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Run 1594. 9 August, Hambalan hill Hares: Superbrat (45), Angie(45), Magic Dragon(>45)

Stats: : Members 32, plus 9 visitors/new/past it members, = Total 41.

Looking desperately for a theme for their birthday, the hares found they shared the occasion with the first ever beauty contest, 91 years ago. Where do they dig up this crap? Beauty contests happened long before Henry 8 decided Anne Boleyn’s head looked kind of cute on the gatepost. So why didn’t they pick something more hashlike, such as the Great Train Robbery 36 year’s ago, surpassed only by the Great Bali Bank Robbery organised by Hash Cash. Or that other famous, "What the fuck was that," in Nagasaki 54 years ago. It was actually the birthday of that famous non-hasher, Isaac Walton. He didn’t drink Anker either, nor unlike the hares was he a complete arsehole, merely a Complet Angler. In his honour several hashers went fishing in the Klub later on, and though we won’t reveal what they caught, there was certainly 145 year old talent present, many of whom seemed to look just like the creature (with 6 tits) barking in my yard. No, Yard Dog was not there, though a certain hasher who had previously been passed 40 times on the run may have ended up with fishy fingers.

Have you ever visited any of those ghost towns in the far West. Well Hambalan doesn’t have any tumbleweed, but the ryaps are having a great picnic and had munched away a least one roof’s support. There must be bargains to be had there. Which reminds me, that well known IFA (a nearly extinct species) sponsored the T-shirts from ill gotten gains ripping off poor Aussie investors who haven’t yet discovered day trading on the Internet. He turned up in a luminous green shirt (from his office on Kuta beach no doubt). So I can now reveal the secret of successful shortcutting at Hambalan. Don’t take an IFA’s advice, and certainly don’t follow him forever up the hill. Remember the stock market, what goes up, invariably comes down again. Several other hashers did not follow this maxim and went up, up, up like a load of bulls and some even wandered over the hill and wondered why the way in wasn’t on the other side.

The hares laid a simple leftie with wide ranging loops that had whingers muttering about trails too close together, whilst others blissfully cut from one loop to another, completely unaware they had ever left paper. And from all directions, hashers called On-On, all convinced that they were on the real paper (and they were). But despite people coming in from entirely the wrong direction (including the infamous IFA) no-one actually appeared to get lost, or come in late and most did a reasonable facsimile of the intended run in 50-65 minutes.

Having welcomed visitors, newcomers and all that stuff, Sheepskin put Hash Cashes on ice for not sharing the profits with him, nor agreeing on who the returners might be. Some returners did confess and had a dd. We were honoured with the presence of a truly past-it member, Rab Eye, plus a visiting GM from TGIF (Sore Rail) who exhorted us to join his family run at Anyer at the end of August. Isn’t it about time we acknowledged Sore Rail as a real JH3 member so he can really enjoy a drink on his own.

Sheepskin warned us of the perils of Pan Indo, having been suckered along by Tarzan’s rosy pronouncements. Reality consisted of 2700 hashers, all crammed onto a single trail. Fortunately, perhaps, there were no checks. Neither was there food except for the first 1000 to run to the food instead of the trail. And those who took the hard run (not Sheepskin we might add) returned after 3+ hours to find not only no food, but that the beer truck had gone, and soft drinks and water also packed up. And does someone seriously think of bringing this circus to Jakarta next year. No way.

Views on the run were mostly complimentary, expect Yard Dog, who complained that Jonesy led him astray to see the view. Tommy What said he’d had a good view of Jonesy too. Vatican Rag, of passing fame, found it mediocre, whilst Colonel Bloodknott couldn’t understand why it couldn’t keep going up. Go Blok M snuck in through the back, but explained that he prefers to do it that way. Meanwhile, the hash dormouse, Yoshi, was awakened from dreams of an ever rising dick or sun or something, to tell us of his expedition complete with GPS and torch, none of which was required before the on-on.

The Welsh Windbag unfortunately had found his old songbook in some dark recess and led off with a real golden oldie. Later there was an improvement with "Too much wanking," which clearly the blind buggers in the circle could relate too, though singing degenerated again with the even older, "if I give you 2/6," and later "an English cnut in my garden." You’d understand this if you’d ever worked in Norway. I had several Cnuts working for me there.

Instead of which the RA introduced us to the German butcher. I’m not sure of the significance of this, but apparently his meat is kosher. Bio explained that you can easily get 60 Jews in a VW by using the ashtray. The RA then tried to pick on that well known Aussie brain surgeon, Sheepskin, but there was no one at home. The jokesters were also there. .Make up the first bit.. but the punch line, if you remember it first... "Any arsehole can sing like a country and west singer," ....."That sheep’s a bloody liar,"..."How do expect a one legged guy to catch a kangaroo." If you haven’t heard them before, I’ll post the details, in a plain brown paper envelope...

The hares, dressed quite normally for them, tried to hold their beauty contest. There’s no doubt whatsoever that Superbrat looks far sexier than any of the girls in the Klub. They appeared to mime whilst Col.B sang around them, "...and especially they liked our cunts." However, they eventually displayed their individual talents, as well as their knickers and knockers. "My name is "Annie (Princess)." If it talks like a horse, looks like a horse, smells like a horse, then it probably is part of the (English, Scottish, Welsh and Australian) Royal family. "My name is Mai (as in West)," The scribe disagrees, "... is Mai, twas on the pussy hash, got lost again whilst checking, Dave thinks that caused the rash." Sorry Peter, who were you? But don’t all those blondes look the same.

Not only were 2 of the hares going senile, but they were underachievers too. Superbrat got his 359 run shirt AND PROMISED TO SING HIS SONG NEXT TIME. Angie received his 450 shirt, and reminded us of the Black Bush, one of the few tunes he can almost hold. Well done guys. Magic Dragon had missed a few funs along the way, so is not quite an achiever, 794 runs only.

The circle finished at 8.32 and JH3 had large turnout for the on-on since the food was at the adjacent restaurant. That’s the way to do it. Thanks for the shirts FINEXCO.

WW 11/8/99

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