SCRIBE’S REPORT Run 1666 Date November 18 2000 Hares Bolty, Mudguard and Nick Leeson

Statistics: Hashers, Hariettes & Horrors. Total 51. Site: Chedi Hotel, Bandung

HASHSHIT HOLDERS: Bolty, Mudguard and Nick Leeson (run 1666)

Hitler’s decision not to invade Britain after Dunkirk. Napoleon’s decision to invade Russia in Winter and the Hare’s decision to insist the Hash Crash run was to go ahead in rapidly fading light after torrential rain and before half the pack had arrived. These are some of the momentous mistakes that have changed World History. The most expensive JHHH run ever held had (more than two months salary for your average Indonesian) began with extreme ambition by the Hares. The Pack’s expectations had been raised to stellar heights by the lavish promises of Boltoneon to persuade them to join. Champagne, vintage wine, a night at the most expensive hotel in Java and a free fuck with each of his 36 current girlfriends were some of his more believable promises. How could it have ended so disastrously………read on.

It had all started so well. At the ridiculously early hour of 6am on a Saturday morning 51 bleary eyed Hashers, Hariettes and Horrors were sipping champagne, orange juice and coffee and eating some excellent fare prepared by Akbar Palace at a car park in Cibubur. There followed a pleasant drive through beautiful countryside, rice terraces, gurgling streams, impressive river valleys, soaring majestic volcanic peaks, woods with quietly grazing deer this drive had it all. Each team had been given a set of questions to answer on the way. How many palm trees in that plantation? Who gives a fuck, give me a beer. How many houses in that estate? Fuck knows pass me another beer. Everyone knew that the Angie Baby family had already paid off the Hares to win, so what was the point. Three and a half hours later our team of Superbrat, Superslag, driver Colonel Bloodkock and Yulie arrived at Jati the Whores place. A relaxing two hours of drinking red wine and eating followed. The food in question was some rice and something that had once been alive, possibly fish, chicken, beef or pork according to the assembled pack depending on how pissed they were. It was only 11am.

Travelling is all about broadening your mind and learning about new cultures. Java the final frontier, this was our mission to explore strange new worlds and civilisations. To boldly go where no JHHH hasher has gone before. And so it was. In the second half of the drive we learned all sorts of cultural facts about the Sundanese civilisation. Superbrat discovered that the girl with the largest tits in Purwakarta wears a size 38B bra. The women of Plered are obsessed with small pottery penises according to Elephant Man who even brought back proof. For less than the price of one beer in a London pub Pretty Boy and Poison discovered 30 people will run around a market and grovel in unspeakable filth to catch a live rat. We also learned from the music quiz that some of the Hares enjoy listening to crap music and watching second rate films. Yes, it had lived up to our expectations and more. But it was to be all downhill from here, both literally and literary speaking. By 2.30 pm we and several other front running cars were on the outskirts of Bandung, at 3pm we were still on the outskirts of Bandung and at 3.30pm we parked our car at the hotel on the outskirts of Bandung. The last 6 km had taken one hour of sitting in a horrendous macet that Jakarta can only dream about matching.

After 10 hours on the road and 9.5 hours of drinking beer, red wine and champagne we were definitely tired and certainly pissed. It was somewhat surreal to stagger into this deluxe hotel and be greeted by numerous flunkeys in starched white uniforms. Was this really the hash? Curiouser and curiouser said Alice. But yes there was Boltoneon himself who informed us that the bulk of the pack were not going to arrive until after dark and since a thunderstorm of apocalyptic proportions had just begun the run would be held the following day at 9am. We would then all be present, we would be rested and the spectacular views would be visible. Amazing, sometimes it appears the man has a brain after all. We fell into bed at 4pm and fell into a deep sleep fully expecting to be woken at 7.30 pm in time for one or two drinks before dinner at 8pm.

World Class Disasters rarely have one cause. The Herald of Free Enterprise ferry did not capsize just because the bow doors were left open. The Captain had told his crew to get faster turn around so they could do more trips in a day. The solution was to close the bow doors as they left port not before. The ship had been modified to take more cars reducing its stability. The man responsible for closing the doors had fallen asleep. The weather was unusually bad and the Captain had no ability to check from the bridge if the doors were open or closed. Likewise with this run. The choice of hotel was poor, there are numerous better and far cheaper hotels in much better countryside to the East and South of Bandung that would have avoided the macet that delayed most people arriving until after dark. Because the hotel was on the edge of Bandung we had to run through Kampung on numerous concrete paths and steps that were slick when wet. Since we were in the hills and it is the Wet Season it was hardly surprising it rained. But all of this would be fairly irrelevant if it hadn’t been for Boltoneon changing his mind. We in the Gutter Press have spies everywhere and so your Turd Scribe has found out that Boltoneon’s Hash Secretary did not take kindly to being informed the run was to take place on the Sunday. She informed him in no uncertain terms that if that was the case he could forget about a screw that evening. After all she wanted to do lots of shopping at his expense the following day. Why else did he think she let him fuck her. The weak willed Boltoneon immediately caved in. Thinking only with his dick he immediately rushed around banging on doors waking up drunken hashers from their beauty sleep. Five months careful planning was about to be thrown out of the widow for one fuck. He was unheeding to the advise of the few assembled hashers of what was the point as it was going dark, most people were still stuck in the traffic, it would be slippery as shit and we wouldn’t see anything. The pack did not take kindly to this but their suffering was to increase by several orders of magnitude during the next two hours.

Horrifically slippy concrete steps, slick cement paths and then THAT mud. A student of clay mineralogy could probably explain to us why the mud on this run was the slipperiest shit your Scribe has ever encountered. Steep downs and ups were a challenge to say the least. Going up consisted of one step up and perhaps a slide of 3 steps back. Upward momentum was only possible if a treadmill like running action was adopted. Halfway round we were on a ridge from which Magic Dragon reported superb views the following day. We saw sweet fuck all. It was getting seriously dark. The run was about to cross some difficult terrain and the paper was about to get thinner and thinner before vanishing completely. The pack would fragment and the challenge would be to find a safe way back. Your scribe and Skinhead made it home in less than 1 hour 30 minutes but many would enjoy a full 2 hours of suffering courtesy of the Hares. No one found the in-trail including late comer Next Week who tried to run it backwards.

At 7pm with at least five Hashers still out there Elephant Man took control of the circle. HM Herpes was still lost. Your scribe assumed at the time he was possibly lost forever as after getting tired he had decided to use the ill fated funicular train that ran up the tunnel through the Bandungsteinhorn to the hotel. Happily there were no announcements so we could get straight down to business and look at the astonishing poor taste of Sundanese potters. Suddenly an exhausted, sweaty and muddy looking Herpes appeared and grabbed control of the circle. The Run Discussion was a split vote. Half the pack said shit of a run and half said Hashit. Was it possible HM would run to form and declare it a good run? No against all odds he uttered the word Hashit. Bolty and Mudguard then immediately started to argue over who was the Hare. Certainly it bore all the hallmarks of Mudguard. The man that had got 5 Hashits in his first 3 runs as a Hare and has gone on to many more. A rather chaotic circle followed despite a fine performance by Colonel Bloodknock as RA and Angie as MM. Four good original songs had been written for the occasion by Mudguard, Angie, Bottom Feeder and Magic Dragon. At 8pm we closed the circle as the last car arrived having finally been released from the Macet. The Lane family had taken over 2 hours to travel the last 5 km. During the closing hymn Superslag asked what’s the difference between a woman and a PC? Answer - a woman won’t accept a 3.5 inch floppy. The withering, accusatory look Boltoneon received from his secretary confirmed for all present the size and flaccid nature of his organ. And so to the meal. My guidebook to Indonesia claims the Chedi Bandung is the most expensive and stylish hotel in Java. What they don’t say is the food is shit to mediocre and the staff are uncomfortably servile. This Scribe appreciates Hares who try to escape the ordinary. These hares certainly did that. This is a run that will not be quickly forgotten.

Superbrat TURD SCRIBE

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