AGM POSTPONED

It’s…the (postponed) AGM!!!

The run this week (Wednesday 4 December) is from the roof podium of Tai Po Hui Market and Cooked Food Centre.

Start at 7.30pm from the podium / roof garden reached by lift from Wan Tau Street. Details here.

Short run followed by circle and announcement of new committee, followed by grub up at the adjacent daipaidongs in the hawker centre.

Come along and find out who our hash rulers are for the next 12 months. They may be less democratically elected than our political rulers, but we promise they will be more effective!

On on, the committee:

Catch Of The Day, One Eyed Jack, Geriatric, Penile Dementia, Eunuch, Golden Jelly, Golden Balls

TAI PO WET MARKET

Run 1944, 30 October, Tai Po

The Prawn: An “Accident”

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As we are all aware by now there has been a spate of “accidents” to various N2TH3 members. Apart from the Grand Mistress Catch of the Day who has been on crutches for what seems like an eternity we have had Ginger Moon (broken leg), One Eyed Jack (fractured ankle), Cutie (splintered fingernail),  Penile Dementia (regaining memory) and more recently Gunpowder Plod (fractured knee). Given that no other hash chapter has been hit with so many injuries, within such a short period of time, things are looking rather peculiar. The question remains to be answered: “Are these really accidents or is there an assassin hiding within the ranks of the N2TH3?”…………..

Fast forward one day after Plods accident. Annie (Plod’s wife) visits him at Nethersole Hospital. She brings along a couple flasks of soup, a tin of baked beans, a copy of Sexy Handcuffs Monthly and retired Super Detective Inspector Poo Poo Chan.  Plod and Inspector Poo Poo Chan go back a long way as they were badminton partners whilst competing for the Hong Kong Police. Plod also taught Poo Poo how to shortcut various trails during inter-forces cross country races and on a Friday, after a gentleman’s curry at the marine police base, Plod would let Poo Poo gently stroke and comb the hairs on his manly chest. Seeing Plod in his crocked state and after hearing about what had happened the night before, as well as all the other accidents that had occurred on the N2TH3, Inspector Poo Poo Chan whispered to himself, “Surely all of these injuries could not have occurred by accident. Maybe someone tried to exterminate my long-time hairy short-cutting buddy.”

After bidding Annie and Plod farewell Inspector Poo Poo Chan went to look for some of the wonderful emergency services men who were involved in the rescue the previous night…not difficult since there were 15 of them. He found six of them having coffee in the staff canteen and coincidentally chatting about Plod’s rescue. To a man, they all had the same thing to say to Inspector Poo Poo Chan: “Bloody idiots, only fools would go up a hill like that in darkness. Can’t these morons run around a track like normal people?”

Two more days had passed since Plod’s accident.  Super Detective Inspector Poo Poo Chan had by now assessed the hillside and interviewed all those present. He was now able to identify five key suspects, each with a motive for taking down Plod. A hearing was scheduled for the next day at Tai Po Catholic Kindergarten, in front of the infamous Judge Botta Q….someone was going down for this.

 

First suspect: Mango Groove.

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Judge Botta Q  Please state your name.

Mango  Oh yes, they call me Bottom Feeder, cos I set crap runs, but you can call me Mr Groove.

Judge Botta Q  I hear you have recently relocated from Fanling to Sai Kung. Obviously you were looking to move into Plod’s lucrative Lego hustling business. You did it, didn’t you? You wanted him out of the way, you wanted to take over his patch. Come on, admit it scum!

Mango  Listen up Judge, Plod has controlled the market on Lego hustling in Sai Kung for a long time. There has been a massive proliferation of schools in the area, plenty of action for the two of us. Plod didn’t want to share so I had to spike my Lego with stickle bricks. Kids, mothers, nannies, they were fixed on my stuff, they wanted more, they were hooked baby. When Plod heard about my innovative approach he started offering MacDonald’s vouchers with his Lego sets…he started the turf war, not me.

Judge Botta Q  I see. Fair enough. But can you account for your movements that day, Mr Groove?

Mango  Sure. I woke up and decided to try my hand at baking some doughnuts. You see I’m hoping to get a spot in The Great British Bake Off.  Well actually I lie, I really want to get in with that Mary Berry, would love to cover her lemon curd with my sticky meringue.

Judge Botta Q  Indeed, Mary Berry does have rather nice cupcakes, but please continue.

Mango  I had a disaster: the dough did not rise and my doughnuts ended up looking like small pieces of rat shit. Even the village dog turned them down. But I could foretell trouble as there is a saying back home in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, and it goes, “When the dough don’t rise someone will roll down a bank.” Anyway, I had no time to dwell as Plod was picking me up from Sai Kung town. Normally, when I get a lift from Plod, I sit in the front passenger seat of his Jaguar and he massages my thighs whenever we stop at red lights, he has soft hands you know. But this week, that tart My Little Pony was sitting in the front seat, oiled up like a Formula One engine with silly stickers plastered over his torso…some people would do anything for a thigh massage from Plod.

Judge Botta Q  Can you please get to what happened on the run, Mr Groove.

Mango  Well, we form a bit of a huddle and all listen in to pre-run instructions from the hare, Crème Brûlée. He talked about R1s, W2s, TRs and many other things, it was an algebra class. Anyway, we took off and eventually started going up this hill, QT in front and Radio 1 behind me. We got to the top and saw Liberace ranting and raving, running around with a bit of chalk correcting the instructions that were written on a grave. I ran back down, passed Plod and told him to turn back. I got to the bottom and waited for Eunuch and Liberace. The three of us ran up another hill, Liberace wimped out, leaving Eunuch and myself. On the road Eunuch and I couldn’t find trail so we decided to hold hands and sing…bum titty bum titty titty bum. Eventually we came across Penile Dementia who pointed us in the direction of the R2 trail. We were just about to take off, when Stingray appeared with five heavies asking how to go back up the hill.

Judge Botta Q (interrupting abruptly)  Mr Groove, you saw nothing and heard nothing, so why on Earth are you here?

Mango  Don’t know really Judge. Inspector Poo Poo Chan said that if I signed a bit of paper he would give me his Wellcome stamps. I’m saving up for the casserole dish.

Judge Botta Q  Please leave the dock immediately Mr Groove.

 

Second suspect: Stingray

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Judge Botta Q  Ahh, the dodgy dealer of West Hampstead…you must be guilty. Come on, admit it and we can all go home before lunch.

Stingray  Well your honour, Plod and myself fell out a few years back. You see back in 1981, he sold me his Hotpoint washing machine. He said it would last forever. In the beginning it worked great. On a Saturday after Football Focus, the wife and myself would pop open a bottle of Chianti, get in a few jellied eels and switch on the Hotpoint. We both particularly enjoyed watching the heavy linen cycle, that was our favourite. The Hotpoint was a memorable part of our courting days. I don’t think my Elizabeth would have married me if I had a Zanussi. Fast forward 25 years and me Hotpoint breaks down. I approach Plod and ask for me money back, he laughs at me and then I’m forced to sell me Tai Po Rovers season ticket so that I can afford a Fortress machine…nice, but not the same. It’s true I was looking to get even with him.”

Judge Botta Q  I see Mr Stingray. Can you account for your movements that fateful evening?”

Stingray  So like I’m trudging up this awful trail and you just know it goes all the way up to Cloudy Hill. Sure enough, there’s a check back. Bloody Crème Brûlée, now you know why we voted for Brexit. Then I’m going back down and there’s Plod sitting in the middle of the trail. Obviously, he’s knackered, anyway kick him out of the way, see if I can keep up with the athletes. Down a bit further and then there’s all this shouting and screaming, worse than MacDonald’s. Then, because someone’s shouting “Help!” thought I’d better go back. F*** it. Plod, the wanker, he’s fallen off the trail and gone down about 10 foot and done his knee in. I got this First Aid badge in the cubs about 60 years ago, so I’m thinking better help. Serbian’s not too impressed with my qualifications and tells me to piss off.  We stand around for about half an hour, me, Serbian, QT, Radio 1 and My Little Pony, discussing how a couple of phones and GPS are gonna save the day.

Judge Botta Q  And the rescue operation, did you assist?”

Stingray  Anyway, after all this bollocks, a few of us run down to the village to meet the police or ambulance, firemen or anyone else who looks a bit sort of official following up the 999 call. Can’t expect much, as these days they’re all off catching the student terrorists. So Serbian and QT run off somewhere, no idea where, and I get stuck with all these dozens of ambulance guys wanting to know where to go. With all this chaos I haven’t the faintest idea of the way back up the bloody hill till suddenly along comes Mango and Eunuch holding hands and giggling, like titty bum or some bollocks, totally oblivious to the drama unfolding on the mountain. With Eunuch’s God-like help, back we go, up the stupid trail and meet up with about a hundred people all now standing around checking out Plod’s unfolding fiasco. What are we gonna do? Get a helicopter, some sort of catapult or a surfboard. Apparently, these drones are coming in handy nowadays, if they can deliver a pizza – and Plod looks like he’s had a few pizzas in his day – that could do it? No, just carry him down you morons. Can’t remember much else except Plod’s supposed to be setting the run next week and now we’ve got stuck with Liberace. It never rains but it pours!

Judge Botta Q  Thank you Mr Stingray. Despite your dodgy appearance you are totally incapable of being an assassin. Go on, bugger off!

Stingray  Thank you, your Honour. Come over some time we can watch my Fortress machine do the full warm water wash-spin cycle…brilliant viewing.

Judge Botta Q  Send in the next suspect!

 

Third suspect: Serbian Bomber

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Serbian  Serbian Spammer Bomber Baron Diver von Mooseheime, commander of the Special Forces Unit, Tsuen Wan Boys Brigade, at your service your Honour.

Judge Botta Q  Hello Mr Serbian, I like your military uniform, very nice indeed. Now tell me, is it true that you have just started your own Youtube channel?

Serbian  Yes your Honour, it is called People Rolling Down Hillsides. Got an MBA recently and using my business skills I have identified a niche market for this fetish. That is why I always run with my phone in case I catch that golden moment of someone having an immense crash. I pretend that it is for GPS in case I get lost…but come on, who do you think I am, Liberace?

Judge Botta Q  I see. And how many videos have you posted on your Youtube channel?

Serbian  Well, to date, just the one, Plod last week. I missed the Ginger Moon and One Eyed Jack fiascos as I was doing art and craft classes with my Boys Brigade unit when their accidents happened.

Judge Botta Q  So you were looking for that virgin movie, desperate to get your channel up and running, crying out for subscribers, yearning for fame. You wanted to be the next Gangnam Style Youtube sensation? You pushed Plod down that hillside and filmed everything. You had the motive. You did it didn’t you?

Serbian  I know I look as guilty as sin but please let me explain. On 30 October this year, at approximately 7:30pm the gang of drunken runners self-styled as the “Northern New Territories Hash House Harriers” assembled at the northern end of Chuen On Road Park. I was a witness to this. Before the run, a certain hasher, named Plod, aged 72, was told in no uncertain terms by the hare that he should not do the rambo trail. This warning fell on deaf ears. You know how stubborn old people can be. So, after going around and around Tai Po we finally found the first wimp / rambo split. The old duffer decided to do the rambo trail. The route went steeply over loose, powdery soil, up through the forest to graves at the top of the hill. There, the rambos were greeted with the words “Ha ha. Go to wimps”. Liberace interpreted this as find the trail to wimps. Everyone else headed back down to the wimp / rambo split.

Judge Botta Q  Please get to the incident, Mr Serbian!

Serbian  Just as I reached the bottom of the hill, I realised I could hear faint cries drifting from above. Was that faint noise a cry for help? or was it a prank? Realising that if it was real then this could be the big-time breakthrough video I’d been waiting for, I got my phone at the ready. I turned around (again) and headed back up the hill. Almost at the top, I encountered distressed hashers looking after Plod. He had fallen off the cliff-like side of the path and dropped a few metres before coming to an abrupt halt with his legs wedged between 2 trees. Peering through the crowd, I could see that Plod was in pain, grey with shock and drenched with sweat, sitting curled up against two tree trunks. This was absolutely the most perfect scene for my video. I whopped out my phone and got filming, prodding Plod a few times just to get a bit of screaming in. I then asked QT and Radio 1 if they were first aiders and, on discovering they were not, asked them to move out of the way and let me through. Looking between the branches, I could see Plod’s knee swelling somewhat. He was wriggling his toes and ankle, so probably not broken. Wanted my video to have an edge so I removed Plod’s shorts leaving him in only his Winnie the Pooh G-string….perfect. Scanning with my torch I quickly assessed the situation – minor scrape to right arm – bleeding but not enough to require attention – no other obvious injuries. Plod described hearing a snap as his knee flexed the wrong way. I tried to get this on film. With Plod wedged in firmly, I decided he was secure, with no risk of falling further down the slope and that it would cause unnecessary risk, distress and pain to attempt to move him. Better off leaving him where he was until the emergency services arrived with equipment for a rescue. I then got to posting what I had filmed, you know Facebook, WeChat, Whatsapp.  Fame was so close I could smell it. I needed to grab this opportunity.

Jude Botta Q  Can you account for what happened after your filming and posting?

Serbian  Only Plod and myself were carrying phones, so we passed a phone to Radio 1 to call the emergency services with instructions to make sure they know he’s 72. My Little Pony was doing an excellent job of helping Plod stay comfortable so I decided that the most value I could add now was to help guide the emergency services up to the location. So down the hill I went (again) after giving My Little Pony instructions to lay Plod as flat as possible if he should pass out (but he stayed conscious). At the foot of the hill, I found Stingray and together we found a fire crew (Charlie Watch from Tai Po Fire Station) and, parked 100 metres away, an ambulance crew (Ambulance 434). As I arrived at the rescue truck, the crew started out with their rigid fibreglass stretcher. No time for me to warn Stingray, so I just followed them until I could get them to understand I was there to guide them. When we arrived at the scene of Plod’s accident, more hashers had congregated there, making it as busy as Lan Kwai Fong on a Friday night. It took the fire crew about half an hour to get Plod out of his wedged position and up onto the path. At one halt, Plod was making kissy faces and I realised he needed a drink, so I passed him my juice bottle. Finally, the fire crew got down to the bottom, moved him onto the ambulance’s stretcher and carted him off. Radio 1 went in the ambulance with Plod, while the rest of us took the most direct route back to the start. It felt strange taking photographs and videos of all this, but I knew Plod would want them for his Facebook.”

Judge Botta Q  Please go away Mr Serbian, it is obvious that you are just too nice to be an assassin.  I wish you good luck with your Youtube Channel. Send in the next suspect.

 

Fourth Suspect: Eunuch

slow motion of mid age martial artist fighter.

Judge Botta Q  Ahhh, my old nemesis Eunuch. You look different today. Somewhat cool.

Eunuch  Thanks Judge. I’ve grown dreadlocks and beaded my hair since the last time I stood in front of you. I’m now the first white Rastafarian from Weston Super Mare.  Peace and respect to Bob Marley.” (Pulls out a 6 inch long Colombian spliff and starts puffing.)

Judge Botta Q  Yes indeed The last time we met you had a big issue with Plod didn’t you?

Eunuch  Yeah, well da big boy Plod sent his forces of oppression to raid my hash plantation in Kau Lung Hang.  I had my kids looking after the ganga, Ruth love to water my erbs, so fascinated to watch dem grow. Piss in Bucket would pee on dem and Travis would take a few roll-ups for his friends in woodwork class. Da police led by Plod have messed with my brethren and rooted my ganga. I now have to smoke this Colombian shit …Babylon will burn. (Takes another puff on his spliff.)

Judge Botta Q  You obviously had a score to settle with Plod. Can you account for your movements the evening of the accident?”

Eunuch  While My Little Pony flexed his tattooed (unicorn stickers) torso, the hare explained that the first wimp trail would be “pretty difficult for the first 200 metres”. Plod asked about the rambo split and was told it was not for fucking pansies – whether that was an attack on Plod’s running abilities or just “the way of the Frenchman” we shall never know. Actually, that’s a lie… we did find out later it was the former. So the first bit of the run was dicking around in a copse that was surrounded by a road – Geriatric of course simply stuck to the road while the rest of the pack did the usual running back and forth like idiots. Over the hill, through the fence, over the road, through the car park (that smelt of wee), cross over the W2 trail, into a village and presto, we found the first spliff, sorry I mean split. Taking the rambos, I pushed up the hill, passing Liberace, Mango, Radio 1 and My little Pony… only to find a grave with “go to wimps”. Of course this meant go back down the trail and take the wimps, but my problem was that I was certain that the pack would want to come all the way up to this point. Deciding to switch my torch off and wait for their arrival, when they did eventually do so, they didn’t seem very happy – especially Plod who was asking for a stick. Running over him like bastards, Mango, Liberace and myself romped back down towards the split… and in the distance I genuinely heard screaming that was reminiscent of myself during a Hok Tau run back in August 1997. Surely not! – No one is as stupid as me. I put the commotion down to some sort of horseplay / tomfoolery between the pack behind us. Probably Serbian flashing his love sausage at QT again.

Judge Botta Q  I see. So you didn’t think to turn around and go back?

Eunuch  Errr, fuck no. (Takes another puff on his Colombian.) With the thought of anything horrible happening behind me now blanked and replaced with the theme from Shaft, the three of us engaged the difficult 200m of the wimps which went back up the mountain on a different trail. We found Halloween masks in the shiggy and eventually came back down to another set of graves. We lost Liberace at this point, he decided to shortcut home like a little bitch, while Mango and myself found R2. In the road were two fire service vehicles and an ambulance. Approaching us was a very confused and angry Stingray (with an entourage of emergency personnel) exclaiming “How the fucking hell do I find trail back up the hill?!!” Putting two and two together, I realized that someone IS as stupid as me and that the sounds of someone screaming I had heard earlier was in fact just that. So we all guided the emergency personnel back up the hill… and there he was, wrapped in a heat sheet (presumably to protect the world from him). Plod was sat some 20 feet below the trail, flipping the bird and hunched over his lower body like some old woman protecting her last packet of Bourbons. It is at times like these that certain superstars among us surface, and thank the heavens that Serbian Bomber was there, for he instantly produced his phone and managed to get plenty of choice photos, which (thanks to Hong Kong’s excellent communications network) immediately found themselves on social media. At the ambulance, QT appeared with a bag full of beer which raised our spirits, and after watching the doors close on Plod, we walked back to the circle where Catch of the Day had slipped into a coma waiting for our return.

Judge Botta Q  Enough of this nonsense. Bugger off, white Rastafarian. Send in the hare – it must be him!!!

 

Fifth suspect: Crème Brûlée

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Judge Botta Q  Ahh yes, the hare Crème Brûlée. If all else fails then blame the hare.

Crème Brûlée J’ai du fromage dans mes malles.

Judge Botta Q  Can you please speak in English.

Crème Brûlée  Si vous trouvez e coupable, vous homosexuel s’en filer, alors je viendrai à votre maison demain matin et faire un grand torride en vous Weetabix.

Judge Botta Q  This is your final warning. English or else! Now please account for your actions on that day.

Crème Brûlée  Certainly, my little poofy friend. It took five weeks to set up this run and not a single twat finished it…most of them were English, no surprise that us French people voted for Brexit too. Looking at the map, the dots of the trails were linking nicely but then a big typhoon last year took down thousands of trees and a huge ugly construction site on the back of the Taipo Hospital shattered these dots into anarchy. As I did several recces I encountered a lot of dead ends but I persisted. I was just going through the overgrown shiggy, climbing or crawling above or under rotting tree trunks.  It took me 2 hours to set a 200m trail.  During the pre-run briefing I told all the gathered morons that some part of the W1 would be very difficult. But there was a possibility to get back on the trail in a more “gentle” way. Well, only Penile Dementia and Liberace went through that part and then they had enough, couldn’t be bothered with R2 or R3. Everybody else got stuck on the R1…. WTF.

Judge Botta Q  You went to the hospital after Plod was admitted.  You had failed to take him out on trail so you went to Nethersole to finish him off. Am I correct?

Crème Brûlée  Well I couldn’t go straight to the hospital as My Little Pony needed to find Plod’s ID card.  He wanted to change and smell nice for all those sexy nurses so he drops his trousers. He thinks nobody is looking but everybody can see he bare backside. My wife said to me, “If that is what the bottom of a vegan looks like then I want you to give up all animal products tomorrow.” Eventually we go and we wait outside the hospital emergency ward with My Little Pony, Back To The Future and Liberace. Good lad, he took two cans of beer to give to Plod. An ambulance arrived, followed by 2 taxis but no Plod. We wait. Now Liberace opens a can and start to sip it. A second ambulance arrives followed by two Mercedes (not for Plod obviously). Liberace says four cans of beer and driving is not a personal best for him. My Little Pony says he cannot drink any more. Back to The Future says she doesn’t want to sleep on a parking lot any more. By now we are very drunk but still decide to wait for Plod. A third ambulance arrives, no following car. That’s Plod! And he is taken right away to the doctor and the all medical process can start. Meanwhile Liberace opens another can under Plod’s nose. Plod makes a move to grab it but Liberace pushes him back gently, telling him ‘You’re sick Plod, you can’t drink beer.” Plod is not happy. And the doctor wants to keep him for the night or maybe forever.

Judge Botta Q  Please stand down, hare.  I cannot find anyone amongst your rabble guilty. Surely someone knows something.

As Judge Botta Q was about to close the court proceedings, a faint voice that eventually got louder was heard from the back of the gallery. “It was him, it was Mango…ruff ruff..it was Stingray…ruff ruff….it was Serbian…ruff ruff…it was Eunuch…ruff ruff it was Crème Brûlée…ruff ruff!” Everyone turned to see where the noise was coming from. Peering above a bench was a very small bespectacled head with a bright red, somewhat angry face. It was One Eyed Jack. A few seconds later the assembled mass turned and looked at each other and in unison all shouted “Of course!” Judge Botta Q hit his wooden table with his hammer as hard as possible, stared at One Eyed Jack and yelled “This hearing is not closed, send him into the box!”

Moshe-Dayan

Wishing Plod a very speedy recovery.  By Stingray, Eunuch, Serbian Bomber, Crème Brûlée and Mango Groove.

Hare Creme Brulee

Runners My Little Pony, Eunuch, Geriatric, Liberace, Mango Groove, Penile Dementia, Gunpowder Plod, QT, Serbian Bomber, Stingray, Back To The Future, Catch Of The Day, Radio 1

Run 1943, 23 October, Sai Kung

Shine On You Crazy Diamond

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Mango Groove is an 11-piece South African Afropop band according to the Tai Po massif, and here’s some of the old songs they played to the Hash last Wednesday…..

The Groove has just moved to Sai Kung so it was welcome to My Home Town and Are You Ready for the Country because I’m the New Kid in Town. We met On the Dock of the Bay with many a Sloop John B adrift.

It was on on and up The Long and Winding Road, Dancing in the Dark and up to the Crossroads. For Mango there Aint no Mountain High Enough. Two visitors wore their crazy Bright Torches until we were Blinded by the Light and yet another Crash. We got So Far Away until eventually reaching a cemetery and a Stairway to Heaven.

Turning down in a Purple Haze it was Go Your Own Way and Check On It. On down. That’s just The Way It Is. down the Telegraph Road. We were soon Homeward Bound. Just follow the Little Arrows. No chance for The Shiggy Challenge.

Back at the bucket the hare pleaded I Was Only Joking but it had been nearly 2000 Miles. The pack was stunned, Don’t Say a Word to Mango, Don’t Be Cruel.

At last we were all back for Cigarettes and Alcohol. Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps. All set for the Down Down Duppa.

The hare was less a raving Mango more a nat old King Cole marching us up to the Top of the Hill. But we did have a Buddy Holy lookalike aptly named Peggy Sue and a veteran geisha girl was named Catch of Yesterday.

To the ONONON and a toast. Raise your glass to Mike Barker Stains and Bouncing Bombers.

So despite the Ch-ch-ch-changes it was Another Day in Paradise and we all retired with our own Personal Jesus. Amen.

Wait, wait, just Let Me Explain!!!

PS Accordian to Creme Brulee it was more like Parisienne Walkways than Country Roads . Just Wait Till Next Week !!!!!  — Stingray

Hare Mango Groove

Runners Creme Brulee, Eunuch, Geriatric, Liberace, Penile Dementia, Gunpowder Plod, QT, Serbian Bomber, Stingray, Catch Of The Day, Radio 1, Burning Lust, Peggy Sue?

Non-runner Catch Of Yesterday

Run 1941, Lau Shui Heung, 9 October

A Not Boaring Run

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It was past 6 o’clock when I arrived at Ryuusui with the ice. As I turned right at the T-junction towards the reservoir, a wild boar disappeared into the mountainside across the road. A small boar followed. When I see a wild boar, I remember Bukkake because his hair is the same colour.

I stopped on the left shoulder in front of the barrier. When I saw the wild boar, it was still bright, but it was dark within 10 minutes. If you stare at the road without doing anything, a black dot appears to move in the distance. Two black objects were lying on the road, probably the wild boar or piglet. As it gradually melted into the darkness, two white lights appeared.

It was Mr and Mrs Hare that got out of the car.

I couldn’t see white powder anywhere on my body, so I probably went home and took a shower. She said it smelled good for Mrs Hare, she said it was a mosquito repellent spray.

Eunuch put the beer on the trolley and filled the eskies with ice that I had bought. Pushed the carriage from here to the start. Stingray came and climbed the hill together. I followed slowly with crutches.

Eunuch made a U-turn in the middle of the hill and went to pick up Mrs Hare. When I climbed the hill, beer and ice were confused on the road. It fell here and there. When he asked “Stingray, are you okay?” he said, “I’m okay.” “Brady hell”. A lot of ice was sprinkled on the road, and it was hard to beat it with both hands and put it into eski. The ice that I bought at Salmon has been halved.

Departure in the moonlight without street lights.

Check at Lau Shui Heung trail entrance. Keep going up the steps of country trails for a couple of hundred metres to the R/W split. Wimps carry on Lau Shui Heung trail after passing Wilson Trail Section 9 junction and then merge together with rambo trail. At a gazebo, check was marked behind the wood board, it was mentioned by hare at briefing, the check for four directions. Of course, Liberace checked all three trails with T. Soon COTD, Mango Groove and Stingray caught up and went to the fourth trail marked “on on”. It was a so-called virgin trail by Eunuch. A beautiful 500m shiggy downhill brought us back to Lau Shui Heung campsite where we saw Golden Balls walking backwards by himself.

We all got back to Lau Shui Heung Reservoir except Penile Dementia. As soon as he arrived, he needed to head back to Hok Tau barbecue pits where he mistakenly parked his car. When he finally returned, we welcomed him with a surprise birthday song but he was probably too tired to remember his birthday. —Catch Of The Day

Hare Eunuch, Antiseptic

Runners Catch Of The Day, Penile Dementia, Golden Jelly、Mango Groove, Stingray, Liberace, Geriatric, Golden Balls

Run 1940, Lam Tsuen, 2 October

I Don’t Believe You!

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This weeks run was set by hash stalwart Luk Sup Gow, from his house at Pak Tin Kong Village, Lam Tsuen. After finding the start using the very useful location marker on WhatsApp this weeks scribe was second to arrive along with Stingray, and as we entered the house of LSG and Beer Tits who should we find perched nicely on the sofa with a can of lager…Gunpowder Plod, who had turned up early to watch the rugby. After having a quick look at baby Cassandra and after Eunuch and Liberace had sorted the ice and drinks it was time to set off. LSG had left us early to set some more of the trail so Beer Tits was left to give instructions…”follow arrows and the start is the way you came in.” Most of us could manage to follow these simple instructions all apart from Golden Balls and QT who turned up a bit late and then did a never ending loop around the back end of the village.

The first part of the run led us out of Pak Tin Kong towards the fields at the back. Simple enough although Liberace continuously and as usual lost trail numerous times leaving returnee Dram and Serbian Bomber to call correct trail. After a few checks in the village we quickly went off road into the first shiggy section. Even though this shiggy was head high it was relatively easy to get through as the hare had conveniently placed paper every 10 yards. We huddled together in the shiggy, Liberace at the front, Penile Dementia bringing up the rear, until we reached an opening and a three-way check. After some messing about we headed right, through a metal gate and then out passing some houses before sighting the hare sitting on a concrete block drinking a bottle of Somersby Cider.

The trail carried on straight towards  the rambo / wimps split. Most did the rambos which went to a check at the base of Lin Au and then right and up and up. This climb never gets any easier but once we got to the top we were rewarded with nice running trail along the top, through some dense shiggy before passing a trig point and then down.  Eventually we came out onto a path that led straight and back up another hill with Eunuch leading the way. As we left the hills for the last time a two-way split was crossed out and a massive “on on” was written on the ground with an arrow pointing the correct way. Now it seemed that somehow Eunuch managed to inadvertently miss this mark so he ran back telling Liberace where to go. However, Liberace, who clearly saw the markings and the on on suddenly proclaimed “I don’t believe, the trail must be this way and promptly ran back along the same section Eunuch had just come back from. Eunuch stood open mouthed as he watched Liberace run away from him, his light getting more faint and his shouts of “are you…are you!” getting lower and lower as he disappeared into the distance, completely off trail.

The correct trail led us out onto a long stretch of new road where we came across a man flying a drone. “Your friends went that way,” he stated whilst pointing right. A short run up and behind Pak Tin Kong and cold beer at last. The trail was about 5.5 kilometres and everyone got back within an hour and a half. Back at the buckets, QT had arrived and after we had all had a drink or two, time for the circle. As usual the circle was a noisy affair with down-downs flying left, right and centre…of note should be Phillip who was given a beverage for being co-hare. After the down-downs Beer Tits had prepared a chilli, which went down well and then it was time to end the evening. Must say this was a superb run that was organized by the Gow clan. Many thanks. On on. —Mango Groove

Hares: Luk Sup Gow, Phil

Runners Mango Groove, Liberace, Serbian Bomber, Golden Balls, QT, Gunpowder Plod, Geriatric, Stingray, Eunuch, Dram, ??

Non-runners Beer Tits, ??

Run 1939, 28 September, Tung Lo Wan Hill — The Saturday Run No. 24

Secret Garden

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The Weather
Hot, sunny and dry.
The Place
Tung Lo Wan Hill Garden, Tung Lo Wan Hill Road, Tai Wai
Getting There
Parking on meters opposite presented no problem as there were plenty of spaces and no PoPo appeared as they were busy in Hong Kong Island. However, our visitor Crazy German, walking from Tai Wai MTR, had to get directions from five locals, the last of whom, standing outside the gates to the garden, insisted that “there no garden here”.
The Briefing
The Hare, covered in flour and sweat, chalked up the markings in flour and chalk and told us there were both rambo and wimp runs but that the wimps was “short and boring”, prompting BJ, pointing at Stunt Double, to quip “Like him!”. (I heard later that Stunty tried to shunt BJ over a cliff on the run but was squewered by one of BJ’s poles for his efforts.)
The Run
Started at 1610hrs and I was behind at the first check, suspecting a trick. I was also behind at the second check and checked downhill the wrong way so I was on my own again at the back for most of the run but thankful that the front runners were marking checks.
After ascending many steps, we emerged in the tranquil grounds and buildings of the To Fung Shan christian retreat wheere an ecstatic Eunuch apparently went into paroxysms of giddy bliss when he realised that they were not Buddhist.
At the split on the steps beyond, bearing in mind the briefing, I chose the rambos, following the sound of giggling kids – Eunuch, Piss-in-Bucket and Ruth – below me. Down, down and down interminable steps went the trail beside a river in a ravine . Then finally over a bridge and up, up and up more interminable steps and slopes on the other side, passing temples and cottages and curious villagers.
A2
Then it appeared that the pack had been flummoxed by a check-back for a while before discovering a little shiggy path off to the left wherein were crossed-out gay-hash markings (Royal South Side) that could have been there for a year or more as they were scrawled on a vertical rain-sheltered surface and it became clear that nobody had used this track for ages.
A3
At least it was cool initially in the woods and I foolishly thought that the path would rejoin the concrete path further up. But no. Up and up and up it went, hottter and hotter and more airless it got and the hilltop ahead further and further away in the stifling shiggy. Finally I heard the squeaking of small voices ahead of me again and found Eunuch, Auntie Septic, Piss-in-Bucket and Ruth cavorting semi-naked in a pool. I was invited in but declined thinking that if I plunged in I might never get out again.
So I plodded on for the final 200 metres and emerged at a check marked left on a concrete path. This afforded splendid views down the valley to Shatin with temples in the forground.
I was finally able to break into a shuffle again and camed to another check with the trail leading down a shiggy path to the right which I handled quite well using my stick and bamboo for support. Here I was overtaken by a late-coming Mhd G-Spot and later by the Eunuch family.
Finally we hit a road past luxury houses and later a path which became so steep that I had to resort to walking backwards to save my knees. Thus it was that I returned in 1 hour 40 minutes, holding my red lantern and thinking that the briefing was somewhat inexplicit as to the true nature of the rambos…
The Circle
As not a single member of the N2TH3 mismanagement was present (other then webshite Golden Balls), the circle was ably and hilariously run by Liberace, who brought mismanagement lookalikes out one by one to punish. There were many other good down-downs awarded ……. but Mhd G-Spot called me in for “going backwards on trail” and renamed me “The Occidental Prune” – bloody cheek!
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The On On
Most of the pack repaired by car to Fo Tan for Tsing Tao and dead pigeon etc… —Gunpowder Plod
Hare Golden Balls
Runners Golden Jelly, Eunuch, Auntie Septic, Piss-in-Bucket, Ruth, Hoover, Stunt Double, BJ, Liberace, G-Spot, Gunpowder Plod, Walky Talky, Kannot Finnish, Crazy German

Run 1938,25 September, Shek Mun

Pony and Crap

My Little Pony

Did my usual trick of arriving just as the runners set off, only it should have been so much better. Left work early, got a tunnel bus and found myself at Hung Hom in plenty of time to catch the East Rail to Tai Wai and then the Ma On Shan line to Shek Mun. I’d even have enough time to change before we started. And it only got better – I managed to grab a seat for the East Rail sector.

So I joined the devolving human race in a hunched, myopic micro-examination of the delights of my mobile phone, emerging from that semi-comatose state as we pulled into the third station, Tai Wai. Why does it say Nam Cheong? Doh!

Anyway, the hare Stingray gave me a short cut that he said would get me “back in the game”, and indeed it did. After a jaunt along the Shing Mun nullah, trail started heading south toward the Lion Rock hills. In a little park where the parkie had tried his best to obliterate trail they caught me up. The “twail” of front-runner Liberace, with Eunuch bambiing along behind him, then Jason, and then some tall bloke who I later found out was visitor Crazy German. Mango Groove, Creme Brulee and Serbian Bomber followed on. Geriatric and Gunpowder Plod were also out on trail somewhere.

Stingray does love his closed checks and Ts, doesn’t he? And they kept the pack together pretty well. At a highway crossing I had the man go red on me and lost the pack, then lost the trail, so I intuited my way back to the park in Shek Mun that we’d started from, with Liberace charging past me on the on home. I finished with Eunuch. Geriatric, Plod and Crazy German were already there. Much later, Jason, Mango Groove and Creme Brulee trooped in, and then, much later, Serbian Bomber parping about his 11km run. Why was there such a gap?

Turned out that Liberace, first to the R/W split with Eunuch, had simply done his own trail because “that’s where we always go”. Even though there were no marks. Eunuch followed blindly. The actual rambo route went up to Tate’s Cairn Tunnel then along some apparently delightful trails on the mountainside before dropping back to Sha Tin. It’s been said before: never, EVER follow Liberace!

Back at the park, Back To The Future turned up having been unable to find the start, then Radio 1, to untooth accusations of us being a gay hash. With the top executives absent (Catch Of The Day on PR duty at the Rugby World Cup, One Eyed Jack on sick leave) Geriatric took the circle, assisted by Eunuch, whose suggestion that Jason be named Show Jumper (for his exhibitionist fence vaulting on the run) was rapidly corrupted by the circle to My Little Pony. Welcome, My Little Pony!

We weren’t finished, as Serbian Bomber took the reins and in inimitable fashion renamed Liberace Mango Groove and Mango Groove Liberace, then proceeded to award each a dozen down-downs. Could confuse a stupid person. For one night only. —Golden Balls

Hare Stingray

Runners Gunpowder Plod, Geriatric, Crazy German, Liberace, Eunuch, Golden Balls, My Little Pony, Mango Groove, Creme Brulee, Serbian Bomber

Non-runners Back To The Future, Radio 1