G’Day,

The banter began on the bus journey with Woofter taking most of the heat for not knowing the meaning of ‘Morning Glory’. Good To The Last Drop had just mentioned this was her favourite Hash name in waiting. Woofter, thinking he was having a private conversation with her, made the mistake of questioning its derivation. Bush Wallaby and El Flatulante were merciless in their derision. In a way, it was a back handed compliment, suggesting GM should be all knowing. As an ex-military man, and for the record, he knows this phenomenon as ‘Dawn Horn’. Little wonder he was unable to link it to a pansy, long stemmed, limp wristed water weed. Suitably chastised, Woofter got on with his real job of trialling the new plastic stools. They buckle under fairly light loads so double up. The new Eskies worked well though and the plastic stools made great table legs for Hash Haberdasher’s display.

Before the run started, Mzzzzzzz Danielle and Ms Ngoc were introduced as needing Hash names. The Hares then went through the usual litany of lies with what looked suspiciously like a Volcano lurking in the background. The first part of the run was down a busy, muddy and dusty track. Well done to the Hares for arranging all three hazards at once. We then cut off right into manioc and young tree plantations. As a rule, we don’t like to run over cultivated land. This would be brought up later during the Run Report. Mad Cow, a running Hare, thinking she was on a huge short-cut, led the runners down a track only to change her mind once she realised the other Hares were on the short cut. The next check led into another check before the obligatory 3 blobs had been found. Confusion reigned. A situation not helped by the dearth of paper on the trail. We try for a low carbon foot print but this was ridiculous. Knob Doctor took a tumble just before the Hash Halt, much to the amusement of Aushole, our regular tumbling act. The second half was longer and seemed to focus more on the wooded sections. Mzzzzzzz Danielle and Jack Off were fallers in what can only be described as suspicious circumstances. After a 10 Km run, interspersed with occasional sprinkles of paper, the weary Hounds returned to the bus where they were refreshed with cold beer, softies and great baguette sandwiches made by Friendly Bank.

The ad hoc naming committee of Woofter, El Flatulante, AIT and anyone within earshot set about choosing a couple of names. T-Shirts, designed by Mighty Quinn and funded generously by Paddy Fag, were handed out to celebrate Paddy Fag’s 50th birthday. At this rate, we will all need a special Hash T-Shirt drawer. Paddy Fag, the new Hash Religious Adviser (RA), then introduced the Virgins and Returnees. This is the fourth time Paddy Fag has assumed the important office of RA and expectations were high. I am sure he will be on top of his game next week. The Running Hares were charged with trampling crops, laying insufficient paper and blatant short cutting. The ice beckoned and they duly parked their bottoms. The walking Hares were praised by Pencil Dick who seemed to have been the only walker to have completed both sections of the walk. Paddy Fag was given a cup-cake with 5 lit candles which he just managed to extinguish. A belated Happy 50th Birthday, Paddy Fag.

Mzzzzzzz Danielle and Ms Ngoc were parked on the ice while the assembled Hounds debated their Hash names. Aushole launched into an interesting and somewhat long winded speech that managed to link the Australian Labour Party, Tasmania, a 6 fingered hand and a Hash name all in one story. His suggestion certainly extended their time on the ice but scored ‘Nil Points’ when put to the Circle. Having 3 pussies and no job seemed to grab the attention of most and Mzzzzzzz Danielle was duly named Stray Pussy. Ms Ngoc, who sells fashion accessories and belts, was quickly named Strap On. We had two achievers: Doggy Style for completing 100 runs and Richard The Turd for managing 25 runs. Well done to both of you.

GM then charged the Euro Trash for neutering the the once magnificent Royal Navy (RN). The RN can no longer return captured pirates to their own countries because they have 'Human Rights' even if their victims don’t. If the pirates face beheading or limb lopping in their own country, they must be kept on board and brought back to Britain where they will get free everything. You can’t make it up! Paddy Fag charged the Pope and the Americans for being two-faced. When was the last time we had the Pope on a charge? Deaf Teapot and Mighty Quinn were brought up by Woofter for failing to take seriously the MMC’s new ideas for improving the role of the Walking Hares. Mighty Quinn had suggested Walking Hares wear a bright baseball cap. When she said bright she meant BRIGHT! Everyone reached for their sunglasses when she revealed a red and yellow item that could only have been modelled on the cartoon character, Woody Woodpecker. Deaf Tea Pot was charged with failing to bring the promised sock sniffing tracker dog with a collar mounted blue flashing lamp. When asked why his dog was not the usual crutch sniffing variety, he had no answer. Hmmmm!! El Flatulante, so named for his lack of retention then demonstrated it was not only his nether regions that had a problem. His mental retention seems to be on a par with an E’d up newt. He accused Woofter of failing to get the stats right on the Can Tho run reports when everyone who doesn’t live eat and sleep 40 foot containers knows that task belongs in Pencil Dick’s bailiwick. Despite the blatant false charge, all 3 had a drink. We would have moved onto the announcements had Nutsucker not braved the waning enthusiasm of the Circle by accusing Mad Cow of some obscure sin which has managed to escape the memory of both the Hash Scribe and Hash Stats [Alcohol and old age will do that to you - Ed.].

The announcements consisted of a stirring appeal by Doggy Style for support for next week’s Anzac Run. Pencil Dick started to explain the new Saigon Hash ‘Chat Room’ but it all got too hard, just like the site. So, it was back on the bus and On On to the Garden Barbecue restaurant in Le Thanh Ton.

That’s it,

Woofter