[Previous report][Next report] Run No. 658 on Saturday, 4 October 2003 A Daft Deaf Wet Hare Run

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The run began a little late.

This time, however, Trouser Snake didn't have the opportunity to take 'Hash 1' on an 85Km scenic detour. He had been well interrogated by Wet Rag, who had insisted that he should not travel on Hash 1 and that in any event the GPS coordinates for the start be indelibly etched on the Snake. Twice, so as not to leave anything to chance!

The hares, a handsome bunch of front running bastards (especially Deaf Teapot) were waiting as the hounds emerged from Hash 1. The rain was pouring. Beautiful cool.

The usual batch of Harriet 'soil soilers' scurried off into the bushes immediately on arrival, but not discreetly enough to avoid the watching eyes of the committee, nice arse! Names where noted for later ridicule and punishment, if the run was finished before midnight. In the event it was not and the pissing Harriets where forgotten in the drunken exuberance of the circle.

Given the late start the pack where hurriedly brought to order by Tonto with a clear and imperative “Listen Up”. Whereupon instant obedience descended upon the yakking, babbling, chaotic mass as it came instantly to order. Dream on…….

The rain came down. We missed the droll “Listn Up, Gatherrrr Rownd, form a semI curcel” of that most ancient of front running bastards. The T.

'Hares to the front and take it away'. The hares, lead by the handsomest front running bastard of the gaggle (in fact the only handsome Hare), Deaf Teapot, explained the forthcoming event and Tonto reiterated once more and added the trail rules, for the dumb fuckers who didn't understand the first time and because he just can't resist an audience.

There was still some confusion, which is how things should be, so with that the Hash Horn resounded, the local hillbillies gawked and the pack where away. On On.

After a brief period of wonderful confusion the pack ascended, the Hash Horn leading the hounds onward and upward through the super shiggie1 towards the summit high above them.

Nut Sucker and Duffer (AKA Mr Infinity; number of runs divided by number of sets) made it to the top without a bee sting and amidst the cries of “on on”, “looking”, “ouch”, “are we on….”, “shit” and “on back”, the summit was reached. A local bull seemed to be an accomplished Hasher and took a liking to Pippy Long Stockings so joined the throng. Fun was had on the mountain top, the bull looked happy.

The Hash Horn sounded the call once more and in a state of reverie, the pack descended. Down, down and down thundering through the bush, shiggie abundant and precision laid. The skill of the Hares guided the pack towards the setting sun and down into the valley below. “And the Hares………”.

The Hash Horn sounded the call louder than ever and stood by as the back pack strolled leisurely on to check. The usual front running bastard hounds sped off at speed in all directions in search of 'the glorious three'.

Porn Surfer was recovering from a late night surfing session and Gobbler was just shagged so these two, the Virgins and the usual back trailing bastards hung around looking gormless as the T Pot guided them masterfully through the short cut made by the front running bastards. Woofta (who was on fine form).

The back pack struggled onward up the hill and down into the valley. The T Pot, having spent the entire morning setting the bastard run in 40 degree heat and blazing sun………., was eager to join the front running bastards. But, struggling with the fundamental dichotomy of being both the sweeper hare AND the Hash Horn and also cognisant of his responsibilities to lead the waning few he sacrificed himself and lead from the rear. Valiantly.

The valley was long. Very very long.

The FRB's sped away, lead by Woofta. Paddy fag, recently promoted and plumped up with pheromones, was on form. He managed to skip gracefully ( a site indeed) across the swamp before ascending the second great peak hot on Wooftas heels, a foolhardy and dangerous pursuit. Over the hill and into the forest the pack where On On at breakneck speed.

Remembering the events of recent hash water stop history in the area and the fact that Wet Rags truck was again involved the T Pot forfeited the last few hundred metres and headed off in search of the water truck; a first leg at such a pace with no grog would not be a good thing, especially for the hares.

The T Pot struggled over the high peaks to carve a path through dense forest, swamp and acacia and managed to get to the waterstop. As so skilfully anticipated by the Pot there was no water truck. Tireless and vigilant as ever the Pot sped off towards the start in search. Alas, no truck to be found but as we would later learn, “il était là toute l'heure” (it was there all the time…..). Hiding somewhere we guess ??

Earlier that day the renowned Trouser Snake and the fine-looking Deaf T Pot had intended to set a second leg that would be the stuff of legend. Alas the heavens had other plans for the dynamic duo for the rains came and came and came. And the car got stuck. Bigtime.

No time to set, but a fun time wallowing in the mud…….

No matter though, for the dynamic duo had pre-empted this possibility and had laid detailed plans for its solution. Advanced satellite technology was to be the answer. Unfortunately, however, NASA hadn't figured on Paddy Fag when they launched GPS.

Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink....No matter, the Iron Men where up for an ad-hoc Paddy Fag guided second leg. The strange thing was most of them had known Paddy Fag for some time ?

The Deaf T Pot had severe reservations and gave the pack the choice; a 2Km sprint-in or a meander in the woods with a bionically re-equipped Paddy Fag. There are wise men and there are fools, the fools hold the majority. Eighty percent of the pack elected for the woods.

Had Darwin been a hasher he may have re-written his theory of natural selection at this point because the mentally fit chose one route and the physically fit, but dumb, chose another. What would be nature's response?

Well, as it turned out the Hash on that day proved conclusively that Darwin was in fact correct because the smart hounds got to drink lots more beer whisl they awaited the arrival of the dumb fucks.

No walkers in sight, how could there be it was dark……. Starless and bible black in fact. The trail clogging lazy arse bastards finally arrived at six thirty.

Being a wise and old (though handsome) hare, with sense enough to head directly for the beer rather than follow Paddy Fag, by the time the DD's got underway your narrator was so far gone that who said what to whom all became rather fuzzy and warm. From this merry haze the following can be recalled;-

Tonto did the GM thing and was strangely coherent, given the length of the run and having participated in Paddy Fags little adventure with technology.

The Hares were more than adequately rewarded for their hard efforts.

There where a lot of French people who where made to drink, for reasons which have now become a little blurry; but they where not the usual 'because they are French' clichés.

The Puddings were frantic and accused Wet Rag of child torture for making the brats walk for 3 hours. IN THE RAIN !! No smiling there.

It emerged that Mrs Pudding has serious hots for Dentists and IN THE CIRCLE attempted to arrange a clandestine liaison with one of those French guys I mentioned earlier. Turns out he was a dentist. Yuk.

At one point the phrase 'deceptively fit' was applied to Wet Rag by a Harriet with a twinkle in her eyes when she said it. Check it out Wet Rag , she's clean.

Gobbler was pretty sozzled by the end of the ceremony and kept gazing skywards. At one point I thought she'd seen a UFO or had a vision. Divine.

Pippy Long Stockings and the Good Time Girl look alike (rearwards) had apparently been well serviced throughout the week and drank a beer or two in gratitude.

Deaf T pot received the WOTW crown for setting such an incredibly good run and being the most handsome fellow on the hash. I think that was the charge and was certainly well deserved.

One glaring omission was the fact that the return of Hash Superman, False Alarm, was not heralded. Next week !

There where various awards of those tatty T shirts where the logos peel off after a couple of washes.

Nobody remembered to turn on the "It's a long ride go pee pee NOW" tape so god knows what happened on the bus ride home !

The On On was at La Villa, that chic up market little French bistro renowned for its nuevo cuisine. The attendance, I suspect, was poor.

On on!
Deaf Teapot

29 Hounds and 9 Virgins vs.
Deaf Teapot, False Alarm, Trouser Snake and Wet Rag
(Total attendance: 42 Hashers)

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Runner	Runs	Haresets	Note
Deaf Teapot	186	13	Hare
Friendly Bank	180	6
False Alarm	160	34	Hare
Paddle File	144	8
Wet Rag	142	25	Hare
Olive Oyl	132	9
Hand Job	128	11
Deadly Night Shade	127	12
Postage Stamp	120	16
Chorizo	114	27
Gobbler	111	27
Porn Surfer	106	4
EZ Wipe	96	6
Paddy Fag	80	21
Cesspool	74	11
Tonto	69	15
Platapussy	68	3
Towellette	64	5
Black Pudding	57	3
Pudding Head	54	2
Rice Pudding	53	2
Duffer	53	1
Trouser Snake	25	6	Hare
Good Time Girl	22	3
Super Slag	17	3
Pippi Longstockings	15	2
Runny Yolk	11	0
Lick It Clean	7	0
Woofter	6	0
Montaban,Chad	4	0
Nutcracker	3	0
Eggs Bin Dicked (Shanghai H3)	2	0
Kassell,Mike (Steel Ball)	2	0
Boucher,Laurent	1	0	Virgin
Chartron,Brant(?)	1	0	Virgin
Claer,Damian (?)	1	0	Virgin
Jenny the Pig	1	0	Virgin
Keat	1	0	Virgin
Santos,Lydia	1	0	Virgin
Schiffman,Marc	1	0	Virgin
Schiffman,Sarah	1	0	Virgin
Vitally	1	0	Virgin