HASHSHIT HOLDERS Yoshi, KK and Botaksan

This run was brilliantly planned, according to the hares Tarzan, Jungle Fucker and Tommy da Who, and so it should have been the number of times they have taken us there before. Some say that a sure-fire test for Alzheimer’s Disease is when you cannot remember the countryside on one of Tarzan’s runs.

To be honest thorough it wasn’t bad at all. It hadn’t rained, the ground was hard and crusty and after five minutes or so the pack was strung out along a dusty path. It was obvious from early on that it was going to be a big lefty and as such tactical decisions were soon made and acted upon.

The front and near front runners would see some stunning countryside, with some drawn-out loops and tricky canal crossings, short cutters avoided the loops and much of the run, and the twilight hashers like Jonesy and Catacombzee would lazily amble among the fields and wax lyrically of the days when they had been front runners. Special commendation should once again go out to the three man Welsh contingent which was always out there checking and heading the pack.

In the latter part of the run we advanced towards and entered the grounds of Emeralder Golf Course, and what I personally liked about this part was that I spent more time on the fairway of the course than I ever do when I’m actually playing the game. Thanks must go out to the hares who must have arranged with to the course management to allow the pack to run over the fairways and greens, especially at that time of the run when legs were feeling the strain.

A short stretch back on the road and we were mostly all back by 6.00pm. Hardcase and Holy Joop arrived bitching at 6.20pm, both blaming each other for following the other!

VR Run Rating: 0 [Vatican Rag was missing, but not missed ]

It was celebrations all round, Indonesian independence from those awful cloggies, Tarzan 75^th run as hare, something about Japanese independence and the fact that the Yellow Peril were no longer dependant on whales or Wales, and more importantly hash numbers had broken 40 once again. There was a holiday atmosphere about the circle. We were less than honored by a few of those rather unpleasant types from that small group that runs on Thursday and also hashers who wanted to get out of the house, because their wives had returned from the summer break.

Once more a lot of sycophantic and obsequious comments about this run, and it was determined to be a good run, as the result of comments from Hardcase, Holy Joop, Pretty Boy and Rabbi. When are we going to another hash shit or at least shit of a run again?

A motley crew from Premier Oil had been ordered to turn up. They included at least three Jocks all of whom attempted tell old jokes; Rabbi’s attempt being the most intelligible as KK interpreted for us. [For your information there has been mounting concern from the committee over the safety aspects of the Rabbi’s shorts and he has now been warned of the longer-term hazards of running in such tight fitting apparel. On a separate medical issue the now timid and recently Vagraless Bolt1on was iced as part of the ongoing cure to rid himself of addiction the lethal drug].

Crusty Nuts, MM, gave us the S and Man again and related his weekend visit to Balikpapan where they were celebrating the 1400^th run. He returned with a little ditty, which at one stage more than adequately described what we all think of the Frogs. He recounted his rendition and My-My-Viagra in Balikpapan [nearly the first time in the Northern Hemisphere] and latter, to everyone’s delight, Magic Dragon gave us the full and uncensored version. Our very own Frank Sumatra, namely Col.Bludbath, chipped in with a ditty or two also.

The German butcher, Udo, was once more introduced and once again he received no hash name, although there was a lot of chuckling from the German [Krauts and/or Square Heads to the Anglos] contingent over the possibility of Dr. Mengeler - although I thought he had been involved in the novelty lamp-shade business. Slobidan [ex Herpes] continued to reign terror, as RA, and once again special attention was given to his fellow fatherlander, the mild mannered and innocuous, GoblokM. The suggestion that Goblok was dressed like a Lithuanian Harbourmaster amused, but appeared to piss-off Goblok who refused a down-down on the feeble excuse that he was driving. For god sake man you are in Indonesia. Herpes picked-on the Dutch [Cloggies to the Anglos], Simply Fred and Holy Joop, for making an awful job of colonizing, which I thought was a little indelicate from a Square Head. The English [commonly known as fucking English by everyone] were given down-downs for the Standard Chartered Bank scam and being involved in giving the Indonesia banking system a bad name. After weeks on the side lines Last Week [one of the few remaining Septics] wanted to tell a joke but was ignored by the RA. Jonesy was in for raising the flag on his car, but as he said, what else can I raise? Botaksan’s imitation of the former president’s doctor was rewarded.

The hares song Apa Itu was sung with gusto, in a local dialect. The translation we were given expanded my Indonesian vocabulary about the female nether regions, where there appears to be a complicated arrangement of working parts, including various receptors, buttons and flaps, which require lubrication using a specially designed inflatable nozzle.

If this had been Tarzan’s day then why did returner Leigh Yaxley come at all and attempt to upstage him. Mr. Yaxley’s last run was in 1972 when according to him he was to young to drink beer. The intervening your years have been not been kind to this man and on the night his excesses, with the Amber Nectar, culminated in collapse in the circle, which was some relief for us all. So what of Tarzan? Today’s hare, celebrating his national day, his 75^th hare and a bronze medal from the government. The committee honored him with a pewter plate and he set about celebrating by a slight over indulgence, dribbling over unsuspecting hashers and telling his life story to those interested. In due course Tarzan finished off with the big one, which in fairness he did share with his fellow hares, and of a course there was a Scotsman at the end of the queue, to mop up the dregs.

Once again the hash master, Sheepskin, ignored the much-prized Prick of the Week award, although maybe the decision was obvious. What do you think Leigh or Lee?

The on on on was taken at the restaurant, by the site, and a lively bunch stayed on knowing that hangovers could nursed at home the next day, which was a holiday.

Back to the bonsai [E.M.].

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