Jakarta Hash House Harriers
Scribe
Sheet Run 1685
HASHSHIT HOLDERS: B-1-on, Mudguard, Nick Leeson (Run 1666)
FINAL PROOF -
THE IRISH ARE A BACKWARD RACE
SCRIBE’S REPORT
Run 1685 Date: 19th
March 2001 Hares: Pretty Boy, Poison & John Bastard
Statistics: Members 31, New Members
6, Wizitors 2. Total 39.
Site: Bukit Pelangi
NO
NAY NEVER
A LIFE IN THE DAY OF… Richard Ward, aged 87, the world-renowned crockery and glass hurling expert who operates under the pseudonym Witless Wanker. Perhaps our most popular hasher and next years HM in waiting he is a close friend of HM Herpes who affectionately calls him Vitles Vankr. Richard lives in a modest 16 bedroom opulent mansion in the ultra luxurious and exclusive Cinere district of Jakarta, one of the World’s most glamorous cities, with his beautiful wife and a harem of sexy young maids. A quiet peaceful man of few words and gentle actions he is careful not to judge or criticise others. Since stepping down from his post as a high-flying executive with BP he has amassed a vast personal fortune day trading on the worlds stock markets. He is a well-known philanthropist whose generosity is legendary.
We sit on a balcony looking over the expansive lawns that step down from the Wanker Mansion’s hill-top position sipping cold Anker Bir, that golden nectar of the Gods, as Richard relates to your Turd Scribe a typical day of his life. “I wake up early, around 11 am, and check to see which of the maids is in bed with me. I am rather old fashioned in that I am always ultra courteous and hate offending anyone, therefore its important to me to call her by her correct name. After being showered and rubbed down by some of the maids I breakfast lightly. I avoid red-meat as I believe that it can lead to aggressive behaviour and may disturb my inner serenity and peaceful relaxed nature”.
“After breakfast I go down to my own personal crockery firing range, it’s an indulgence my wealth allows me to have. As a student waiter in a Greek Restaurant in Great Yarmouth I learnt the rudiments of crockery flinging which I have perfected over the years to become the acknowledged World Champion. I stand on the firing line and as the Gardner and Jaga run around at the other end of the range I carefully select the most ideal piece of porcelain for the job. Its usually a plate or glass but sometimes for the larger person target a tea-pot, coffee-pot or even a gravy boat are more appropriate, its part of the skill to know which. I can hit an ant at 200 paces, easily slice the top off a bottle at 400 paces but my real specialty is innocent bystanders, which are easy targets for me, even at one kilometer. The daily hospital bills for the Gardener’s and Jaga’s injuries are something a man of my wealth need not worry about.”
“I believe that people with unpredictable volatile natures suffer from a lack of good sex, and plenty of it, so at 1pm its time for some group sex with some of the maids from the harem. After a two hour work out with the girls its time to get changed for the hash and to find someone to cadge a lift off. Before I depart I relax with some Yoga while burning aromatic candles to ensure I arrive at the hash relaxed and composed unlike the highly strung and volatile state of some I could mention…….”(continued on page 96).
NEVER
GOING HOME FOR ME
A
run of some 500 meters up a tarmac road to the first check was all that we saw
of the run. No one found paper after that and it was already dark when hashers
arrived from all directions at the other point of the run, which was a wind
blasted hillock in the middle of a housing estate. A truly memorable total shit
of a run. That was last year how would they fare this year? Well the omens were
promising, the hares had placed dozens of signs along a straight road but in
the perverse ways of the Irish had thought it totally unnecessary to place one
at the turnoff to the run site. This resulted in 90% of hashers overshooting
the site and arriving late. It was also clear that the hares had neglected to
carry out any reconnaissance of the area prior to the great day. They
apparently had just driven up in the afternoon gone for a walk, got lost for
four or five hours and eventually scrambled and stumbled back down a boulder
filled streambed to return to the site. Unfortunately for the pack they had
thrown paper down as they had gone including every trail they had wandered
around on. From the site the paper went down and then up a seemingly never ending
cobbled road for 30 minutes, the boredom of this was relieved with magnificent
views of ………the beer truck. Finally the trail left the tarmac road and wandered
around either side of a ridge with superb views of Gunungs Salak and Pangarango
and of course the beer truck far, far below, this allowed the pack to watch the
sun set. In semi darkness and then total darkness the pack were able to feel
and vaguely make out a descent down wonderfully slippery slopes into what in
daylight was undoubtedly a beautiful valley. The only highlight being able to
watch Boltoneon take a truly remarkable long-cut around the skyline in the
mistaken belief that he has any sense of direction or time. In total darkness
the pack were privileged to traverse tiny delicate bunds as the paper wandered
aimlessly either side and down the aforementioned boulder filled stream before
relief arrived in the form of a concrete track which finally returned
frontrunners Gay Gordon, Superbrat and Postponed at 6.38pm. HM Herpes enjoyed
it all so much that he stayed out for another 20 minutes. Finally at 7.05pm
Boltoneon led in the backmarkers foolish enough to believe he ever knows what
he’s doing.
I WILL STAY HERE AND ENJOY
Hot
dogs kindly provided by the hares allowed some to replenish energy supplies
enough to stay for the circle but many just collapsed into their cars to be
driven hope to recuperate. The big obvious question of the day was why, why, oh
why the hares had decided to do this simple but long lefty loop. Even someone
with the intelligence of an earthworm would have seen that, had it been run in
reverse, we would have seen the beautiful sawah in the valley, seen the views
from the ridge and had an easy run in down the tarmac. Ah, I can hear you say
but remember they are Irish, yes, but they should well have known that Gaelic
for good run is nura fotihs and that the reverse is just a reverse of the
letters. The writing was on the wall for the hares when Herpes declared it “not
a masterpiece” and an “Irish embarrassment” This was pretty tame compared to
some of the other comments your Turd Scribe heard throughout the night which
seemed to center around the parental status and sexual orientation of the
hares. Fortunately HM was so tired that he was only able to manage one hour of
announcements. This was clearly a big plus point for the hares. So we welcomed
back Pitstop who returned just 4 weeks after receiving his 45th
leavers mug. Fellow returners were Leeky Dick, Poison, KK, Hartono and finally
Boltoneon who had been forced to leave Australia after spending more money on
whores in one week than in one year in Indonesia. New members Teddy, Martin
Hughes, Apui, Tony Jam and of course Ronny (still classified as a new member by
Hash Sex but soon to receive his 50 run shirt…..shurely shome mishtake Hash
Sex. Herpes next demanded “ Ilham kom into ze sirkil, vy hav yu registerd kaml
fuker as a wizitor?” while Tom Jones pondered on this heinous crime he was able
to enjoy a downdown. And so to the run discussion, considered a foregone
conclusion by the circle, but with HM anything is possible. After hearing
swinging criticism (Camel Fucker and Jungle Fucker), strong support (Yoshi, loved all the paper, Pitstop loved
feeling “totally fucked”), hashit technical factor impacts (Bloodclot), apathy
(Sheepskin), over the top adulation (Boltoneon) and incomprehension (KK “maybe
over there going Irish otak kecil so I lun, good lun so I finding mekel yap
mafi jakusi”) HM said the word Hashit. 5 seconds later after hearing the
collective gasp of amazement from the circle he declared it a total shit of a
run. Obviously our great leader is a truly decisive man. However Hash statistics never lie: beautiful
countryside +9, fantastic views +15, new area +180, providing hot dogs and
whisky +58, reducing announcements by one hour +567, setting the run the wrong
way round –2876 equals total –56854. This is somewhat deep into the total shit
of a run category, which begins at +2 according to Hash Sex Maaaandi. There
followed some good and some truly awful Irish Jokes by RA Bloodclot who along
with Leeky Dick was wearing a bright yellow coat with tails kindly donated by
KK to make these card carrying Old Aged Pensioners even more ridiculous than
usual. Tarzan rambled on about hand grenades “ my government complain…”(continued
on page 96). Pretty Boy gave us yet another excellent rendition of the Irish
Wild Rover, Poison gave a rather less competent version of Cats on the Rooftops
and finally clearly unable to stand the pain anymore Magic Dragon showed us how
it was supposed to be sung. They were all, however outclassed by our Japanese
visitor Otani who stomped around the circle looking like he had a poker shoved
up his arse, his face in a grimace as if trying to expel the offending object
from his rear passage while waving his arms around and singing “ohsah ohtogo
runy onstow, oh wacky sodor, oh saker unin, kats dur ok”. This not surprisingly
brought the circle to a close. On-on was in Blok M attended by the usual
connoisseurs of all that is good. Thanks Hares for your sponsorship of the
Jamiesons Whisky, the hot dogs and the beer in Blok M.
PUSSY FOR FREE
In
the next issue penned by your Turd Scribe look out for part 2 of our 10 part
Boltoneon story. Find out how Bolty became a viagra addict as a consequence of
the megalomaniac plan, which resulted in him becoming HM……..but at a terrible
price for him………..and us. Herb, I’m afraid the free use of all your girlfriends
and the holiday in Europe are just not good enough. Please transfer huge
amounts of cash to my bank account or that of my masseur to prevent publication
of shockingly good dirt in part 2.
Superbrat TURD
SCRIBE
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