Run 1896, 26 December, Tit Hang

The Boxing Day Pizza Hangover Run

 

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Golden Jelly scored a triumph with her Boxing Day Pizza Hangover Run, capping an “easy” trail around the hills of Tit Hang with a feast of wood-fired pizzas from a brick oven.

On a temperate sunny afternoon hashers set off along the dirt access road and straight into shiggy, soon working down a trackless hillside to a steep shotcrete slope and its overgrown access steps. From there, trail seemed to go into the dragon fruit farm but turned right to Ma Cho Lung, eventually crossing to the northerly range of hills through a gate. Of course locals were on hand to warn us off, but nobody paid attention, particularly Salesman.

A steep slog up to the ridge followed, with its spectacular views of Shenzhen, then a steep descent through bracken which saw Hoover navigating it on her arse, before a surprise arrival at the finish, where the hare had laid out a formidable array of drinks and snacks.

The usual boisterous circle followed, enlivened by the presence of various dogs and kids, before the promised pizzas started arriving from galley slave Golden Balls, who only emerged from the kitchen in order to chuck another prawn on the barbie pizza in the oven. The spirit of Zimmerframe was invoked as the slow-arriving pies were dispensed in bite-size morsels by See No Weevil, wielding a fearsome Kyrgyz blade — the scourge of the weevils.

As wine mulled and kids plundered the house for weaponry including guitar, drum and plastic trombone an impromptu singalong developed with Fartypants at the fore.

A veritable smorgasbord of a hash.

Hare Golden Jelly

Runners Penile Dementia, Eunuch, Liberace, Stringfellow’s daughter, Fartypants, Geriatric, Walky Talky, Hoover, Dram, Radio 1, See No Weevil, Stunt Double, Dingaling, Golden Balls, Salesman

Non-runners Antiseptic, Stringfellow, Catch Of The Day, Gunpowder Plod, PD’s wife, Beer Tits, Luk Sup Gow, Travis, Ruth, James, Phil

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Run 1895, 19 December, Fo Tan

R2P2 Wars

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The French eh?

What a bunch of nutters, with their strange metric ways and fluorescent-jacket-wearing street winos – it’s no wonder that their president is a small boy who had his genitals raped off by a Jesuit school teacher.

The Markings: Overcomplicated of course. The usual CB, T, on on and trail, but….

R1 – rambos trail No.1

W1 – wimps trail No.1

R2 – rambos trail No.2

W2 – wimps trail No.2

W2 / R2 /R2P2 – bit where the 2nd rambo trail crosses the 2nd wimp trail – at this point, the 2nd rambo trail is then called ‘2nd rambo’s part 2’ (R2P2 – which I think was the name of a gay secondary droid character  from Star wars). Why he didn’t simply use R3 instead remains a mystery.

Smiley face – we didn’t quite get to the bottom of that marking – something about croissants no doubt.

The Run Explanation (please don a French accent when reading this):

“There are 2 rambos and 2 wimps, the first rambo you’ll need nice legs, and the second Rambo is lots of uphill, so you’ll need nice legs for that too… It’s only 5k for the wimps and 6k for the rambos – but only do the rambos if you have nice legs.”

The Run

Now I’m not a great fan of documenting the intricacies of runs, as a typical narrative descends into “and then….and then”, but this run was something else.

The first rambo / wimp split was quite literally at the start of the run. wimps going up the path towards the mountains and the rambos leading up some steep retaining wall service steps towards a tramp’s house, where we found the words “Rambo’s Go Wimps” inscribed on a drain outside.

Therefore after this brief futile jaunt up a slope, the rambo runners had to go back past the silhouette figure of crème Brule – his smile nestling comfortably within his beard revealed that this was a hare who plainly enjoys dishing out torture.

The next rambo / wimp split was not too far up the mountain – wimps taking the main path and the rambos up an overgrown rocky path which actually turned out to be a good bit of trail – this all melted into shit after the R2P2 split, as the trail became more vertical, ending up at a buzzing pylon where Liberace and myself got hopelessly lost like twats for a full 10 minutes.

Saving the day as usual was Penile Dementia who immediately found the correct trail back down the hill making the two of us look like bloody idiots. Charging our way down, the three of us came to a check – all three of us checking in different directions. Both Libs and PD returned after 20 seconds claiming no trail and despite protests from myself, they decided to take the trail that I was checking. Ten minutes later the three of us were still checking for trail and after some sharp thinking, we decided to descend the mountain by following a mountain stream, eventually discovering trail crossing it.

“I am sure the trail is going this way” Said Libs pointing his torch at the other side of the river.

We ran that way for 10 minutes until we saw an arrow pointing against us. We’d come so far off trail that we’d long cutted a huge circle back to the W2 / R2P2 split. Proven as bleeding idiots, we limped back home along the wimps, passing a crippled Catch Of The Day, a French madman in a car attempting to save said cripple, wife of French madman, a grinning Bunter, and a bucket full of shortcutters.

Circle was full of cheese sausage, and mold wine – we all got drunk and rowdy – the most wonderful time of the year.

Merry Christmas bitches – Eunuch

Hare Creme Brulee

Runners Eunuch, Liberace, Penile Dementia, Catch Of The Day, Bunter, more…

 

Run 1894, 12 December, Tai Po

The Pub Run

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Tai Po, with its 45 pubs, is the drinking capital of the New Territories and the perfect venue for the Christmas pub run, an event eagerly anticipated every December and trained for all year in madcap circles and subsidiary sessions. Would the pack be able to challenge the incredible record of 25 pubs set in 2011 by the hard core of Serbian Bomber, Stingray, One Eyed Jack, BOF and Golden Balls? Would the hostelries of Tai Po be thronged once again with carol-singing merriment and bonhomie? In short, no. The excuses were starting to wear a bit thin.

Luk Sup Gow: Sorry, I’m in the Philippines still suffering post-wedding stress.

Serbian Bomber: I’m still fighting the after-effects of virus.

One Eyed Jack: Got an upper respiratory tract infection.

Bunter: Stuck in TST for a dinner.

Back To The Future: Won’t be able to make it tonight.

At least there were a few names from the past on the starting line at the King’s Belly. But no. “Too old to run'” said Chilly Willy. “Injured,” moaned Gloria. “We won’t be joining you,” sniffed Victim and North & South. Then a missive from No Rough Stuff: “I can’t join tonight, I need to do OT at the office.”

“Who’s OT?” demanded Mango. “Lucky guy. Any relation to QT?” To which NRS shot back “If OT was a guy he’d be the unlucky one.”

And then, in a post dripping with bitterness and sarcasm from Mango: “Apologies, I will be present and I shall bring the chalk.”

Thus it was that on a cold cold night the Magnificent 6 gathered at the King’s Belly for the 2018 Pub Run, the run we train for all year. It’s such a tough event that the attrition rate had indeed been alarming, but Golden Balls gamely set off with the chalk to live-hare the first leg to pub 1, followed two minutes later by the pack of Geriatric, Liberace, Mango, Stingray and Eunuch, moving with fluency and co-ordination through the icy canyons. The first leg included a hill section half way to Wan Tau Kok Lane before dodging back down to the mazy alleys of town and a check at the pedestrianised zone. This flummoxed the pack, who weren’t used to such cryptic signs on a pub run but eventually they found their way to the taxi rank on Po Heung Street and — another check! “Outrageous!” the pack chorused, but trail was soon found leading to a lift in a building where GB was waiting on the second floor in a newish place called Free House, unknown to most of the runners. A WhatsApp came in from QT, who had arrived late and was following trail from the Belly: “Which complete and utter half wit set trail to the first bar?”

Second leg was set by Stingray, a straightforward trot through howling winds over Kwong Fuk Road to Bar Pacific, where QT was waiting having picked up trail on Kwong Fuk Road. The party was now the Magnificent 7 and things were shaping up for a quick traverse to the Tai Po Centre cluster of pubs with a pleasingly symmetrical return to the Tai Po Market group as the night progressed. But Liberace wrested control of the chalk from Stingray and set off on an idiotic meander back the way we’d just come, towards the Bobby London cluster. Outrage was expressed by QT as we passed one pub after another without being directed in, until we reached triad joint 6V Bar. Mango took over and avoided the sharp edge of QT’s tongue by going round the corner to identical triad joint Bar King, where Eunuch failed abysmally to do magic tricks with a deck of cards, then Geriatric set a mazy trail to the 133. Things were picking up pace as Eunuch took the reins, popping a few doors down the road to the Bobby London where we reminisced about such Bobby legends as Nick Griffin, Jim Nicholson and Steve James. It was time for QT’s leg, and he didn’t disappoint, hardly passing a pub on his way to pub no. 7 — whose name I forget — in Tung Fat Square just behind the Bobby. We were on a roll, holding form and looking good.

Stingray reclaimed the chalk and took us 150m up Kwong Fuk Road to another new pub, Double In, before GB crossed Kwong Fuk Road again to set trail to the Japanese half of the Gili Galu. Trail was edging once more towards the Tai Po Centre cluster as Mango grabbed the chalk and set off on a trail that only a man with no sense of direction could set, chalking arrows initially towards Tai Po Centre and then away, along the desolate tracts of Po Nga Street towards Tai Wo and its exactly zero pubs. After several faffs and short circuits, trail finally homed in on…a Seven-11. A quick tinnie later local resident QT rescued the run, getting us back on track to Tai Po Centre, all nudgers up, swift striding and clear-eyed. But not yet even half way to the record. QT’s leg ended at a pizza pub, the name eludes me –— Tapas, perhaps? — where a surfeit of greasy chips and other equally healthy snacks were devoured by ravenous runners. We then all declared ourselves too stuffed to do any more, and there, at station 11, the pub run ended.

Was it a failure? Certainly, like the great Ernest Shackleton, we had endured the icy wastes. Like Shackleton, we had failed in our stated objective and, like Shackleton, had prevailed against the odds, enduring almost unbearable hardships without the loss of a single man!!!

A glorious failure.

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Hares & runners Stingray, Golden Balls, Mango Groove, Liberace, Eunuch, Geriatric, QT

Next week’s run Creme Brûlée, Fo Tan

Run 1893, 5 December, Sheung Tsuen

Football Round-up 

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Following the mid-week fixtures, ex-Hibernian manager Dram organises a number of games at the Sheung Tsuen Park Stadium, Shek Kong.

Pre-match news is that injuries have prevented rampaging left half Gunpowder Plod (shoulder, too much barging) and dribble wizard Serbian Bomber (groin strain) from even making the team bus.

Leaders of the Womens Filipina league immediately drop out as defenders W Talky and T Bird claim injuries.

Betway Gambling representative KY escorted from the ground after caught accepting illegal cash bets in the stands.

Large crowd to welcome World Cup Winner Greame Bully, ex-French captain.

Arsenal striker Golden Balls puts the Gooners into an early lead but is stunned by veteran Gerry’s Hattrick.

Everton full back Eunuch rages and fails to settle, fearing a red card following recent bookings in the same stadium.

South American football journeyman Vibrator noses his way around the park and smells a good chance of success.

Stringray, following his recent transfer from West Ham to Woofoo TaiPo, is still a bit off the pace but puts in a solid performance in midfield.

Liverpool winger Mango with his Billy the Fish skills runs rings around his opponents but is justly booked for some over-eager unsporting marking.

Any chance of a Hong Kong victory is lost when P Dementia and Radio One are substituted, to be replaced by F Pants on loan from Shek Kong United.

Gold Coast goalkeeper One Jack Eye saves a lot of times, and cuts shots as usual.

China FC legend Liberace plans a talk on tactics at the FCC. He is banned by the HKFA; plans to take up bookselling in Causeway Bay.

In extra time J League superstar C O Day, despite still recovering from serious injury, comes off the bench to create a number of chances, all of which are unfortunately turned down down.

All games finish as  0 – 0 draws and the crowds quickly drift away to a Tasty Indian game of cricket ……

……. more about that next week. — sports correspondent RJK

Hare Dram

Runners Catch Of The Day, Fartypants, Golden Balls, One Eyed Jack, Walky Talky, Golden Jelly, Creme Brulee, Geriatric, Eunuch, Vibrator, Stingray, Mango Groove, Penile Dementia, Radio 1, Liberace

Non-runner T-Bird

Run 1892, 28 November, Hok Tau

To the Pits

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No sign of the hare, so no pre-run information. After waiting for 10 minutes the assembled pack decided to get on with it and set off checking. Another 10 minutes and no trail was found. We were then graced with Moonie’s presence, as he took in some mountain air after a hard day’s work. He did let slip to Geriatric that he had seen trail on the road to the barbecue pits.

So Geriatric and One Eyed Jack set off in the general direction and found trail. Marked in camouflaged coloured chalk, very hard to see and not even visible from a car with headlights. Up the road, across the roundabout, through the gate, left at the toilets and on to a rambo/wimp split.

A similar trail to Gaelle Says No’s run of a few months back. So the wimps, Golden Jelly and Geriatric, went up the steps towards the Wilson Trail  and the rambos went right along the river to the road and left up the steep road to the look out. Crème Brulee was beaten to the top by Liberace with SS Mango Groove and OEJ following. The trail then followed the Wilson Trail down to the dam with the wimps rejoining at the junction part way along. Then back along the road to the start. Some 75 minutes and nine kilometres. — One Eyed Jack

Hare Eunuch

Runners Golden Jelly, Geriatric, Mango Groove, One Eyed Jack, Creme Brulee, Liberace

Run 1891, 21 November, Leafy Glade

Shattered

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Hangover or feet? Or both? I was informed that I paid for shots for everyone at the King’s Belly in the aftermath of the AGM. But I have no clue. Anyway it was a great day, read Plod’s report for more details. Still recovering on arriving at Leafy Glade. Because the feet are shattered. On setting up the AGM run, Golden Balls told me to set up the rambos while he would set the wimps. All the rambo runners got the idea of near 5km of catchwater as a finish.

On his side, tonight’s hare had opted for the 100km Trailwalker instead of 5km of catchwater and, not surprisingly, his feet were shattered. Waiting for the attendees, Gaelle Says No was relaxing, sitting on a table, with leg dandling in air and flip flop filled by feet noticeably wider by a good half inch than usual. Shattered and smashed.

GM Catch Of The Day parked her car like a moron, almost crashing into a bunch of hashers (including our favourite crashers Dram and Mango) for the sake of not missing the 7.30 mark. Nobody was injured and we all forgave her when she pulled out of her bra a bottle of saké to celebrate her first run as GM.

On his side, QT spent the AGM day trying out his stag party dressed in a fake Tarzan outfit. A photo of him circulated, showing a desperate face. We haven’t heard from him since, but we all hope he found his Jane and that we will hear his roar in the North New Territories soon.

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The run was a maze of houses, DIY roads, farming path and checks taking demented runners in all directions before connecting the dots with the next marking, often well over 200m away. Meanwhile the smart walkers were catching the desperate rambos going left, right and North by NorthWest.

All this confusion and “RU?” created havoc among the barking population. They were going berserk on our trail and around a dark corner one almost got my pee unleashed.
One day I’m going to eat a dog!

Some villagers were also coming out after us, asking what was all this about. Liberace tried to explain that we were just running for fun but the feral wouldn’t take it and was asking why we would do this so late. Then Liberace started to tell what was the N2TH3 and proposed him to join the fun. On seeing the gaze deepening, the eyebrows getting darker and thicker, the jaws growing forward; Liberace decided that he might be better stopping the PR and going back to what he does best: RUN!

Arriving to the last check, Eunuch appeared from nowhere. We hadn’t seen or heard of him for a good part of the run as he outsmarted a couple of checks better than anyone at the start and now he was behind, running like a eunuch.
Where have you been ?
I was checking on the queen!
How’s her pussy?

He didn’t say, already 20m ahead.

Finally everybody get back home: the Kwong Yik Store where sake and real bottles of Tsing Tao oiled the circle. GM did a great job keeping the fun and the spirit high, RA2 showed his mettle by not renaming Mango Shit Sniffer, Stingray got a parking ticket from the Village Committee. And I’m the first after the AGM to get handed the Dildopen so you can read this crap.  — Creme Brulee

Hare Gaelle Says No

Runners Mango Groove, Eunuch, One Eyed Jack, Liberace, Creme Brulee, Geriatric, Bunter, Wandering Wanker, Stingray, Dram, Golden Balls, Radio 1

Non-runners Catch Of The Day, T Bird

Run 1890, 17 November, Saturday Run No. 20, Tai Lam Chung

Mystery Bitch

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For the past twelvemonth (an archaic term for a year used by Golden Balls to impress upon us his learned knowledge of the English language), N2TH3 have endured a foreign regime led by a French Grand Maitre (Hong Kong’s first Gallic hash dictator) and been forced to give up beer and crisps in favour of wine and cheese.
Quislings in the pack acquiesced to this subjugation by bestowing upon the hash hierarchy regalia and vestments of office in the form of berets, striped shirts and onion strings. A tricoleur T-shirt was later produced and sold to us in euros and we had to learn an alien tongue. Not since Norman times have we had to endure such indignities.
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The GM’s homme a droit, RA, Chief Propagandist and Interpreter, Golden Balls had warmed us up with the following proclamation regarding the trail and theme:
Trail: Beautiful. A to B with rambo and wimp options. Equal length, around 7-8km. Rambo trail with good shiggy. If bringing kids then wimp trail is recommended. Beach finish. Hash halt: Yes, manned by RA2 Radio 1 Theme: French. Bring strings of onions, stripey T-shirts, berets, baguettes and boursin, and your “I stuck it to Harold” sticker. There’ll be a few Frenchie comestibles laid on alongside the usual crap snacks – bring some extra of your own if you want.
On the Big Day, a large crowd of supplicants gathered at the King’s Belly – a dissident Anglo pub in Tai Po still serving beer and crisps – and boarded a British bus (well, it wasn’t a Citroen) and then waited for he the late arrival of No Rough Stuff whose excuse was that she had encountered shiggy in the park en route (you see, even your scribe has been indoctrinated!) in which was lurking a Stingray lookalike exposing his weevil.
This bus then embarked on a mystery tour Le Grand Depart near Tai Lam Chung Fire Station where it was greeted by the N2TH3 voiture-driving elite (Luk Dim Boon, Gunpowder Plod, Velcro Lips, Sticky Sex Toy and Penile Dementia) and assorted passenger peasantry including, Crackpot, O’Bollocks, Princess Cock Tosser and LDB’s family.
We then gathered in a childrens’ playground for a briefing. In anticipation of us all beating a hasty retreat in true Gallic fashion in the wrong direction, the GM had written this upside down. We were told that the trail was about 8km, that there were two rambo/wimp splits, that there would be a “hash halt” (note, not a beer stop!) and that the run would finish at a Mystery Bitch.
The pack bitched about this for a few seconds before the RA Took Back Control and explained that the run would end at some mystery condom and plastic straw strewn stretch of sand somewhere over the hills and far away; Dover perhaps?
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Then we were off to the first split where the rambos crossed a footbridge across the river and up the first hill, crossing a number of sloping granite outcrops and getting rare views down into Siu Lam Psychiatric Centre with its maximum security prison. After reaching a trig point it was a rough trail down to the chlorination station at Tai Lam Chung Reservoir and onto a good path, with the rear taken up by the late-starting Liberace yelling “Twail”!
The wimps (Dram, Gunpowder Plod, Velcro Lips, Luk Dim Boon and family, Luk Sup Gow, Beer Tits, Phil and Geriatric) carried on along the road through the prison (sorry, “correctional institution”) precincts and up the hill onto the Tai Lam reservoir trails which were indeed beautiful and not too difficult to navigate despite the occasional lunatic on a mountain bike to avoid. Mid-way through, the rambos rejoined led by Burning Lust, Rooted, Dame Invade Her and Wai Chi Cock followed by Liberace and the rest and then the trail split again:
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The rambos on on around the reservoir and onto the catchwater road above So Kwun Wat, the western end of the Maclehose Trail. This pleasant bit of hardtop went on for a good 2.5km until the hash halt was reached.
Meanwhile, from the split the wimps on down some steps to a road down to So Kwun Wat village and after a couple of good checks and a check back appeared to be heading for the Mystery Bitch. Mais non, the devious Napoleonic hare took us back up a sodding hill again, through a pretty cottage area with lots of lusty cottagers doing their thing, RS2H3-style (Lo Tsing Shan village) and eventually onto the catchwater road (where your scribe encountered the short-cutting One Eyed Jack and Stingray who had apparently left poor old Penile Dementia all on his todsome on the rambo trail).
See No Weevil then steamed past us, averting here eyes, and then we shortly encountered Radio 1 displaying her wares by the road side. She smuggled us an elicit ale each with a conspiratorial nudge-nudge and we were off on the final kilometre (there I go again – mile!). Down some steep steps past some posh condos, onto a road, through a tunnel, across Castle Peak Road and onto Cafeteria Beach where we were greeted by a large tricoleur and assorted happy Francophiles quaffing wine and munching on cheese and baguettes. A fine run in perfect running weather. Merci. Merde! Thank you…
The participants who got into the French dress theme most enthusiastically (minus those wearing the T-shirts) were, I recall, Stingray in a dainty raspberry beret, The Widow Wanky, Geriatric, the GM, Golden Balls and a horrible apparition straight from the Bois de Boulogne, Guy the Gay Hooker.
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A truly chaotic beach circle later ensued with the GM dispensing plonko blanco down-downs from a jeroboam while the RA, in his final act in office, produced something vaguely phallic from his pocket and waved it in the air: “The Pencil”, a newly introduced prop fashioned from a broomstick handle, to be awarded each week before the run by the hare to the scribe of the hare’s choice. This will of course change run ethos forever as hashers fall over each other to be nice to the hare before the off.
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Then it was the awards. Winners got a fancy bottle opener donated by RA2 Radio 1.
Crash of the Year
Nominees
1. Mango Groove (Run 1858, Tai Mo Shan) falling in the river and squealing like a bitch as we laughed at him
2. QT (Run 1859, Kong Nga Po) thinking he’s broken his ankle and squealing like a bitch as we laughed at him
3. Dram (lesser hash, Sai Kung) getting through treacherous, slippery stream bed shiggy only to fall flat on his face on a level concrete path
Winner: Dram
Hare of the Year
Nominees
Golden Balls: set equal most runs (5)
Liberace: set equal most runs (5), all of them unrecced

Back To The Future: new hasher, set the run where Mango fell in the river

Radio 1: new hasher, set two runs
Winner: Liberace
Run of the Year
Nominees
1845 (GB/Gaelle Says No, Man Kam To) joint run with FCH
1850 (Dingaling, Bride’s Pool Rd) great variety and some new stuff
1853 (Mango Groove, Sheung Tsuen) broke the great Go West’s long-standing record with a 6-minute trail
1867 (Liberace, Yuen Long) maddest shiggy ever, T-shirts torn to shreds
Winner: Mango Groove
It then remained but for the GM to cut off his onions and announce in random order the demise of the old rabble and the replacement new rabble:

GM Catch Of The Day

GM2 Geriatric

RA One Eyed Jack

RA2 Penile Dementia

Cash Golden Jelly

Beer Eunuch

Hares & Web Golden Balls

Gunpowder Plod (inaugural recipient of The Pencil)

Hares: Creme Brulee, Golden Balls, Radio 1

Runners: Velcro Lips, Free Rider, Kannot Finnish, No Rough Stuff, Dame Invade Her, Bunter, Wai Chi Cock, Robuster, Penile Dementia, Liberace, Luk Dim Boon + wife and daughter, Dram, T Bird, Back To The Future, Gunpowder Plod, Luk Sup Gow, Beer Tits, Phil, O’Bollocks, Crackpot, Golden Jelly, Mango Groove, One Eyed Jack, Stingray, Burning Lust, Rooted, See No Weevil, Sticky Sex Toy, Princess Cock Tosser, Geriatric

Non-runners: Motor Mouth, Widow Wanky, Catch Of The Day, North & South, Victim, Eunuch, Antiseptic, Travis, Ruth, Piss In Bucket