Report to come (G-Spot)
Hare: Dingaling
Runners: Liberace, G-Spot, Walky Talky, Golden Balls, Eunuch, Motor Mouth
Non-runners: Luk Sup Gow, Mango Groove, Golden Jelly, 69K, Sam Miguel, Tight Clit, Fartypants, QT,
Month: August 2017
Run 1818, 6 August, Sha Kok Estate
The Piss Bucket
Having been orf for a while with the dreaded lurgy, I decided to show up for what I thought was to be a gentle trail set by Golden Jelly only to learn that I had misread the run notice and it was to be set instead by the dreaded Liberace!
The run notice said “Start: Pagoda in Sha Kok Estate between Sand Martin House and Osprey House” so having found a parking spot, I joined Mango, Dingaling and Penile Dementia under a ramshackle mushroom in said location.
We were then joined by two Septics who had gone to Sha Tin MTR and then walked from there; large green male and a smaller pink female, very jolly, bagless, waterless, torch-less and borderline clueless visitors from Singapore’s Lion City Hash – Pool Boy and Secret Swinger.
Then a panting Golden Balls showed up telling us to move to another location near the dai pai dongs where we joined the hare and pack in a shelter. The hare shortly announced “This is my shortest run ever; one run, chalk, flour and paper, front runners 45 minutes.” So not short/short then…
So orf we set in a timely fashion with Gunpowder Plod immediately short-cutting to the first check he had spotted walking to the Start. But with the Hare having neatly hidden all his occasional markings from plain sight, it took a while for the pack to call on-on up Shui Tsuen Au Street to a split. Most of the pack followed Dingaling over the barrier where he split his shorts and further split them coming back from the T. The trail went up an inverted stairway to hell otherwise known as Tsok Pok Hang New Village, a dingy den of ne’er-do-wells and layabouts and friends of Mango Groove thrown out of the old village for incestuous behaviour and alcoholism.
Golden Balls was the last up, preceded by Golden Jelly and the wheezing geriatric known as Plod, the rest of the pack now out of site and past the next check up the barriered road past the Girl Guide campsite (was that Dingaling seen climbing disappointedly back over the gate?) into the darkness of Lion Rock Country Park.
Oop n oop we went to another check where trail lead up some steps to a concrete path and some ambiguity. Trail was eventually spotted leading across and up into the shiggy which the now shiggy-adverse Plod decided to forego, short-cutting up left instead. He arrived at the next check in time to hear Dingaling descending from the right, seeing his torch and plaintively beseeching him with calls of “Are you on??” Plod, adhering to strict SCB etiquette, declined to answer, allowing Dingaling to overtake him up the path and find trail, followed in short order by the rest of the pack.
The FRBs in the form of said Dingaling, Penile Dementia, Mango and FBI were shortly after observed retreating from a check-back, allowing our Lion City Hash visitors to shoot into the lead (directed by Plod) up another shiggy path, much to the consternation and wailing displeasure of the former FRBs. This was the last Plod saw of them as his knees declined the effort and led him back down whence they had come, finding Catching-Up Of The Day and Eunuch & Sons en route descendant.
Meanwhile, at the top of the hill, Oranguwank, Mango and Penile Dementia led the descent on a sometimes-pleasant sometimes-technical trail, with Dingaling just ahead of the fast-descending GB and FBI. The Frenchman slipped on some gravel and fell over, and while GB was laughing derisively at him he invoked the God of Schadenfreude, who promptly caused GB to twist his knee on an awkward drop and fall over.
On return, it was discovered that the bucket comprised Tsing Tao and ice and nought else! This was fairly quickly disposed of and later supplemented by softies and shandies. The Circle was then called to order by the non-running, broken-toed incompetent parent known as Eunuch. By the end of the evening, he and most of the pack probably wished that he HAD had his bits chopped off before consummating his marriage…
Plod observed that he had not realised that Eunuch’s younger son was in fact called “You Little Shit!”. This was what his father called him after he stomped on his broken toe, anyway…
“You Little Shit” then went on to pour the down-down beer out of the expensive N2TH3 hand-tooled stainless steel antique muglettes onto the ground.
His father, declining to drink several of the righteous DDs awarded him, then revenged himself by pouring his DDs over “You Little Shit’s” head, who seemed to enjoy it.
The crowning glory of this lovable delinquent’s behaviour came at the end of the proceedings however. He strutted up to the bucket and pissed in it!!
His father then paid the penalty of a full can DD out of the Piss Bucket.
“You Little Shit’s” final piece of yobbery could not be ignored so, in the absence of the RA, the lesser Sek Kong Hash RA, Liberace, stepped up and, to broad approval and acclamation, named “You Little Shit” – Piss In Bucket, a moniker which he will no doubt be explaining for the rest of his hashing life. On on! – Gunpowder Plod
Hare: Liberace
Runners: Mango Groove, Penile Dementia, Gunpowder Plod, Golden Balls, Golden Jelly, Velcro Lips, Oranguwank, FBI, Dingaling, Pool Boy, Secret Swinger, Catch Of The Day
Non-runners: Eunuch, Piss in Bucket, Travis, Yummy Mummy
Run 1817, 9 August, Tai Mo Shan
Report to come (BJ)
Hare: Serbian Bomber
Runners: Mango Groove, Penile Dementia, Liberace, BJ, Flo, Golden Balls
Non-runners: Eunuch, Catch Of The Day
Run 1816, 2 August, Kowloon Reservoir
How To Win The Hash
The Northern New Territories Hash sank to a new low on this night when perpetual backmarker and chubber Golden Balls was the first rambo home – without shortcutting! How did we reach this sorry state, and what is to be done?
Kowloon Reservoir by night can be creepy, what with all those monkeys hooting in the dark or trying to grab your bag. So Sticky wisely moved the start of her run from the gloomy pagoda at the end of the dam to the brightly lit car park on Tai Po Road. There were still hordes of simian vermin around, but at least you could see ’em coming!
Normal marks, chalk, flour, paper, said the hare. A “T” means go back to the check. There’s a rambo trail, a wimp trail and a super-wimp, which I marked “LSW” – you’ll see why! Don’t follow shredded paper! And with this peculiar directive, Liberace led the runners off along Tai Po Road, followed shortly by latecomers Dingaling and Golden Jelly.
The first check led the pack up steps and through shiggy, but soon returned to the road. A second diversion went through more shiggy to emerge on the road that leads to the dam. Liberace, My Neck In, QT and Penile Dementia were setting the pace, with GB unsurprisingly in the rear.
Left at the pagoda and along the gently undulating trail, so far so predictable. Then, instead of going to Reception Reservoir, trail went down a long flight of steps to a service road, where we found the super-wimp split, which nobody did, having been warned that it would be a very short run. But wait – what’s this? Shredded paper? AND flour? Two sets of markings on the same trail? On a dark path, GB saw lights heading towards him. Checkback? No, it was Little Sai Wan hashers coming in the opposite direction on their wimps trail.
At a check next to a stream, also marked as the LSW R/W split, trail went steeply uphill. GB, who had passed Dram, Gunpowder Plod and Serbian Bomber, could hear the increasingly frantic Liberace somewhere below him shouting “Are you! Are you! ARE YOU!???” He could also hear Penile Dementia calling trail above him, so up he went, gently calling trail, to join forces with Penile and Flo as Liberace’s strangled yelps faded from earshot in the murk. Little did they know it, but this decrepit trio was now in the lead.
A beautiful stretch of path through bamboo followed, still with flour and shredded paper, emerging at a road that soon led to a fenced-off covered reservoir. There was a check, and somebody had put a “T” next to it in one direction. The trio chose to go through this T, rightly surmising that it was put there by LSW (whose trail went in the other direction) and soon found unequivocal NNT markings on the drainage culvert that arched up and around the reservoir. A check at the end of the culvert fooled Penile, but GB found the way along the road below that led back to the super-wimp split and ultimately back to Tai Po Road for a half-mile run in. Dram, Plod, Golden Jelly and Dingaling (who had done a shorter trail) were astonished to see chubber GB storming in first, closely followed by PD and Flo. Fellow chubber QT was next, revealing how Liberace had led him and My Neck In astray at the point where his strangled yelps had been heard by GB, and how, when they had got to the super-wimp split, Liberace had inexplicably turned left onto the out trail, taking My Neck In with him, despite the obvious home-trail arrow pointing straight ahead. Serbian Bomber, Liberace and My Neck In duly trickled in as everybody enjoyed the outraged Liberace’s accusations of shit markings, non-calling and every other excuse going. The ensuing circle was memorable for PD and MY Neck In’s vigorous policing of the surrounding macaque army. A very nice 6km summer run.
Two morals to this story: first, with the right mix of craft, stealth and luck, you too can win the hash; and second, NEVER, EVER FOLLOW LIBERACE! – Cock Of Space
Hare: Sticky Apid Bottom Exudate
Runners: Dingaling, Golden Jelly, Gunpowder Plod, Dram, Golden Balls, Penile Dementia, Flo, QT, Serbian Bomber, Liberace, My Neck In
Non-runner: Luk Sup Gow
Run 1815, 26 July, San Tin
Phantom On My Trail
Location: somewhere along the road running parallel to the west side of the highway heading south from Mai Po.
As I arrived at the ‘funeral parlour’, with a crippled Moonie in tow, who only came for the dirge, the runners were gathered and itching to set off. After quickly donning my upper decker flopper stopper and such, I jogged down the road to find… Moonie but no pack. Everyone had been sent off on their merry bloody way and I was alone. “Oh, don’t worry, that frog said he would wait but we told him you would catch up, so he started walking.” said Dingers the hare and Moonie. Cheers guys, not! The thing is, I love the night runs but hate the dark! Especially when I’m alone! Eeeeeeeeek!!!
Nevertheless, I shot off in hope of catching Flo or anyone that would make a better sacrifice should I happen to come across any death eaters. This feat shouldn’t have been so bad, but an unmarked check threw me away from that hope. As I wound along little concrete paths with a few dogs woofing behind their fences, I came to a check that sent me through a gate into a wooded area with a few graves. Ploughing on in hope of hearing runners, there was a road winding around the back of a villa sending us then along a culvert onto more graves and lots of rustling……crap, crap, crap! !!!! Golden Balls and Golden Jelly had obvious plans for hanging at the back, quick roll in the hay in a grave area on the hill. Hurry along TD! Leave them to fulfil their fantasy!
Trail then meandered up the grassy hillside to the top, and the rustling and whinging of… the GM! I plodded on diagonally down the hillside to the adjoining hill, hearing shouts from Serbian like “You short cutting bastard!” Ahem, “I’m on trail and calling but you ain’t following the call so sod off!” I politely replied.😇
A trig point up ahead, and a skiddy, gravelled, bushy, steep, downhill track (lots of adjectives for the ed), led us onto a dark, quiet road going somewhere. Still no sign of Flo, he seems to be an FRB wannabee. I had heard him up the hill but he must’ve hopped off faster knowing more poms were bring up the rear.
Anyway, the road went on, and on, and on. Then a road split and an unmarked check. Bah humbug! Bloody FRBs not marking again!!! So on I carried along the road, eventually arriving at a military camp… gulp! No trail so far, so trailing back there was another split… nothing… almost back at the check… Serbian plods along saying “This way!” Looking at the check with a rubber car mat on it, I could only presume that the two next people I met, hanging outside a yard, had played silly buggers and messed with our markings. Grrrrrrrrr. Ching Chong China Man has a lot to answer for. So I had a companion for a moment, then ran off on my merry way, happy to be on trail.
Golden Jelly and GB were up ahead, wobbling along the top of a concrete embankment of a shallow culvert, where at the end we crossed through a yard of dogs onto a main road running parallel to the highway. Must be almost on home, I thought. Markings were hard to see throughout, and GB and KY caught up again as I pondered. “Let’s go this way, along the soon-to-be new cycle track, it’s much more interesting than a road.” says GB, leading his lemmings astray. And just like lemmings, we gladly followed, happy to get off of the concrete!
I had waited for Golden Jelly to alert her to the diversion, then ran on to catch up with GB, who was oblivious to any sound other than the pounding of his huge feet on the dried, muddy terrain. GB slowed to a walk at which point I spoke. “Keep going or move over!” were the words that caused poor GB to yell in fear and jump out of his skin. Highly amusing, and that happened a few times! Nervous old bean!
After a race to the bucket, we were welcomed to the arms of the pack where the circle shortly began. Plenty of shit was thrown in, none of which I can remember except Moonie being done for locking me outside in our yard with the dogs to kill a ginormous Samuel Whiskers rat! Such a brave ex-commando, Moonie!
Thanks for a great run Dingaling.
On On – Tangerine Dream🍊☁
Northern New Territories Hash 