Run 1684, 21 March 2015, Sham Tseng Reservoir – The Saturday Run No. 6

The HorrorIMG_4301

“Saturday runs were instigated to encourage people to join the hash, see what it’s all about. A nice, gentle introduction, nothing too arduous. A little bit of fun.”

These comforting words from Golden Balls haunted me as I scrambled up the sheer rock face, heart pounding, one hour in to what proved to be a two-hour marathon of steep climbs, vertigo-inducing ascents and a mind-bending puzzle of checks and check-backs. To add to the fun, another race had been set in the area, also using chalk markers. Perfect for the novice hasher.

Joining the fray that day were Gunpowder Plod, Walkie Talkie, Farty Pants, Golden Balls, Penile Dementia, Dingaling, Mango Groove, Velcro Lips, One Eyed Jack, Overdue, newbie Last One (who has been expecting to join another hash, no doubt more civilised), and myself – the piss artist formerly known as Nick. More of that later.

It all seemed harmless enough to begin with, a bit of a jog through some sort of outdoor activity centre, and into some thick scrub. The trails, for now at least, were well marked. But soon came the ascent. Mango and I passed Velcro and Last One, the latter of which, admitted between gasps, that she’d been following the “clever one”. I looked up to see One Eyed Jack. Not him then. Who is this Clever One? Could it be Sam, the dog. He’d made more correct choices than most of us (particularly Mango) at the checks. At this point Gunpowder Plod bailed out and sniffed his way back home in 1:25. How he came to be smeared in blood he wasn’t saying.

On On. And on, and on, and on. One of many check-backs at the top – Mango ran the wrong way, a move that came to typify his modus operandi for this run. Shouts from Dingaling and it was back on trail. Then some country park road and some nice views of the reservoir, before another confusing check. I was ahead at this point, and began dreaming of being the first back. Scenes of adoring scantily clad babes welcoming back the conquering hero, me. Yes, I could do it. I was delirious at this point, of course. But Mango and I headed the wrong way, and by the time we heard the call, were well behind. Mango regained ground, but I was done for, and after yet more checks and check-backs, and many mutterings about underhand failures to mark the way, limped back in. Last One lived up to her name, coming in with Velcro a few minutes later.

The circle, then. Among the punishments meted out was one for Balls, for setting such a heinous run on a Saturday and some sort of excuse involving “his band”. Dingaling and myself for musing upon Anne Boleyn’s extra tit while teacher was talking, and Mango for not marking the way. Other miscreants included One Eyed Jack – two down-downs – something to do with not marking the trail again? Balls again for making his long-suffering helper bring him his lunch and hair products, only to be summarily dismissed for a long walk back to his gaff, clutching his sweaty gear. Velcro for ignoring the option of taking the wimps’ trail, and another for Dingaling, for working on the railways but sporting a watch an hour slow. “That wasn’t two hours!” he exclaimed, ignoring the sun sinking like a ship to the west.

And then my naming ceremony. A play on my surname led to Annus Horribilis; from that, Anus Horribilis (who would have guessed at the Annus/Anus pun, eh?) and from that the truly delightful Anus the Horrible. Like Ivan the Terrible, with haemorrhoids.

I could have stayed at home that day, done a bit of pottering around the flat, a beer or two at the beach bar later. But I instead chose to spend the day with a bunch of low lifes, drink too much and then be daubed with an arse-themed moniker into the bargain. Thanks, Mango. Thanks a lot, mate.

The On On at some greasy goose restaurant in Sam Tseng, copious Asahi and more good fun and banter.

Not a bad Saturday. Not a bad Saturday at all.

– Anus The Horrible


Run 1683, 18 March 2015, Tai Lam Tunnel Car Park

Barking On Trailfalse trail

The Run Humidity has begun to take over Hong Kong reminding Penile Dementia of his hare duties. Mango Groove was the first to arrive where he received serious slobbery tongue action by “the ugliest bulldog I’ve ever seen.” The crew met outside the toilets of Tai Lam Tunnel car park and there were early whispers in the air of plundering Velcro Lips’ “private” stash of Asahi. Trail went out towards Ho Pui village but within 15 minutes everyone was lost, confused by the false trails at a double T junction. One Eyed Jack went down a dirt road only to not call back and was never seen again. The confusion that ensued did keep everyone together and allowed the latecomers, Liberace and Catch Of The Day (and her puppy, I Ro Ha Ni Ho He To, a name which “100 percent of Japanese people will know”) time to join the search. But when the check was eventually solved it split the pack into two with Liberace, Velcro Lips, Mango Groove and Sticky Apid Bottom Exudate (and ??) getting a jump on Walky Talky, Golden Balls and Catch Of The Day. Trail was found meandering past barking dogs, narrow walkways, big stairs and kilometres of flat road running before a dirt trail back to the toilets.
The Circle One Eyed Jack was the first to get a down-down for his shitty calls. Golden Balls was called out for imitating a barking deer in the forest and scaring the GM. Then Velcro Lips discovered her beloved Asahi in the hands of Golden Balls, Mango Groove and Catch of the Day. Mango was caught asking inappropriate questions, and found out that if Sticky Apid Bottom Exudate could chose anyone in the circle to lose her virginity to it would be Catch Of The Day. Non-runner Eunuch forgot to let Catch of the Day and Liberace into his house to collect the buckets, causing them to be late which resulted in double buckets as Velcro Lips had brought some as well. It also led to Liberace kicking down Eunuch’s gate when he couldn’t get in. Eunch announced he will be on hiatus for two months with a sore Achilles under doctor’s orders. Mango keenly observed that Eunch’s previous injuries have resulted in pregnancy announcements. Everyone thought Penile Dementia was a new runner and hare. It turns out Penile Dementia forgot he’d been hashing circa 1974, accumulating over 2,000 runs. Even with 2,000 runs of experience, Penile Dementia is still slow with down-down refills.
– Sticky Apid Bottom Exudate