Run 1783, 7 January, Ma On Shan

The Mines of Ma-On-Shanria

 

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With hare One Eyed Jack’s admonition to bring torch, gloves and a change of clothes for The Saturday Run No. 10, this trail had all the makings of a corker. Anticipation was fanned further when he delivered the briefing. “There are side passages in there, they haven’t been recced so don’t go in them. When you hit the water, keep to the centre or the right,” to which Anus The Horrible quipped “Just think Michael Heseltine.” An effective enough ploy as it turned out.

By now it was obvious we were going into the fabled Mines of Ma-On-Shanria. “It’s 5.5km, half of it underground,” was the hares parting shot as the 15-strong pack set off. “But I didn’t come here to run in the dark,” whinged Mango Groove. “I do that on Wednesday nights.”

Vibrator couldn’t stay away, despite having run Braemar Hill in the morning and having entered the full Lantau Mountain Marathon the next day. Ben had returned, having taken more than a year to work up the courage to run with us again after his last appearance, when he set a record of 5 hours on trail – lost in the dark on Pat Sin Leng. And he’d brought along a friend, Leo. Stunt Double turned up for the 3pm start, having just got off a plane from Korea at 1. Even Eunuch was there muttering about jumping sharks – and he proved to be supertoughdad by taking his son down the mines.

A jog up the road for a kilometre or so past a couple of desultory checks ended with an abrupt dive left onto a trail through bushland and forest, emerging eventually at the bloked-off 240m (elevation) mine portal looking like some sort of troll’s letter box. Even more surprising, One Eyed Jack was sitting there with a camera. One by one we hoisted and posted ourselves through the slot into the heart of darkness. I went last, not wanting to get stuck and hold everybody up. No, Liberace went last as co-hare and sweeper.

Torches on. Weird scenes inside the iron mine. A tunnel high enough to walk upright in, a shaft filled with water, then suddenly a long long gravelly ramp down into the bowels of the Earth, aided by a fixed rope. I quickly caught Luk Dim Boon and Ben, who were using a bizarre backward-descending technique. After an age we entered a short flat section, then another ramp down, this one lined with the rusting remains of a narrow-gauge railway track. There was a lot of water and some parts were slippery and waterfally. I was reduced to a crab-like descent between the rail tracks with my torch clenched in my teeth.

Thus we came to the 110m level, which started off fairly dry but by the end of it, about 2 kilometres on, was flooded to the bowl of fruit level. I passed G Spot taking a photo of something, then Stingray, then Eunuch and Travis. On, on in the darkness. Just think of Michael Heseltine. Don’t think Michael Foot, that’s far left. Jog. Wade. Splash. There’s Dingaling taking a picture of me. And there’s the light at the end of the tunnel.

Good that the hare resisted the temptation to put checks in the mines. Don’t want to fall down those shafts…

I emerged with Luk Dim Boon through the two low portals at the 110m level entrance. A short path out to Ma On Shan Tsuen Road, then the slog back up to the barbecue pits from whence we had come. Needless to say, everybody passed me on the ascent and I came in just about the backmarker.

Non-runners Antiseptic, Overdue and Electrolux very kindly cooked up a fine spread of meaty comestibles and One Eyed Jack provided some fine discounted cheese that went very well with BJ’s 33% extra! wine for a feast worthy of the ravenous troglodytes that we were. Eunuch ran the circle most excellently, but for some reason kept on about jumping a shark. And the only down down I can remember was the hobbit one for Stunt Double and Anus The Horrible.

An excellent effort by all, and an outstanding hash that will long be remembered.

ANTISEPTIC, OVERDUE, ELECTROLUX, ONE EYED JACK, LIBERACE, VIBRATOR, MANGO GROOVE, BJ, ANUS THE HORRIBLE, STUNT DOUBLE, PENILE DEMENTIA, DINGALING, GOLDEN BALLS, EUNUCH, TRAVIS, STINGRAY, G SPOT, LUK DIM BOON, BEN, LEO

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PICTURES ONE EYED JACK, DINGALING, G SPOT

Run 1782, 4 January 2017, Ping Kong

The Silent Hash

SSSSHHHH! Mango, bless him, had produced an ear-friendly rather than noisy run.

Starting at the quiet village at the end of Ping Pong Kong Road this was to be the Silent Hash. SSSHHHH.

Keep out of the village and find a nice quiet place to park. No need for a noisy briefing, the village security are already getting a bit twitchy, Liberace your van reversing warning sounds like late-night Miami Vice.

“When you see ‘Please be quiet’, be quiet.”… So we’re cutting across the golf course, we thought. “I’ve had a word with the beast handlers already.”… So we’re running through Beas River Stables.

SHHHH. On On … keep together and no shouting. Ping Kong Village and on to OnPo. Checks, paths, streams … Dogs, dogs … keep those dogs quiet, absolutely no barking.

Here’s a little old lady handing out sticks of Brighton Rock ???? SSSSHHHH. No calling, no screaming, we have animals … cattle, donkeys, paddocks … do not disturb. There can be no risk of a stampede.

There’s trail up the mountain. SSSHHH. On on quietly. On up silently.

No calling, the trees trembled in the cool breeze of the frosty winter’s night.

The pack spread far and wide over the ridge … no calls of on … no sound of checkbacks.

Chong Tsin Leng beckons … a world without sound where Silence is Golden … Balls charging down.

The Trail crossed to Ching Ho Estate, accross the rapids of the Wet Willy river. The water flowed silently, the pack ran without a murmer, only a carefully stifled “On…SSSSHHH…on” to be heard.

Back in the earie desolate Ping Pong village the pack starts to shuffle back in. Hash Cash whispers her demands. The Circle is hushed up … Mango is cut to pieces for his outrageous use of Hash time. Catch of Day sweeps the awards for Best and Worst Run of 2016 … and a struggling chicken swims slowly around in a Velcro Lipped curry sauce before being silently devoured by the silent masses of Hong Kong’s soundless Hash. – Stingray

MANGO GROOVE,LIBERACE,  EUNUCH, GAELE SAYS NO, STINGRAY, DINGALING, GOLDEN BALLS, QT, VELCRO LIPS, GOLDEN JELLY, SERBIAN BOMBER, GERIATRIC, DRAM, BUNTER, CATCH OF THE DAY, LITTLE OLD LADY HANDING OUT STICKS OF BRIGHTON ROCK

Run 1781, 28 December, Tai Mo Shan

Earth, Wind & Fire

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Arriving early for the run I headed for the conveniences, where I was somewhat disarmed to see a sort of Patrick Stewart meets Alf Garnett vaguely hippyish gwailo cottager loitering around the cubicles. Even more disarming, I recognised him. “You’ve run with us before, haven’t you?” I ventured. “Vibrator?” he offered to my consternation, before I realised that was his name. “Golden Balls,” I returned. Thank god there was nobody around to witness this exchange.

It was cold and windy and the start of the run resembled a dogging venue, with steamed-up car windows galore, and indeed hare Serbian Bomber had ensconced himself in Catch Of The Day’s jalopy where he could be seen gesticulating wildly. Some fat bloke in a flash BMW turned up but nobody paid any attention because none of us can afford a BMW. Then QT got out, the only man in the hash under 30 – and apparently the wealthiest. Eunuch glided in serenely followed by the Liberace batmobile – and that was it.

Thus the GM/hare got the pack off on time at 7.30 after delivering a strange briefing. “It’s short and there’s lots of checks. NO SHIGGY! No wimps’ trail. Flour, chalk and toilet paper. Two marks and you’re on, except for paper, which is one and you’re on.”

Did I say he got the pack off on time? I lied. Expecting the usual faffing, I’d put off getting changed until the last moment; it was cold. So as the pack set off I was still changing. As I frantically slung my jacket into the car my iPhone described an aerial parabola from pocket to parking lot. When I rescued it from under the car beneath which it had slid I beheld a beautiful screen pattern of fractured glass. I think there’s a lesson in there somewhere.

I soon caught up with the pack, who seemed to be traipsing aimlessly back and forth through trackless forest yelling “Are you?” at one another. Bizarre. Then I found out why. The hare wasn’t lying when he said there were loads of checks. They were so thick on the ground you could trip over them. And they all had toilet paper trail heading off into the forest, and then…nothing. Round and round we went, solving and re-solving checks. The sound of cracking wood as we pushed into the impenetrable was accompanied by exclamations (mainly from QT) of “F*ck!”, “Sh*t!”, and “F*cking wanker!”

Things continued in this vein for about 20 minutes until we found trail heading north up a hill. Checks came thick and fast and toilet paper came thicker and faster. A descent through bamboo. A stream crossing. Up the hill again, where QT and I fell behind because QT, in his wisdom, and knowing the Northern NT’s penchant for proper shiggy, had decided to wear the smoothest-soled shoes in creation. Needless to say they were absolutely no bloody use on the steep, slippery terrain and he kept falling over and sliding backwards into me. More effing and blinding.

Quite soon we found the on home and were greeted by the sight of Eunuch, Vibrator and Liberace picking up wood. “Catch Of The Day’s started a fire,” they said, as if this explained their behaviour. And so it was. On crutches after ankle surgery, she’d elected not to run, and instead spent the time doing press-ups, sit-ups and arson. Serbian Bomber and Eunuch conducted a circle round the blazing pit. Highlights were the inevitable crutch jokes after COTD’s ankle surgery, the singing of the Quo song “Down Down” in memory of Rick Parfitt, and the display of the Liberace Christmas Day pranking photo.

Run over in less than an hour, really interesting trail, a fire and great craic – an excellent hash. – Golden Balls

SERBIAN BOMBER, CATCH OF THE DAY, VIBRATOR, GOLDEN BALLS, QT, EUNUCH, LIBERACE
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The pranking

Run 1780, 21 December, Yuen Long

The Un-Canny Scotchman

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After

The shrivelled ranks of six diehards that couldn’t afford to go on holiday gathered at the usual park near Yoho on a dreary winter solstice made more miserable by unseasonal rain, but hare Dram was upbeat. “It shouldna tae ye moor than 45 minutes,” he scotched at us, “so we can finish early and go to the daipaidong. Trail’s marked in chalk, flour and a wee bit of paper. Awa wi ye!”

At this point Alen arrived with two virgins – no, not Hendrik and Regina but Paco and Nina, who looked on doubtfully as Dram repeated his briefing. Probably wondering what they’d got themselves into.

Trail dutifully headed north along the nullah before a bit of a steep mud traverse got us into the tunnel under the highway. So far so good. The pack was together, the virgins were getting the hang of it and the markings were plentiful. Then they disappeared, and we remembered the hare’s parting comment, a mumbled “There was a downpour just as I finished setting the run but if you buggers think I’m going out to set it again…”

Thus it was for the next hour we stumbled around the villages and tracks north of Yuen Long, for the main part lost in the dark but illuminated by the occasional siting of an arrow, something that might once have been flour, or a sodden bit of tissue wedged in chicken wire. Numerous false leads were counterbalanced by the uncanny trail-finding prowess of Golden Jelly and Alen, and we eventually emerged opposite Pok Oi Hospital for the long run in. The upside of the confusion was that it became a proper hash, with everybody getting back within five minutes of each other.

Eunuch conducted a brief hilarious circle, during which we learned that Nina is from Switzerland and is also Alen’s sister, and Paco studies philosophy but has never heard of Monty Python. The circle ended when the cans of beer ran out, as the canny scotchman had deliberately undersupplied in order to get us to the daipaidong in time. At least that’s his story.

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Before
EUNUCH, STINGRAY, GOLDEN JELLY, G-SPOT, LIBERACE, DRAM, GOLDEN BALLS, T-BIRD, ALEN, PACO, NINA

Run 1779, 14 December, Tai Po

Traipsing   Scraping   Vaping

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We “train”, we get mentally focused, we get our bodies in prime (or should it be non-prime) condition for this one event of the year…yes, the pub run. Given that we are the only hash in Hong Kong to have such an event as the centrepiece of its annual calendar really does say a lot about the N2TH3.

For the past couple of years, our performance on the pub run has not been very good, in fact it has been crap, barely scraping through 10 bars before everyone gets the last MTR home. However, this year, In the absence of the GM, GM2 Eunuch had high hopes of doing well, making sure that he had taken the following day off just in case he got a little over hydrated. Stingray also wanted to get things going early, avoiding the mistakes of previous years, by getting too comfortable in one of the early bars and then losing interest. On the subject of Stingray, he does like his singing and decided to prepare song sheets for all. Not content with singing about Shepherds washing their socks and Santa Claus “coming” in town, Stingray had three football songs at the ready, much to the delight of anyone that supports, Liverpool, West Ham or Arsenal.

And so it was:

Bar number 1: Kings Belly. This week’s scribe has decided to record this as the first bar, because most who showed up had a quick drink before the off time at 7pm. Kicking off from the King’s Belly were Bunter (Cue?), Geriatric, Luk Dim Boon, Stingray, Eunuch, Golden Balls, Liberace, QT, Big Moany and Mango Groove. After having a hastily gathered collection, Mango set off to mark the next bar.

Bar number 2: Bobby London. This bar looks exactly the same as it did 30 years ago. A glass of beer was at the ready for the crew, we were in, we were out, 10 minutes. Things were looking good as a stick of chalk was handed to Big Moany with the instruction please do not take us up and over Cloudy Hill tonight.

Bar Number 3: Hippo: Perfect. Just round the corner from the Bobby. Six bottles of Carlsberg were waiting for us which we rapidly consumed. Golden Balls received a call from Sticky, she was on the train and would be joining us soon.

Bar Number 4: TFS. Nice bar, very quiet. Once Sticky had joined us we quickly moved on. Well actually we didn’t because LDB had to run back to get his e-cigarette (something that would occur on numerous occasions throughout the evening). Now this week’s scribe has been in the UK for a few months this past year and can report that this e-cigarette thing is getting very popular, commonly referred to as vaping. You can get all sorts of “flavours” for your vaping needs, most of which smell like a cake shop. On that note, every time LDB exhaled it smelt like Starbucks…really. We were looking good, four bars covered and not even 8 o’clock.

Bar Number 5: 133 Lounge: Some quick drinking in here, Eunuch pulled out his balloons and Bunter and Geriatric were nominated to mark the next part of trail.

Bar Number 6: Bar King Lounge: we were running out of cash, so another round of collection was needed. Nobody complained, nobody cared cos we were moving baby…our training was finally beginning to yield rewards. Oh yes, LDB had to go back again for his e-cigarette.

Bar Number 7: Bar Pacific: Golden Balls got sexy on the karaoke, impressing everyone but the hash because they had swiftly moved on to the next bar once he had started.

Bar number 8: Gili Galu: This was not the same Gili Galu as previous years as it appeared to have been chopped in half, but nonetheless we got the beer, drank it and moved on.

Bar number 9: Muso: Lots of singing in this bar. QT was not impressed with our rendition of You’ll Never Walk Alone. Eunuch was hungry and so was everyone else. We needed something to “mop” up the copious amounts of beer we were drinking so Eunuch made a quick dash to Pizza Box.

Bar number 10: Beer Fish: Finally we made double figures, albeit with astronomically priced “craft” beer. Eunuch got the pizzas, we munched through them quick time and headed to the next bar.

Bar number 11: Sky: More bottled Carlsberg and more quick drinking, our pace wasn’t flagging, we were holding form and looking good. We resembled a finely tuned fighting machine, sort of a mix between the gallant fighting men from the movie 300 and that other movie Fat Boys from Feltham Green.

Bar number 12: NOC NOC: More singing in here, then Liberace had to leave as he had a job on and Stingray also left the party citing an early start the following morning. Our numbers had fallen but our spirits remained high.

Bar Number 13: Here: It was getting near 11, Geriatric had to leave as he had a fair distance to travel back to Sai Kung. The rest of us were still on our feet and then someone handed chalk to Mango.

Bar Number 14: 7-11: Thinking that it would be great to have a quick circle, Mango went into 7-11 and bought a rather large quantity of beer, stacking it on the pavement outside. It was a lovely evening and the remaining pub runners were pleased to stand outside and get a little oxygen in their lungs. It was a very jovial circle led by Eunuch and Luk Dim Boon. As the down downs were being distributed lo and behold the rozzers showed up. We noticed them but just kept going until they told us to keep the noise down, at which point we promptly headed for the next bar.

Bar Number 15: After 5: As we walked in, a group of younglings – five girls, one boy – were sitting in the corner. These were going to prove to be our undoing. The ladies were rather nice, three of them were Japanese and they seemed to take a keen interest in what we were doing. We all tried our various chat up lines, but as usual failure ensued. It was now late and we had to say goodbye to Bunter and QT. Thinking that this was the last bar, LDB ordered a round of some “dark” beer that himself, Eunuch, Mango and GB consumed quick time before GB departed with Sticky – and Eunuch announced he was going to drive home. Yes, you heard that correct. As we walked out of The After 5 in search of the Eunuch wagon, another 7-11, next to the Jockey Club, was sighted.

Bar Number 16: 7-11 Again: Rushing inside, the last men standing grabbed a quick can, drank it and then headed home. Must admit not a bad pub run: 16 establishments covered by 11 hashers.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all. – Mango Groove

BUNTER, GERIATRIC, LUK DIM BOON, STINGRAY, EUNUCH, GOLDEN BALLS, LIBERACE, QT, BIG MOANY, MANGO GROOVE, STICKY APID

 

 

 

Run 1778, 7 December, Fanling Cow Pat

Chewing the Cud at the Cow Pat

A brief discussion of the nature of time and space pertaining to run number 1778

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Mango caddishly fleeing into the night

We gathered together at Fanling Cow Pat to find that hare Eunuch was still somewhere out there, setting trail. Much perturbed, we worried about who would guard the beer, but fortunately Lok Sup Gow was able to step up for this arduous task.

D-Ram appears to be plotting very early to be next year’s GM. He turned up carrying a very girly handbag to tote all of his paraphernalia on the run; mobile phone, taxi money, lipstick. Velcro offered to run with him so that he could pretend he was being gentlemanly by carrying her bag on the run.

At 7:30, as we were about to call a start to the run, we suddenly realized that returnee Alen (an exchange student from Borduria or Syldavia or thereabouts) had brought along two virgins, Hendrik and Regina. And so, we actually needed to give a real briefing with real instructions. Both virgins sounded very excited to take the challenge of running the rambo’s trail, despite dire warning of shaggy and thorns.

And so, off we went.

D Ram, Cue and Geriatric rapidly set off for the rear, where they could keep an eye on Regina’s ass. You should have heard the complaints and fuss they raised when she ran off into the distance.

Liberace had a different plan. Having guessed that our visitors were keen runners, his strategy was to stay close, by being the FRB. It was noticeable he stayed extremely close all the way through the circle too.

I took advantage of having visitors to explain the origins of my name to fresh, unsuspecting victims. For those regular hashers who might have forgotten, let me remind you that my name, Serbian Spammer Bomber Baron Diver von Mooseheime came about by… [ED: By manipulating the parameters of time and space, we are able to skip about 30 minutes, almost to the very end of Serbian’s explanation.] … carpet action.

Trail led from the Cowpat, across the railway line and to the hills. Yes, you read that correctly. Trail. In a stunning break with recent tradition, our hare used actual chalk, flour and toilet paper to mark an easy to find trail. So much trail that even Liberace failed to lose the way, although he did manage to find all the checkbacks.

Trail crossed the railway, the highway and went into Fanling north of Wo Hop Shek. Suddenly, about 2km into the run, I staggered to a halt, as I realized that I had forgotten to turn on my GPS. By the time I had fixed this and secured my phone back into its pouch, the rest of the rambos were out of sight. Deciding not to wait for the laggardly wimps, I pressed ahead and soon caught up with Golden Balls and QT as we entered the mazy paths in the foothills of the cemetery. A thunderclap of a fart from GB spurred QT and me to speed up, in search of cleaner air. Dead birds, insects, spiders and lizards fell from the trees. My back was aching from the effort as we climbed (this run was my first exercise since surgery) but in utter desperation and terror I struggled to go faster and stay far enough ahead of the noxious emanations. At last, as I crested the hill and followed trail through forest I caught up with the back of the pack.

It was the old gurkha trail that we last did several years ago – thick vegetative shiggy leading to open forest. The hare Eunuch had obviously dropped his toilet roll on the trail, only to have it seized by a pack of wild dogs that playfully unrolled it all the way down the hill, tearing off lengths as they wrestled for control to see which dog would win and carry the prize, all the while chased by Eunuch. I have no other suggestion to explain the over-enthusiastic abundance of paper festooning every tree on the way down.

Despite heaviness of the trail markings, Mango managed to fool Catch Of The Day, claiming that there was a checkback. There is some confusion here too, as COTD claims that this happened while she was watching Mango’s ass while Mango claims that he was watching COTD’s ass. To explain this phenomenon, how they could each be following the other down the hill, it is necessary to step into a brief discourse of the nature of time and space and dimensions and consider that they may in fact have been running in parallel universes. There are various metaphysical constructs that could also be used to explain… [ED: Once again, by manipulating the parameters of time and space, we are able to move forward, this time by about 2 hours, to the end of Serbian’s explanation.] … leading to “shenanigans” on the trail. On completion, Mango caddishly abandoned COTD and fled into the night.

As the trail emerged from the forest, at the point where Eunuch gave up hope of recovering his lost toilet paper, reverting to marking trail in chalk and flour, short-cutter QT was observed failing to follow trail along the make-shift pedestrian ramp, instead running parallel, along the roadworks. Our visitors were being goody-two shoes and conscientiously kept to the trail at this point. Quickly we crossed over the railway and followed the trail home.

Some runners were triggered by Eunuch’s micro-aggression where he had scrawled “On home you crazy mothers” across the path. D Ram and Geriatric were so incensed that they stopped to take photos of themselves reading this offensive message. I have no doubt we will soon be reading yet another irate letter to the South China Morning Post.

Once home, COTD put mulled wine on a gas burner while we waited for the final runners to get home.

Disappointingly, nobody got lost; nobody was out there hours after the pack finished; and the wimps and rambos finished about the same time. Our hare needs to learn to introduce more chaos and confusion.

This week Hash Cash Velcro lips remembered to collect cash before the circle started. Circle started promptly. Down-downs included:

  • Hare Eunuch for excessive trail markings;
  • Hare Eunuch for triggering the runners with his sexist markings;
  • D Ram and Geriatric for being triggered;
  • Luk Sup Gow and Alen as returnees;
  • Hendrik and Regina for being virgins and Alen for bringing them. At first, Hendrik was reluctant to step up and admit to being a virgin, but with COTD’s offer to assist him in his journey to manhood, he thrust himself forward. The customary questions ensued (although our RA appeared too embarrassed to ask them for the intimate details of their sex lives. Fortunately GB stepped in to cover this) and we discovered that Hendrik was an engineering student and planned to be unemployed and Regina was studying human biology as she planned to become a vet. Hendrik claimed to have last had sex mumble and Regina carefully counted back before announcing that she last had sex in July. Next week’s Christmas Pub Run will be the last chance to rut, sorry, run, with Alan, Hendrik and Regina (if they turn up) before they return to their home countries;
  • Racialist abuse of Sheik Mango for wearing his rag-head gear in circle;
  • Sheik Mango for actually wearing his rag-head gear as a makeshift bandage after banging his head and seeing stars on trail;
  • Mango following an official criminal complaint from COTD for his tricking her with his fraudulent call of checkback, and Mango and COTD for attempting to confuse the circle as to exactly who was gazing longingly at whose ass before they disappeared off-trail into the bushes;
  • D Ram and Velcro for planning pre-crime, cooking up ways to cheat (worse yet – cheat on the wimps run) before we even set off ;
  • D Ram, Plod and QT for bringing comfy stools to sit on in circle;
  • D Ram, Cue and Geriatric for gossiping like old washer women (again);
  • Regina for using her knowledge of human biology to confirm that the photo of the item surgically removed from Serbian’s back was in fact a knob;
  • Serbian for excessive running, running up hill, calling trail and generally helping other hashers on the trail. Our hash religious advisor, St. Ingray, blames Liberace for this sudden decline in Serbian’s character, behaviour and performance;
  • QT for not being able to tell the difference between Stingray and God, getting the two confused not once, not twice, but three times whilst on the run;
  • Velcro for her diligence in collecting hash cash from Alen. He had tried to claim exemption from hash cash on the grounds of being a girl but, carrying out a quick pat-down search, Velcro discovered that he was playing hide the sausage;
  • GB for taking Golden Jelly to a “Love is a Many Splendored Thing” couple’s 2-hour spa and claiming that he did it under duress as it was his duty in his line of work; and
  • GB (called out by One Eyed Jack) for excessive seasonal snow on the website.

As the circle drew to an end up strode Julian, who passed by at around the same time at our last Cow Pat run a few weeks ago. It only took a couple of beers for him to offer to host a run from his rooftop barbecue just around the corner. Yes, we’ll be taking you up on that! Finally the circle closed with announcements about:

  • Saturday’s tram party (and on after at Taboo). For those people that prefer to enjoy a cold shower rather than spending time eating, drinking, dancing and fornicating, Plod has arranged an alternative with a Sai Kung Hash Run;
  • Next week’s pub run meeting at 6:45 in the King’s Belly in Tai Po. After a quick discussion on the current state of hash cash, and the likely sudden appearance of many people we only see once a year, the committee has decided that this year’s pub run will start with a $200 contribution to the night’s kitty with a further contribution if we exhaust that; and lastly
  • Eunuch’s calling out the GM as gay. Eunuch was pleasantly surprised with the GM’s response to this, as he chased him down for a quick snog.

As a final remark, COTD has now taught us that the Japanese word for vagina is “o-chinko”. Use this knowledge wisely. – Serbian Bomber

Attended by Cue, D Ram, Geriatric, Velcro Lips, QT, Golden Balls, Serbian Bomber, Catch Of The Day, Liberace, Mango Groove, Stingray, One Eyed Jack, Gunpowder Plod, Alen, Hendrik, Regina, Eunuch, Luk Sup Gow, Julian

 

 

 

 

 

 

Run 1777, 30 November, Hong Lok Yuen

The Curious Case of the Hare and the Missing Trail

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Circle underway with several runners still on trail

Inspired by the chaos of recent months, where Catch of the Day set a run but forgot to brief us about her nonstandard markings (two pink ribbons tied to a railing as a check), and Liberace set a run though locked gates and barbed wire entanglements, hare Luk Dim Boon made a spirited attempt to revive now infamous accolade:

“I hate this run very much…don’t do such stupid thing again”

He may very well have succeeded in reaching a new low, setting the run with the worst markings ever.

We had been pre-warned that the hare would be still out, setting trail, at 7:30. And, so it was. But the hare’s sending his domestic helper to give the briefing and guard the bags and perform a strip show was something new. Since I was recovering from recent (successful) surgery to remove a spare todger I would be a non-runner, able to guard the bags myself, and so we sent Juliet home.

At 7:30, I ran the pack through the hare’s briefing again (except for Vecro Lips who insisted she had been listening but could only repeat someone else’s comment, not the actual briefing). At 7:32 off the pack went. As they left, Catch of the Day was the first to call “Trail!”; possibly the only time she saw trail all night.

Latecomers, arriving in dribs and drabs over the next 10 minutes, included Cue, QT, One Eyed Jack, Salesman, Liberace (who got lost in his van looking for 11th street despite the hare’s clear instructions on how to find the start at 20th Street). Last to arrive for the run was Golden Balls, who failed to recognize the inherent irony in his approval of the pack’s setting off on time.

Being St Andrew’s day, Luk Dim Boon went with a Scottish theme for the evening, and provided no chalk to mark checks. He also tried to use as little chalk as possible for his trail markings. On the rare occasions when he did bother to mark the trail, the markings were so faint as to be missed by many of the runners.

Consequently, One Eyed Jack, Salesman and Catch Of The Day all returned to the start within 30 minutes, having failed to solve the first check. Bravely they all set off again, shortcutting towards the main gate.

Next to appear was the hare, Luk Dim Boon, checking to how the start went, before disappearing back onto his trail to wash away some more markings (he claims he was resetting it, having laid parts of it three days earlier). On his way out, he was observed picking up Catch Of The Day, and witnesses claim to have seen them enjoying sex in the back of his jag, before he dropped her further along the trail. They must have been going at it for some time, because COTD was the very last of the runners to return, nearly two and a half hours after the start.

Wimp trail was a jaunt around the villagesnorth of Hong Lok Yuen, while rambos went up a virgin shiggy trail to the top of Wo Hop Shek cemetery. Those that actually got to this part of the run said it was an excellent shiggy trail well marked. Trail then (apparently) went to Tai To Yan then down the gurkha road to Lam Tsuen.

First to return home, giving up on the run, was Cue, utterly failing to find his way out of the Hong Lok Yuen estate despite actually living there. Next back was Gunpowder Plod, claiming to have completed the wimps trail, although it was subsequently revealed that the hare had caught him returning from another direction completely. Following close behind were shortcutters D Ram, Geriatric, and Velcro.

While we waited for the rambos to drag their tardy arses back home, QT was generously offering sweets to one and all (hash beer Plod having forgotten to buy any crisps). Only after we had eaten QT’s sweets did someone have the sense to ask if they were his, at which point he revealed he had found them on the ground. D Ram was keen to point out that he was “no longer the oldest hasher” claiming that this mantle now belonged to geriatric. On further questioning, this was called into doubt. Who is older, D Ram or Geriatric? And Plod confessed that he is only nice to his wife when he is high on morphine.

Mango was the first of the rambos to return (but only if you count returning in a taxi as completing the run). Stingray received acclamation for being the first real rambo to return, but it seems that he too took a wrong turn somewhere with Golden Balls and they did a long-cut down to the bottom of Wo Hop Shek instead of following real trail. Gaele Says No was the next back, again, by a different route.

Around this time, the entertainment arrived. Luk Dim Boon had kindly organized a troupe of local dancers to perform their well-choreographed routine to Mandarin pop songs, prancing and twirling next to us, while we waited for more rambos to return. This greatly disturbed D Ram who until then had been chatting up some of the helpers walking dogs in the vicinity.

Finally, a little over two hours after the start, when Eunuch finally dragged himself back from the run, I decided that enough was enough and called the circle to order, although Salesman, Liberace and COTD were still out there. But this first attempt to start the circle was interrupted by Velcro, crying out that she had not yet collected hash cash.

A few minutes later, the circle did get going despite some hashers (special snowflakes) worries that the missing three would be upset (triggered) by our starting without them. Nonsense. It’s happened to me enough times. We are not going to turn the circle into a “safe space”.

The hare was awarded multiple down downs for setting such a crappy run and for generally being a complete fuckwit. As the hare drank from a “yard” provided by Plod (to be precise, the hare called it a yard; the rest of us called it a foot-long) we began to understand just why the hare’s distance-based instruction that “If you run 80 metres and you don’t find trail, then you’re off trail” may have been one of the most meaningless instructions ever.

The hare was also awarded a down down for the fact that every single runner of the larger than usual pack had their own version of the trail they had followed. No two runners had managed to follow the same route. Not on the wimps, and not on the rambos. It is quite possible that not one runner actually managed to find and follow the true trail for the whole run. From this, I have deduced that the hare did not set a complete run, and, in fact, he only set half a trail and decided to bluff his way through by telling the pack that they just failed to follow his run instructions. You can call me Sherlock.

Halfway through the circle, Salesman then Liberace and finally Catch of the Day returned. Liberace couldn’t join the circle at first, due to a highly localised incident of volcanism. This was in stark contrast to COTD who did join the circle immediately, deliriously happy but tremble-kneed and barely able to stand unsupported, after her in-run “lift” from the hare.

Other down downs awarded during the circle included:

  • D Ram for talking non-stop like an old washer woman while (not) following trail;
  • Golden Balls for spying on the hare;
  • Golden Balls for taking advantage of D Ram’s obtaining trail tips from locals and for not correcting the wrongly marked check when he changed direction because of these tips (D Ram would have shared this down down except he had disappeared, probably to help “walk a dog”);
  • Plod (hash beer) for providing a magic beer can (sealed but only half-full and foul when opened);
  • D Ram for writing yet more letters of complaint to the SCMP;
  • Plod for new shoes;
  • Luk Dim Boon for smoking a fat Cuban cigar, Golden Balls for looking like Castro, and Mango for looking like Che Guevara;
  • Luk Dim Boon for finally getting it up (does this mean he needs to be renamed?);
  • Gaele Says No for excessive athleticism;
  • Golden Balls for dressing up like a pirate;
  • Myself (Serbian Spammer Bomber Baron Diver von Mooseheime) for only having one todger, the second having been surgically removed;
  • Catch Of The Day for attempted assassination of the GM (attempted drowning by making me laugh while I was drinking a down down from Plod’s “yard”); and
  • Many, many, many other down downs too.

Switching hats from hare to RA, Luk Dim Boon also awarded many, many down downs. The first of these turned out to be a mistake when LDB called out Geriatric as a visitor only to discover that this was his second consecutive week in attendance and, furthermore, Geriatric was wearing N2TH3 gear. Beer and medication mixed together means that I have no recollection of the RA’s other down downs. I do remember circle going on for quite a long time (over one and a half hours) with the 18-strong circle from time to time devolving into a lot of private circles (usually involving either Velcro or Mango).

Finally the GM and RA were awarded down downs for holding an excessively long circle.

The hare has threatened to set another run in the near future. I despair. Somebody please educate him on how to follow trail rather than just following the other runners, then we can hope he might actually use some chalk, flour and paper when setting trail. – Serbian Bomber