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Run 1587 THE ROPES 50^TH BIRTHDAY RUN - Saga Restaurant, jl.Alternatif

 Statistics: 24 members 1 s, 1 q and 2 nm and vs. Total 28

 This was one of the most eagerly awaited runs for some time. Three outstanding hashers and run-setters, the Rope, Coombzee and Vatican Rag, were collaborating to set a trail in what was potentially great running country. We all looked forward to seeing the Buddhist Temple again, crossing that awesome iron bridge and generally some great countryside.

 Strangely though after such expectations the pack was subdued, at the start, as we were forced to trudge up Jl. Alternatif, in the slipstream of smoke belching trucks. Perhaps we had expected too much! [somewhat similar to those times when you go to bed with your best friend’s wife–its never turns out quite as good as you anticipated].

 From early on, and then for most of the run, I was stuck with Stretch, his erudite comments on the state democracy in Indonesia were stimulating [zzzzz !!!]. Yoshie always seemed to be in front of us and continued to cut-us-off-at-the-pass, but we eventually lost him when two fuller chested young ladies distracted him.

 Annoying, yet interesting, little VR type loops, which never quite made a figure of eight, characterized the first 20 minutes of the run, among the kampung. In fact after ten minutes we were still in sight of the Saga restaurant. For faster people it did not allow us to get out of second gear, but it did give some of the more senior hashers, such as Col. Bloodbath, the opportunity to put in a good performance. Eventually we emerged into open ground, where various groups seemed to be bounding off in different directions. Tarzan was seen purposefully running off paper, the lonely figure of BB was striding to the right, power walkers were strolling aimlessly and Jungle Fucker appeared to be photographing himself. On-on was eventually called and we all redirected, for a lefty.

 We made a perilous crossing of the big river, where a very nice family was out doing their evening ablutions. As usual Tom Jones did not ‘Boldly-go’. The father of the family smiled, but asked ‘how would I like it if his family walked through my bathroom while I was having a dump.’ For those, who new the area the run-in was then predictable, but pleasantly cooling amongst the leafy glades which sheltered us from the steamy heat and away from the setting sun.

 At the end everyone seemed to be in good spirits and they all claimed to have been on paper all of the time. Most hashers were in between 5.55 to 6.05. We never saw the temple or the bridge!

 As there are so few people left the scribes have decided not to piss anyone else off, by saying anything derogatory [or true] about those who do remain. Xenophobic remarks are out, as are those dealing with secretaries, overbearing and egotistical former hash masters, the second world war, crop bashing, young boys and cross-dressing. Notably there will be more sympathy given to hashers with bowel and/or urinary tract disorders.

 The circle started promptly at 6.34pm. I avoided standing by Stretch. Announcements were forgettable, except for the one concerning the committee meeting, which is to be held in Jakarta sometime next week. The run discussion was riveting, Pretty Boy couldn’t remember, Hardcase had a bad back [NB. No reference to bowel], Yoshie said velly-glood-lun, Simply Fred complained, Concorde asked if it was the run discussion; Sloppy Dick concurred; Col. Bloodbreath stated that it wasn’t as good as the Welsh run in the same area [which was a Shit of a Run], and fxxx knows what Botaksan said. It was without doubt a good run?

 Lots of the real big noises from the committee were missing: big noses were in abundance and prominent among them was Concorde, who had just arrived back from a caravaning holiday in Greenland, he was hyper active as RA: the new hash master, Sheep Skin, continued to rise to the task and asserted himself [so my driver informs me]: Tarzan, subdued, left early and was missed: Leeky Dick suspiciously left soon after: BB turned up, was quiet and thankfully did not attempt to tell a joke: Tom Jones deputized as JHM, but from the look on his face he had earlier received some devastatingly bad news: Witless Wanker was still in the UK, still no doubt recalling his exploits in the tropics to unsuspecting punters down the local pub: VR admitted that he had watched the royal wedding for two hours over the weekend - wanker: the Yellow peril were low in numbers and subdued, although they did sing some song which apparently concerned the relative merits of the spitfire and zero fighters: Konkrete Koch was absent with another dose of PHMS [post hash master syndrome] and is understood to be at home, lying on his Gucci sofa, endlessly watching videos of his term in office: Jonesie’s boyish exuberance for the job of hash trash resulted in the promise of a possible sale of one T shirt next week, perhaps: a newcomer from Taipei, Andrew Wilson, spent some time on ice for opening his mouth and suggesting that ours is not a singing hash: DD’s for the over 50s club promoted someone to carry out a short research program, on the night, and to come up with the conclusion that 100% of hashers under 40 are hairless or are approaching hairlessness: the lack of Serbian runners meant that the Scots were once again endlessly abused.

 The choral part of the evening was orchestrated by Crusty Nuts, who initially led us in a ditty to the tune of ‘Molly Malone’. Dinah-Dinah was well received, even if there were unfortunate slurs again the Welsh and [much maligned] Scots, ‘Balls to Your Partner’ was sung with unusual gusto; ‘Bestiality-z-Best Boys,’ stirred the imagination with verses which included, ‘Suck the Snot of Scot’, Stick your Knob in Wog’, ‘Fxxx the Turd of a Serb’, and ‘Shuv the Rope up The Pope.’

Talking about the Rope, it was time for the hares to sing. Firstly there was an oldie, ‘Bloody Jakarta’, and surely this rehash could not have, in any way, equaled the original. Our own Three Buddhas, [Rope, VR and Coombzee] then attempted to sing a song with three different tunes [or half a tune and two out of tune], to some shit about the healthy pursuit of hashing. Why they looked so pleased with themselves after finishing, I will never understand. [No need to loose any sleep over this lot Luciano!].

 Proceedings drifted on until Hardcase, who was standing alongside me, swallowed an animal that happened to be flying past. Over the next ten minutes his attempts to regurgitate the poor creature were decidedly unpleasant. Eventually the animal was evacuated [at speed], hanging on to something that looked like stomach lining [or carrot]; it narrowly avoided decapitating the bemused parrot in the cage behind us. [Thanks Dave!]. Whether he succeeded in his sporadic attempts to disgorge the odd leg [flying animal] that had got entangled in his [Dave] epiglottis was not revealed.

 During the latter episode I lost my appetite and decided not to stay for the on-on, although the hares were paying and so a sizable crowd remained.

 There were no achievements. Yours truly was given [again] the much sort after Prick of the Week Award, for asking who was Prick of the Week. Coombzee and the Udo the Kraut survived another week without being awarded hash names.

 Committee meeting Tuesday, 29^th June, 6.30pm Para Para Restaurant, Kemang. Points for discussion will include Y2K, the new manual ‘Hashing for the over 50s’, ISO 9000 certification etc.

Back to the bonsai [E.M.].

 PS. You will note how our esteemed HM and Bullshit have stood in the breach while the advertised hares have disappeared. That’s what being HM is all about! [wanker].

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