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Run 1596. 23 August, Sentul Road Run Hares: Microshite, Konkorde

Stats: : Members 30, plus 4 visitors/new members, = Total 34.

Can you remember some of the great runs we’ve had in this area, up and down the hill, through the woods, along the river. Well, this was not one of them. The ruins of chicken farms now litter the hillside, and not even the smell lingers. The road is just as bad as ever, and the site was in the middle of a bramble and mimosa paradise. We started off down into the woods, with a cheeky check back to catch the HM, still leading the pack within 100m. But then it turned right across the crops and meandered across the hill in a loopy kind of way, neither going up for the view, or down for a paddle. Indeed at the far point, the hares had arranged for a path leading up through the woods to be konkreted for 1km for us to run on, before returning along the long and winding, cobbled, potholed road for 3 km. The pelaton was back within 45 minutes whilst a few discerning hashers wandered around some of the better scenery off paper and made a full hour of it. As Angie commented, "It’s hard to imagine how the hares could fuck up such a beautiful area so thoroughly, and although I was obviously on paper the whole time, I found much nicer parts that the hares never reached."

As hashers anxiously gathered around the umbrella to learn who were the latest returners, the HM was still meandering aimlessly around with a hunk of plastic pressed to one ear, talking to himself. It’s not often the symptoms show so early in the hash year. But Colonel Bloodbath is never one to be deterred by propriety and leapt into the middle for a couple of verses of "Mobile." This clearly exhausted him, and ended communal singing for the evening. The AGM, Angie took up the running, gave 2 stray cats a beer (Tarzan and Konkorde),

and after testing out the ice with Konkorde and Witless W, granted a few awards such as "welcome Batavia hashers." He then invited RA Herpes (Slobber-on) to lead a run discussion who promptly had the hares placed on stones to symbolise what the hash had been running on. It was plain from the unbiased comments, Holy Joop, Nick Leeson, Next Week, that these people hadn’t exactly enjoyed themselves. Expect for dyslexic RabEye who did enjoy a big lefty without seeing paper (twas a righty) and who had been given instructions by the hares on arriving late. (And we’re still awaiting our PREMIER OIL T-shirts from last week).

Completely oblivious to this activity, at 6.47 HM found his wanderings had brought him into the circle and he put away the toy his girlfriend had bought him at some traffic lights last year. The hare had secretly informed Col.B that the run had previously been set for the horrors 2 years ago when it was awarded a "hash poo" (that’s a sort of juvenile shit). Mandi promised we’d have our hashit board back by next week, so Next Week was given a dd. Herpes muttered darkly about crop bashing and Holy Joop said something so unintelligible even he could not understand it. The only really good news was reported by Sheepskin, wherein Vatican Rag, engrossed upon counting passing sheep and hashers, became caught inside a fenced area and couldn’t extricate himself. Sheepskin thus pronounce it, too short, too dry, in fact a veritable constipated SHIT OF A RUN.

Awards were given for various competitive sports bearing no resemblance to hashing. Though upon thinking about it, English cricket can hardly be described as competitive, though possibly more sporting than Chinese sponsored football lighting. The Tasmanian ex umpire was made an honorary hash member in absentia (5 years?). BB was given the choice of two new 550run shirts, almost clean, the classic non Golkar yellow or the gaudy Boltone design. He selected both, and gave us "the works of his threshing machine." Angie got his 450 run mug, but he’d already sung when receiving his shirt a couple of weeks ago, so we didn’t have suffer again. Tarzan for once had not achieved anything, but Colonel Bloodbath explained how he’d managed to hold Tarzan’s dick for 10 minutes under the pretext of guessing his age. It’s 44 in case you feel inclined to join in. After all, Tarzan spends most of circle hanging onto his dick, so it’s only fair someone else should have the opportunity.

The virgin hare led his dad into the circle, both with white sticks, followed closely by their eye-seeing dog, Col.B. Why do the English insist on calling them blind dogs; the bloody animals can see perfectly well. Anyway junior explained (in song) how Konkorde had taught him to wank, and now just like Tarzan, he can’t keep his hand off it. Meanwhile Konkorde admitted that he liked to keep his hand in. The led to the accompanying Welsh corgi singing, "Too much wanking makes you blind." And that was it, as far as singing is concerned.

The RA only likes to sing to an oompah band whilst marching in the woods in his lederhosen, so he tries to turn us into a joke of a hash. He awarded medals for Olympic achievements, but not to Sheepskin who claimed not to be a medalist but a male model. Angie gave the Bank Bali interim audit report, which promises to be the biggest joke yet, and Hardcase attempted to relieve, or was relive, the tedium with his joke of the week, which could only be understood by Scots or niggers, if you can tell the difference. Personally, I was always taught that the wogs begin at Calais, but that was before the tunnel could enabled the garlic sellers to wheel their bicycles straight into England.

Microshite had obviously promised to show his dad where the 5+1 lay, since they announced an On-On at the Top Gun, but failed to show up there. Indeed hash honour was upheld by 3 only, Mudguard, Witless W and Copper Dick, who proceeded to thrash the younger grannies at pool in the Klub afterwards.

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