Run No.
When:
Where: The Handlebar, Alexandra Road
Hares: Shoeless and Desperation
Occasion: MAD HARE DAY / Shoeless’ birthday
Members:
Guests:
Virgins:
Visitors:
Returnees:
A bit different
tonight – a treasure hunt. And excellent fun it was – except for some
conservative, anal-retentive types who were looking for more of a regular run.
The hares had laid no paper, sprinkled no flour, chalked no chalk – instead,
hashers had to use their brains to negotiate the trail. (So they’re all still
out there, then. – Ed.) Oh, only a couple of teams. In groups of four, the pack
had to find the answers to over
The milling around at the beer truck went on for rather longer than usual too as Desperation and her kind friend were busy marking the papers and tallying up. The rest of us steadily quaffed the never-ending supply of margaritas and the laughter got louder and the jokes got sillier. Eventually, things got underway as Indy called for order and was totally ignored. And called for order and was totally ignored. Eventually the idea that a circle was forming penetrated the alcohol-befuddled minds of the mob and something that looked like an irregular oval developed. Indy called in the hares. What did the pack think of tonight’s run? “Too intellectual!” called out some wag, who would probably have trouble spelling it. (I –T isn’t it? – Ed.) Oh, ha ha. Anyway, we’d all had a great time so pronounced it a good run. Desperation announced the on on at the Handlebar and everyone wished Shoeless a happy birthday.
Next week’s run
was announced by Big Hammer who had decided to personalise his hare hat by
turning it into a codpiece. Hope he gives it a good wash when he gets it home.
The run is in Yishun Avenue
Pretty drunkenly raucous at this stage owing to the late start but there was no denying the predatory Indy who got Footrot on the ice for incessant Froggy babbling. Frontarse called in one Japanese Virgin – Kenji – who was also put on the ice for some reason. Visitors were Easy Lay, Octopussy, Mother’s Tongue and Suckling Tits.
And we had some welcome returnees in the shapely forms of Machine and Knickerless, and the slightly less shapely forms of King Leer and Airborne.
Indy hove into remind us that we had a new member who had not yet been welcomed and everyone’s favourite Scandihooliganette Speedy Tits came in.
And Indy got glamorous granny Loose Change in for a down down.
Time for the Mystery Whip. The ever-affable Rooning Shit lurched in still cogitating – that’s “thinking” to you, CCC - about the role of the Mystery Whip. Should he pull in his whole team? – he mused loudly. (Can you muse loudly? – Ed.) You know, Ed, I’ll be really pleased to see the back of you in a week’s time. If I may continue - he wanted to call in Bully whom he had spied doing all sorts of silly warm up exercises before the run and then had proceeded to pull something. Er – pull a muscle. Phoney Dick was dragged in as a lookalike. Then a very peculiar thing happened. Phoney Dick proceeded to demonstrate what is the only thing he pulls by performing some vigorous wanking movements on his Tiger bottle – and at that moment Running Shit’s bottle – and he was standing a good six feet away - erupted in an orgasm of foam. Ooh – spooky! Just like the X-files!
Secondly he wanted to highlight how the tension on the run had degenerated into personal insults. Running down Hyderabad Road, Aftershock had come up behind Ayam Kampong and proceeded to comment to anyone nearby on “two big ones” she could see. In fact, she was talking about AK’s voluptuous buttocks! A certain down down for that.
Haircut then brought in all the new shoe specialists who thought they could get away with it – Corny Linguist, Kiasu Lun and Puss in Boots.
Indy called in the Mystery Mystery Whip which turned out to be the ever-entertaining Gypsy. It looked like he was going to run us out of beer at one fell swoop as he called in Bouncer, Titmouse, Ad Nauseam, Chastity Belt and Bagless, who was harrumphing away disapprovingly in his capacity as hash brew. Apparently they had all been standing around after the hash when Gypsy realised they had all once worked for the same company. He then dismissed all except Titmouse, much to Bagless’s relief, because this sad bastard is the only one that still works for Kaevtner - the rest have wisely moved on,
Speedy Tits and
Stiffy were the next recipients of his beady gaze. They had been spotted
crawling back in at
His last charge was a grave one to some recidivist (a final one for you to look up, CCC) colonial types who had sent off a cheque to the Royal Singapore Yacht Club. The decidedly out-of-date Saliva and Indy were brought in to much derision.
Returnee King Leer was invited in to judge the tarted-up hare hats. All the ladies paraded around giving their best imitations of arthritic Naomi Campbells as they sashayed their way round the circle. King Leer leered appreciatively for about half an hour as the circle talked amongst themselves, got more beer, had a quick shag, filled out their tax returns etc. Eventually he dismissed them one by one – don’t ask me to name everyone – you know who you are. We were all impressed by Puss in Boots who had completely tartified her hat, complete with frizzy wig, rosebud lips and fluttery eyelashes. And Aftershock had turned her hat all Bollywood with a load of Indian jewellery. King Leer gave the ultimate nod to Aftershock. Then he did the same thing with the men, slightly less leeringly but it seemed to take as long. He originally awarded the prize to Gypsy, whose hat seemed to have been given a huge dose of Viagra, judging by the erectile ears, but since he doesn’t drink beer the prize was peremptorily awarded to Bagless the Viking.
Black Widow awarded Prick of the Week – in absentia owing to Alzheimic memory – to Dogshit team-mate Donal – for his complete lack of quiz savviness. Every time he got a clue he was so excited that he blurted it out to all and sundry in the vicinity rather than keeping it to himself.
Excitement was
rising to dizzy heights of trepidation as Desperation came in with the results.
Everyone held their breath. A couple of sensitive souls fainted. Desperation
announced that the top six teams would get tee shirts. The results were based on
a mixture of factors including the quiz results, special tags picked up on the
run and the number of hare hats. Bagless looked horrified at the thought of
providing beer for
Indy leapt back in to thank Desperation and Shoeless for an original and enjoyable run.
There was only time – and beer – for a tiny bit of AOB. This was from the irrepressible Coo Chi Coo who leapt in and gave an impromptu, tuneless and unrecognisable rendition of a couple of lines from The Sound of Music – that bit with “brown paper packages tied up with string”. Preparing Black Widow’s surprise sailor-in-the-box last week, Indy had gone out to buy some brown paper for the package but obviously suffers from a rare form of colour blindness. CCC paraded around the circle with example of said paper. All agreed that it was, indeed, not brown but green. Poor Indy was mocked for her affliction and given a down down.
A mere stagger down the steps and there we were at the Handlebar for the excellent on on barbecue. And some of us didn’t get out of there until the not-so-wee hours of the morning. Thanks very much, hares, for a thoroughly entertaining run and evening.
On On!
Birthday Widow
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