they haven’t got wardrobes.  Homeless was made to wear the long pipe but such is his love of free beer that he managed to drink his down-down with barely a drop being spilled.

Continuing a long hash tradition established 15 minutes earlier, a second virgin RA was called in to discuss events on the walk.  None other than Pubic Hare!  Quite rightly he called in all the Hares for the total fuck-up at the start, who were given a rousing chorus of “why were they born so beautiful”.

Next in was Small Dick – I’m not sure what for – but he managed to do it prematurely.  Finally Sponge Bob Spare Pants and Mrs Spare Pants were called in as it was their 41st wedding anniversary.  Their intimate celebrations after their down-downs clearly flaunted Rule 31.

Once again, well done to the Hares for setting a fantastic run

On On

Towed