The Prawn: An “Accident”
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.
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
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
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
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
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!”
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