Run 1780, 21 December, Yuen Long

The Un-Canny Scotchman


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.


Run 1779, 14 December, Tai Po

Traipsing   Scraping   Vaping


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





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

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

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

Run 1776, 23 November, Sai Kung

The Times They Are a-Changing

The stamp of authority

With Populist candidates sweeping the worlds elections it was no surprise to see Serbian Bomber, the peoples champion, take control of the NT Hash.


No time waiting for the late comers and slow parkers, just get the show on the road. The cold winds of change blow the pack down the hill to Hiram’s Highway. Velcro Lips was to be the Statue of Liberty, shining a light into the lions den, she looked like the Goddess of Democracy.

SIP … Serbian had it all under control.

The hare, Plod, never one to use the old boring conventional chalk and flour for his markings, no he used pink string, yellow string, police string …

Moonie and Gayle Says No scurried around up and down the Victoria line, pity the trail was going along the Central line but they enjoyed themselves, anything goes these days. The Kowloon Hash Veterans are the inner circle of the Serbian regime, no surprise when Geriatric confidently leads the pack and even One Eyed Jack refuses to short cut.

Past Sai Kung Sports College – are the students studying hashing or just followers of Serbians tweets?

SIP … Serbian is the teacher.

Back on Plod’s roof the canopy is about to take off into the wind but the short cutters are only interested in taking off the sausages from the barbecue, where Jam The Vag wields the tongs. Mango Groove and Eunuch return in tears, no longer the dynamic duo of yesteryear.

SIP … this is the Serbian era.

The GM2 down downs circle the circle, no one is spared from Eunuch’s wrath.

The RA2, blown away by the noise and commotion, thinks he must have stepped into Macdonalds by mistake. Stingray lays the blame squarely at the feet of the Kowloon infiltrators but there’s not a moment’s peace, even for Gods messenger.

SIP … Serbian calls on his last disciple.

Hare Raiser Mango tries to put forward some drivel about future runs and penalties, free kicks and yellow cards but no one cares, theres no run yet for next week but Serbian has his finger on the pulse and all will be well.

SIP … Although not actually present, Serbian and his mystical powers have triumphed and crushed all opposition … LIBS is gone … LONG LIVE THE KING. – Stingray

Run 1775, Ha Hang, 16 November

Report No. 1

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

(Liberace, run 1766, 14 September 2016)


Well the run this week was our AGM. Must say Liberace has been an outstanding GM this year, leading the circle with his unique sense of humour, not forgetting his exploits as hare for five runs this year as well as his 53 runs attended. Anyway, he was pre-advised by several members of the N2TH3 to set a very short run, a very simple run and a very forgettable run as it was our AGM and nobody wants to be out on trail forever. Liberace took this advice on board and then did his usual stuff, hence the title of the report, the now infamous quote made by our GM upon finishing Catch Of The Day’s Run in Tsuen Wan back in September.

Starting at Stingray and M&M’s pad in Ha Hang Village off Ting Kok Road, the pack set off promptly at 7.40 pm after Liberace had given us a set of instructions. Thinking that this was just going to be an easy 20-minute run, the pack sped off and across Ting Kok Road into the industrial estate. Dingaling figured that it should just be a little jog along the waterfront park and back and most of us agreed that indeed we were not even going to get a sweat on. As we ran along and onto the first check most of us went straight as Dram and Velcro had called trail, but our plans of a waterfront park jog were blown to pieces when we came upon a check back, eventually finding trail heading left and around a fenced off area.   At this point, Mango became a little worried that we might get arrested as technically we were trespassing; however One Eyed Jack soon put his worries to bed by telling him to stop being a twat and there is no possible way anything could go wrong at this point. Well One Eyed Jack your Nostradamus-like prediction was soon to be shot to pieces….

So off we all went, Eunuch in front and the rest of us grouped nicely together behind. A straight long road led right up to a locked gate. This was the first of two gates and proved easy to negotiate as we simply had to climb over it. A short run followed onto a second locked gate that was over eight foot in height with barbed wire on the top. “There is no bloody way we are getting over that!” the pack shouted. Over it no, but under maybe. Sighting a small gap at the bottom of the gate Eunuch made it look very easy as he went under, running off in the distance without giving a toss for his fellow brethren. The rest of us just looked at this now very slim Eunuch happily trotting away leading a few to remark “wish I could be like him, the skinny twat.” Mango then decided that he must have lost the 20 pounds excess gained from his mother’s West Indian cooking and had a go at going under the gate as well. Poor thing he tried going under head first, only to scream “My bum is stuck, can someone call the fire services!” Dingaling took control and after dragging Mango out advised that he should put his legs in and then go through. This approach worked and soon Velcro, Penile Dementia, Dram and Plod followed suit, but a few chubbers, including One Eyed Jack (a.k.a Nostradamus) and Serbian Bomber, had to take a very long detour around before returning back onto Ting Kok Road again.

As we ran along the jogging path, another check led us over the road onto the rambo / wimps split. The rambo trail was a short shiggy trail up, around and back to the wall above Ting Kok Road. Eunuch and Dingaling tried to turn their lights off in the hope of jumping out of the bushes and scaring the next hasher to come along…but nobody else followed, making them both look like a right pair of tits. The rambo and wimp trails joined up near some graves and continued going straight. Dram, Plod and One Eyed Jack quickly found trail off a check back before heading left into another village. It was here that we came across a very sweet looking wild boar that Plod tried to befriend. After trying to communicate with the poor little thing Serbian Bomber and Penile Dementia soon found trail leading deep into the village and around and back onto Tin Kok Road, again. At this point the pack had got pretty strung out as we had almost another three-kilometre run home. Back on Stingray’s roof, Golden Balls had now arrived making some ridiculous excuse for being late.

In the time we had been out on the run, the corner of Stingray’s roof had been turned into some type of polling station, similar to that seen in a dodgy African country where the outcome of the election is known before the vote itself. It was impressive, there were a couple of large pieces of paper with pending committee positions waiting to be filled in and a voting box, complete with pens and pieces of paper. Mango was infuriated by this horrible sight in front of him so he grabbed a marker pen and wrote “Bog Brush” over everything. Stingray was having none of this, told Mango off, grabbed the pen and then wrote “Trump” over Liberace’s carefully prepared chart. Poor Libs, undeterred by this bad behaviour, grabbed a clean white piece of paper and re-did everything, making sure his spelling was correct following Velcro Lips’ guidance. A quick circle then followed, and then time for the main event. Various positions were appointed before anointing of the new GM. Following the guidelines set forth by the Hong Kong SAR, Liberace decided that he would allow the assembled hash to vote from three pre-selected candidates, namely Serbian Bomber, One Eyed Jack and Dingaling.

One by one each member was called upon “one man-one vote” Liberace called as we voted. Now that was all well and good, but answer this riddle …if there are fourteen attendees, then how come after counting there were seventeen votes? Well actually this weeks scribe knows the answer, Plod voted three times for One Eyed Jack and someone else also voted twice for One Eyed Jack. Looks like One Eyed Jack had been slipping a few members a ten dollar note…anything for power. As the votes were counted live, it soon became apparent that it was going to be very close between Serbian Bomber and One Eyed Jack, with Serbian Bomber holding on to be the first ever democratically elected GM of the N2TH3. Poor Dingaling received no votes, not a sausage, even his wife Overdue didn’t vote for him. Don’t feel too bad Dingaling, if you are a fan of the Eurovision Song Contest, you will see the United Kingdom always gets no votes as well.

Food followed with a delicious spread of chilli, Thai curry, rice and bananas that was kindly prepared by M&M. It wasn’t long before the food and beer were consumed and it was time for bed. As we all left, we kindly shook hands with M&M and gave Stingray a quick peck on his left cheek. Finally, it must be said that this was another eventful run, a very memorable AGM planned and executed to imperfection by Liberace, and for those of you not coming along, seriously you are missing out on so much.

– Mango Groove

Report No. 2

No Country for Fat Men

For his final run as GM, Liberace was also the hare.

You assume, as soon as you read that Liberace was setting trail, that there was some cock-up along the way. And you would be correct. There was a size requirement for the run. But we only discovered this part-way through.

Things started as normal. We assembled on the roof of Stingray’s gaff, one by one slipping in unnoticed by the locals. The jokes were flying back and forth. But, beneath the humour, our inner voices questioned, “Would we all make it back? With Liberace as the hare, would there be some suicidal run alongside the highway, or a crawl through a tunnel of thorns, a mad trail down a cliff-face?” And the most worrisome thought, “What was the risk of being the next GM?”

Liberace’s briefing seemed pretty standard. The usual markings. The usual banter. And so we sortied out, into the quiet of the night.

At first, trail was easy, down into Tai Po industrial estate but then after a false trail south towards the waterfront, trail turned east and arrived at a locked gate. We ducked through a hole in the fence right next to the gate. So far, so good. Looking back along the trail, I was reassured to see the hare following.

We reached another eight-foot locked gate, with trail on the far side. A few hashers scrambled over, but others hesitated until somebody found a concrete drainage channel that cut under the fence.

Then we reached a third locked gate, leading out (if it was open) onto a road. Eight foot high, with barbed wire along the top. No hole in the fence and more barbed wire along the top. A drainage channel that was only 6 inches wide. With some struggle most of the hash was able to wriggle through a small gap beneath the gate. Even Velcro Lips managed to squeeze her boobs under it (I watched closely in case she needed assistance). Finally, there was me, One-Eyed Jack and the buffoon of a hare remaining. One-Eyed Jack went first and squeezed his belly through, but then his ribcage got hooked up on the lower bar of the gate. He could not pass this way. I didn’t even try. If OEJ could not do it, there was no way my big-boned body would fit. Fortunately GoldenBalls was not running.

We seized Liberace, and after applying some “enhanced” interrogation techniques, he broke. The gates were open when he set the trail, but he had wondered if they would be locked later. If we ran back the way we had come (almost all the way back to the start) then we could find our way back to the trail… run back to the junction to Sam Mun Tsai… Keep going along the cycle path towards Tai Mei Tuk… Run past the check that would lead along the village, keep going towards Tai Mei Tuk… Run over the T and keep going towards Tai Mei Tuk to join the run back.

So off I went, OEJ trailing behind, to rejoin the runners.

As I went, I encountered the “gallant” D-Ram escorting Velcro back the start. I think he was trying to persuade her that they needed to go back underneath the gate, but she insisted they go back the quick way, straight along the road.

They told me that I was on the wrong side of the road – and so I crossed over and found the arrows. Then I was surprised as Ginger Moon came speeding up from behind. He accompanied me, past the check into the village and onto the markings for the return trail. He then helped me to scout on beyond this, to meet up with the hashers and rescue them from any angry villagers (no wonder Velcro Lips turned back instead of entering the village).

Following the trail backwards, we reached the public toilets and ducked inside to take a quick whizz. Ginger emerged just as the first hashers ran by, while I hid inside until the coast was clear.

Quickly I caught up with the front of the pack and ran with Mango down the road. But instead of crossing the road to the safety of the path, Mango insisted on running on the wrong side of the dual carriageway, directly facing the oncoming traffic. When a traffic light brought traffic to a temporary halt I sprinted to the next possible crossing point and got out of the way. I had no idea Mango was cousin to the lemming.

When we got back to Stingray’s des-res I discovered that Liberace’s gateway fiasco had added an extra 2km to my run – 7km compared to the Rambos’ 5km.

I can’t remember much from Liberace’s final circle due to the shock and trauma of the subsequent voting for GM. I remember Golden Balls being down-downed for not being able to find the start (despite a map and clear markings). Mango and Dingaling for taking to the bushes on the rambo trail to lurk in ambush, but being disappointed when nobody passed by. Mango appointing Bogbrush to every committee position, which seemed fairly sensible to me. But then this was voided, and Liberace started over.

Despite my pleas for mercy, I was included in the list of candidates as number 1 along with One-Eyed Jack (2) and Dingaling (3). Somehow 12 people cast 15 votes – 8 for me, 6 for OEJ, 0 for Stingray and 1 for number 4.

So it seems I am now your GM. I will try not to let my plans for world domination interfere with the schedule of the runs. Hahahahaha. Today the hash, tomorrow the world…

Lesser committee members: Eunuch as GM2, Luk Dim Boon as RA, Stingray as RA2, Mango Groove as hare raiser (I’ve looked in the mirror but I can’t see any more hare on my head so I think he needs to try harder), Velcro as hash cash and hash trash, Liberace as hash beer and Golden Balls as hash webbie.


– Serbian Spammer Bomber Baron Diver von Mooseheime