HASH BALL 2009

It’s that time of the year again when we don our finest and talk with a plum in our mouths….. the 2009 P2H3 Ball!

When:  21st of November, from 7:00pm

Where:  Living Room , Street 306 BKK1

What:  Formal attire… from any country.  It can be black tie, Cambodian wedding attire or Nigerian robes… we don’t care as long as it’s formal

Price:  $25 for expats and $8 for Cambodians who’ve done at least 5 runs (or something along those lines)

So buy your tickets from the Velkommn Inn or at the Hash

For further details contact  colleenmcginn@hotmail.com

P2H3 Run #927 – Annual General Erections

Date: 16/08/2009

Hares: Milky Discharge, Horny Cow, Hit On Me (walk)

“ Run” Report: Yogi Bra

Iran, Afghanistan, even the 2008 US elections were no match for the P2H3 General Erections in terms of sheer anticipation and breath-taking upsets. Perennial dark horse candidate Paddington Bra could’ve pulled a Ralph Nader, dividing the hash and wooing the undecideds, but she sacrificed glory and fame for the greater good of unity.

Before we announce the winners, there is the matter of the run. Milky Discharge and Horny Cow, in their swan song to the hash, devised a run that was sure to piss off everyone but the most hard core triathletes. That they themselves were no triathletes or even biathletes (though plenty fit) was no matter because they had performance-enhancing help: a motorcycle. Setting a trail on moto is no problem – for the hares. If you happen to be an unlucky runner, things are not quite as rosy. That’s why the end of the run saw Germinator and the Toxic Avenger with big, sweaty grins on their faces, and everyone else quite miserable. I can only report on the end of the run since I showed up several hours late, though right in time for the BBQ portion of the evening.

The only insight I can give to the mindset of the hares was something Milky said a few weeks ago, that he wanted to make a trail that resembled a giant middle finger. And that he did. So it was up one side of the river and back down the other, though when related to me by runners they added many curses to that description.

After much whinging and sweating, sausages in hand, the hash gathered on the banks of some little river near the killing fields and outgoing GM Blah Blah kicked off the circle.

The new Hash Mismanagement Committee members are:

Grand Master: Scoutmaster – a man whose voice I had never heard before that day, but we suspect greatness is lurking deep within. How deep is the question. His first act of GM-dom was to make us all get on our knees and pray. I like it, a good start, hashers have grown way too weak and soft lately. Perhaps caning is not too far off.

Religious Advisor: Hold ‘em – like a Cambodian court case, Hold ‘em was erected in absentia and expressed profound dismay upon learning of his new role. But he’s been performing this deep-South, bible-thumping preacher act for some time, and he didn’t show up – both recipes for a swift election. Clearly all his years in the US, living in the city of sin, or the city desperately trying to cling to its reputation of sin, gave him a healthy appreciation of the ins and outs of bad behaviour and the importance and futility of confession. Amen, brother.

Hare Raiser: Herring Choker – good choice, people jump when he yells, or even just when he sneezes. Nothing like the Vikings to instill fear in the masses. Hashers will be too scared to say no when he asks them to ‘volunteer’ to set a trail.

Hash Stats: Maynot – he shows up. Overdedication to the hash is a punishable offense.

Hash Cash: Little Boy – he did it once before.

Hash Beer: Runs Well – the most important job on the hash. Despite holding this title already Runs Well gallantly volunteered for this thankless job. Thank you.

Choir Master: STD – Can you carry a tune? Do you have the vaguest sense of melody or the ability to memorize even a single lyric? If you answered ‘no’, this is the job for you.

Hash Haberdashery: Mrs. Tinkle – Mr. Tinkle’s better half has impeccable fashion sense, great taste (in clothing) and is quite handy with a sewing machine. She will make a nice addition to the group.

Hash Trash: Wet Shag – who I predict will never, ever turn up at hash again. Ever. Anyone want to put some money on this? Little Boy – how much can you cover me for?

Webmaster: Henrik – another Viking, and the only man who runs with a full desktop consul and flat screen monitor strapped to his waist, we figured it was a natural choice.

Hash Flash: Shoots Blanks – are we changing his name because his wife is pregnant? Guess not. But he has produced some lovely photos, and has picked up Blitzkrieg’s uncanny ability to pop out of the bushes with a camera right in front of you, even though you’re sure you ran past him a minute ago.

Hash Bash: Cuntsultant, Check Around – Cuntsultant eagerly signed up for this honor, and Check Around said no to everything else, thus the match made in heaven. STD, who swears he is moving and will be nowhere near Phnom Penh during any bashes nevertheless insisted on retaining the right to criticize – er, consult on the proceedings. Godspeed.

Asst. GM, later changed to Grand Mattress: Yogi Bra – smarter than your average bra.

And there you have it, democracy at its finest. Will dissenters be welcomed or locked up and sued? Will Scoutmaster move the official hash capitol from BKK to Takhmao? Will Paddington Bra be placed under house arrest amid fears of a coup? Stay tuned for reports on the reign of terror that this new committee will shower upon the hash.

On On!

P2H3 Run #921 – RED DRESS RUN

Date:  11/7/2009

Hares:  Blah Blah, Yogi Bra

Run Report:  Yogi Bra

A motley crew of hashers turned up Saturday for the Annual Red Dress Run for charity.  Various amounts of skin and lace were on display as hashers tried to outdo each other in the categories of showing too much leg (Phlegm), showing too much nipple (Maynot – and really, any amount was too much), chic-est dress (tie between Beth and Leckity), largest implants (tie between Paddington Bra and Blah Blah), and ability to match lipstick to dress (STD).

A brief rundown of the course by hares Blah Blah and Yogi Bra, and an announcement of the charity that would benefit from the hash’s largesse – Kien Khleang orphanage across the Chroy Changvar bridge, kicked the day off as motodops and passing tourists stared with a mix of humor and revulsion.  A glamorous Blah Blah, clad in a slinky red number and armed with a bag of flour and a thorough lack of shame, took off on a live hare jaunt, and the pack soon followed.  I broke from the pack at Wat Phnom to assume my co-haring duties with Blah Blah, who admitted he was relieved not to have to run all alone in his get-up.  We ran south towards street 178, dodging cars, motos, jeers and catcalls the whole way.  I was only a little sad when I discovered that all the compliments regarding breasts were directed at Blah Blah.  At some point we discovered a hole in the bag of flour, and that we were essentially leaving a Hansel und Gretel-like trail for the pack, and sure enough were soon snared by two Bangkok foreign spies, who hadn’t bothered to don anything red, much less a dress.

The first stop of the piss-up – I mean pub crawl was Gym Bar, where affable Randall and a couple unfortunate regulars were treated to the horrifying sight of a bunch of sweaty, thirsty runners in various states of red undress.  After a beer and a chance to catch our breath and wait for the walkers, we took off again.  We abandoned the flour and took the pack along street 19 to stop #2 – Freebird.  All were present except Phlegm, a man physically and morally unable to follow a trail, who led a few hashers astray into The Shop for reasons still unknown at the time of writing.  Best thing about Freebird: those cool, jasmine-scented washcloths that the friendly and patient staff supplied us with, and the gloriously chilly air-con.  I highly recommend it for your next running/cross-dressing/drinking triathlon.  At this point the pack should’ve been somewhat slowed, but we are a pack of over-eager, wanna-be athletes, so after another beer we took off at a fast pace north along the riverside in front of the Royal  Palace, scaring a new batch of tourists.  We hung a quick left at 136 and headed into the relative calm and cool of Huxley’s for a third refreshment.  The stops were getting to be longer than the running, and that last one almost claimed us for good, but we managed to pull ourselves out and trotted one last time upriver to street 104 and the welcoming arms of Velkommen Inn, the hash’s unofficial official pub, amid angry glares of some very jealous lady boys.  Sorry gals, but we looked hot.  Literally.

Circle:

Possibly the most exciting event of the day – quite a feat considering – was the appearance of long-lost RA Flaccido Domingo, and his family.  Wait, what?  Yes, wife and two children.  According to F. Domingo:  everyone knew this as he talked about them all the time.  According to everyone else:  huh?  However, they were very sweet and lovely and we hope to see them again at hash soon.

Moving on:  beer and popcorn flowing, we formed an amoeba-shaped circle around the front of Velkommen and kicked off a wobbly circle.  Various punishments were awarded, but not enough in my opinion.  Many men who turned up in red pants and t-shirts were spared, as was Available for $60 for impersonating a lady bug.  A sexiest outfit contest saw STD pitted against Phlegm, Maynot and Cuntsultant, with Phlegm and Maynot getting the most cheers and being forced into a compromising position to drink with their arms linked.

After we hung around Velkommen to watch the day fade and the neon lights of the bars on the street flick on, and eventually all dispersed.

Good work, folks.  On On!

HASH FLASH

Did you know…

That Saturday, July 11th is the annual Red Dress Run, the Hash’s attempt to give a little back to the country that has given us so much (beer, wasp stings, etc).

Meet: 2:30pm at the Post Office
*note, NOT train station

Wear:  a red dress.  If you are stuck for ideas, see the photos above.  One of the group and one a close-up of Fester, descending the steps of the post office.

Your usual $5 contribution will be donated to charity.  Charity to be named soon.   See you there!

P2H3 Run #906 – Dog On Heat Memorial Run

Date:  29/3/2009

Hares:  Blah Blah & Co. (run), Madame Ovary (walk)

Run Report:  Yogi Bra

A good-sized crowd turned out for the one-year anniversary of the untimely passing of Dog On Heat, an eminent runner and dedicated hasher.

Armed with sacks of flour from Lucky and too much energy for someone who supposedly woke at 5am and drove that morning from Kampong Cham, GM Blah Blah set off for a live hare with a slightly different format.  In a long, hot game of tag, Blah Blah and the hare set off with their flour and a small head start.  Once the hare was caught the tagger became the new hare and the process continued.

Of course the first hare chosen was a virgin.  But he gamely agreed to leave his friends and head off into the woods with Blah Blah – fairly brave of him.  He was eventually caught by Wannacracker who managed to stay ahead of the pack until the half way.  Runswell, Simon, Dutchie, Thong Flasher, Kate B. and Karl came close but none could catch him.

The lucky draw winner to kick off haring after the half-way was none other than Fester.  After Phlegm stripped him of his wallet so he couldn’t live hare on a moto, he galloped off after Blah Blah, faster than a speeding tuk tuk.  Unsurprisingly Simon caught him quickly, and took over hare-mantle for the remainder of the run.  All would have gone smoothly had the hares not accidentally stumbled across a short-cutting, walking Phlegm, who “caught” them.

Circle

This week saw the return of hash choirettes The Sirens, consisting of Thong Flasher, Love Bite, Yogi Bra and SuMing who provided much raunchy merriment to the proceedings.  GM Blah Blah and AGM Milky Discharge took the reigns and got down to business.  Virgins, Foreign Spies, and Returnees were all anointed in beer.  Laverne celebrated a special anniversary, having completed 290 runs.

The usually overzealous RA Flaccido Domingo was even more heated than usual, maybe due to sunstroke.  He began by calling in Blah Blah, Phlegm and the other bourgeoisie elite for their fishing trip.  Then Love Bite joined in the fray by dragging in all the fashion victims.  Little Boy and some virgins were punished for hailing from Michigan – something to do with the GM plant closing, I believe.  Yankee Wanker and Agrippa were made to drink from their huge, blocky hiking boots.  Then all the Swedes — Milky, Agrippa and a virgin — were brought in and serenaded by Blah Blah with an ABBA song.

On the international crisis front, the biggest problem we could come up with was the imminent flooding in Fargo, North Dakota.  All North Americans were brought in to form a towering dyke with their potties, and Dutch Dorienne had to stick her finger in it.  After a rousing rendition of God Bless America the dyke was dismantled, the Dutchwoman released.

There was also some weirdness involving Agrippa and foreskin, the less said about that the better.  Almost as disturbing was Wanker and Flasher’s dance to try to distract the hash and change the subject.  People, everyone knows that Blah Blah is the Lord of the Dance on the hash, and will perform everything from the Russian Cossack dance to the pas de deux from Swan Lake with little or no encouragement.  Please, leave him his mantle.

12 hours later we finally closed circle, and it was on to the on on on at the Golden Thatching, where Dog On Heat was toasted again.  Amen.

P2H3 Run # 900 & 901 – Weekend Extravaganza

Dates: 21/2/2009 & 22/2/2009

Hares 900^th: Leaking Duck, Mr Tinkle (running), Pissalot (walking)

Hares 901^st: Little Boy (cycling), Madam Ovaries (passenger)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

A Cyclical Swim

And the pack sweated as it boarded the truck in the blazing sun and cried out to the GM in their despair “oh where is this much promised pool and bbq for we desire it s,.” to which he replied in a kindly voice,  “Stop whinging you ungrateful bastards, the pool is but nearby.” And the pack saw it was so and were glad [Hops 13:16]

The pack hesitated as it pondered its fate, for its collective head did throbeth from the day prior.  “Fear not,” cried the hare, “for I haveth a fleet of wheeled conveyances.” And the pack did collapse into the cyclos, though some were still beer addled and found themselves cycling instead.  [Hangover 4:02]

They say the path to enlightenment is not a short one, and accordingly the drive to the Buddhist centre under construction out near Banteay Daek was one that must have been illuminating indeed.  After many a twist and turn and a constant “are we there yet?” from our illustrious RA, Flaccido Domingo, we arrived at the centre.

It was indeed a different run.  How two of the least reverent members of the hash found themselves weaving amongst temples and bridges was beyond the ken of the pack.  The theory that they were closet Buddhist monks wasn’t even raised.  None-the-less they managed it and it was a pleasant run indeed with Milky Discharge showing particular interest in the diorama and Hold ‘Em enjoying the friezes under construction at another temple site.

The pack was hot, however, and all adjourned to Club Evergreen where a large pool and BBQ awaited.  Runs Well, Wanna Cracker and Catwalk Boy got the BBQ started whilst the pack soaked their sore muscles in the pool which was rapidly gathering a surface sheen of Anchor.

Circle was held in the pool with many spurious charges laid.  The Sirens, consisting of Yogi Bra, Love Bite, Suming and Horny Cow were in full swing and Choir Master STD revealed he had indeed been harbouring his wooden instrument all along.

At some stage an outbreak of water polo, hash style, broke out though the only thing agree on was the fact that Dutchie and Check Around were on opposite teams.  Players swapped sides mid play, Yap Yap kept moving the goals and no-one kept score.  A true hash event indeed.

The next day a rather reduced pack staggered to the railway station for the cyclo hang-over run.  Little Boy and Madam Ovary had organised a large gathering of cyclos.  A few hardy hashers placed their cyclo driver in the front seat and adopted the drivers position, however most succumbed to temptation, grabbed a cold can of Anchor, and settled in for the ride.

A trip through Tuol Kork and back to the Japanese bridge saw a couple of close calls however despite the packs best efforts it failed to hit a single car.  Better luck next year.  The half way was at the post office where Yogi Bra (who had been running) realised how foolish such an undertaking was and accepted a ride from the gallant Milky Discharge.  Lisa was determined to cycle her driver (who looked concerned) and Fold ‘Em did her best to lead the pack astray with Laverne, but still managed to find the half way.

As usual the pack went everywhere but the trail yet managed to find their way back due to the powerful lure of beer.  Pipe Organ ran the second half, however Vacuum decline to join him, preferring to berate him from her seat.

The cycle ended at Château Blah Yap where Hold ‘Em took on the job of RA for the day.  Afterwards it was on-on-on to Irrawaddy where Squint Westward happily ordered vegetarian to no avail and Phlegm and Chick Pea made a belated entrance yet still found food aplenty.  Rumour has it that it all ended in chocolate……… make of that what you will.

On On!

Hash Ball 2008

Date:  22/11/2008

Event:  Hash Ball

Ball Report:  Yogi Bra

The Hash cleans up nice. Who knew everyone looked so pretty when they’re not covered in mud and sweat on the back of a truck or slogging through a rice paddy.  The Khmer ladies did not disappoint, strutting their stuff with sparkling finery and artfully coiffed manes.  The rest of us looked ok, but clearly do not know the meaning of “dressing up”.  The evening began with champagne and live classical music in the garden, a lovely slide show of all of us covered in mud and sweat on the back of a truck, and slogging through rice paddies, some food, some wine, some beer, then upstairs for circle.  Hasher of the year:  Laverne.  Hare of the Year:  Flaccido.  Trail of the Year:  Phlegm.  Run Report of the year:  Ikea.  Lifetime Hashing Achievement Award:  Blitzkrieg.

Then onto dancing.  Everyone got their hooch on and danced to an inspiring collection of gangster rap and Khmer pop.  Again thanks to the fashion sense of the Khmers, there were more outfit changes than a Spanish soap opera awards show, and they put on outfit number 2 (or 3) and got down to business.

The Mr. Tinkle show does not disappoint. After much revelry, Mr. Tinkle abandoned his sense of decorum and underwear, and treated us all to a memorable dance.  Did no one see this coming?  Apparently not satisfied with the few rave reviews he got, he asked Escort Services and Yogi Bra several days later whether they attended the show and if they agreed with the reviews.  Poor Mrs. Tinkle was less than pleased with the performance and practiced her backhand on her betrothed’s face.  In fact, many wives’ wrists were sore the next morning, and not for the usual reasons.  There was more slapping at that party than in a British comedy of manners, but no serious harm was done and all emerged intact, if a bit hung over.  All in all the evening ended up a fun bit of revelry for a group of people who take revelry quite seriously.

On On to 2009!

P2H3 Run #874 – Erection Week, Up Sh*t Creek with no Paddle!

Run Date: 31/8/2008

Hares: Leaking Duck, Phlegm, Chickpea (walking)

Run Report: Kate

The Poseidon adventure continues for the hash as they endure another soaking.  On the bright side, hashers’ free-style and backstrokes have improved considerably.

Summer break is over and the virgins have drifted back to their native shores, only to be replaced by a boatload of foreign spies, including an entire family of hashers.  “I was born on the hash!” exclaimed the son.  Good lord.

After a brief stop at the Leaking Duck mansion, the runners and walkers were segregated and the runners dumped at a pagoda 8km south.  Hashers predicted an easy run due to the erections and gala slated for later that evening, but the hares had other plans.  True to character, Phlegm (on his 150th Hare) set a lengthy A to B run in the verdant, drenched countryside, through rice paddies and into the forest.  True to his hash name, Leaking Duck sent us through crotch-skimming water (see hash snaps for frightening evidence of Flying Plod and Phlegm trying to keep their, um, shorts dry).  Perhaps hash haberdashery could whip us up some rubber hip-waders.  Rubbed Raw, in possession of the golden horn, played a mournful sea shanty as the pack slogged, single file, grumbling about leaches and water snakes.  “This is just like the Vietnam war!” exclaimed a young hasher.  Yes, that’s exactly what it was like, as STD mounted a submarine attack from the grimy depths.

Just when the pack emerged onto dry land, thanking heaven for deliverance from all things wet, black clouds began to roll in across the sky.  True to character, the rainy season did its thing and we were soon running under pounding rain.  Over the din of the storm you could hear hashers exclaiming things like, ‘hey, it’s wet!‘ and, ‘I didn’t know it would rain?!‘  Were it not called the rainy season, one might sympathize with these soggy whingers.

Many of the roads turned instantly into muddy rivers, causing much slipping, sliding and whining, though hashers are now sporting curiously fresh, glowing skin from all the mud (people in L.A. pay big money for the stuff).  One foreign spy got trapped in the mud, requiring a deep-sea rescue, Blah Blah twisted his ankle, and it turns out Blitzkrieg’s teleporter can transform into a hydroplane and he was seen cruising by in a Panama hat, puffing a Cuban cigar.

The pack eventually found the pagoda where the truck was moored, and it was a smooth sailing back, marred only by a condom-clad, hitch-hiking Tokyo Joe and his unfortunate companion (in a fetching French condom).  Once the truck anchored at the port, hashers stampeded off, over Leaking Duck’s cries to hose off before diving into his pool.

Water-logged hashers gathered around the grill for warmth, while a few brave souls went swimming (hopefully the same ones complaining about getting wet earlier).  Blah Blah rounded up the circle and the erections were underway.  Voting machines from Palm Beach county, Florida were brought in for the occasion, and a free and unfair erection followed (see Erection Results 2008 for details).

Afterwards, the hares were showered with many complaints about rain (this again?), mud, insects, heat, basically all the things you’d expect to find in the rural areas of a tropical, developing country.  Newly erected and raring to go RA Flaccido Domingo strode to the pulpit ready to take over the flock, but was wrestled to the ground by acting RA Rubbed Raw, who still had legal control over the wayward hashers and wanted one last chance to flog the sinners.  Those being forced to walk the plank:  Paulette for not being able to hold her water, Wannacracker for tripping over cow tethers, STD for charging through the water, Fester for shameless public nudity, Tokyo Joe for general shamelessness (he actually lifted his condom and flashed some leg to get the driver to stop).

With Blah Blah back at the helm, the old committee was banished and the new committee (who bore a striking resemblance to the predecessors), were ushered in.  The smell of roasting meat and darkening skies were drawing hashers’ attention away, but it was Chickpea’s damning charge to Blah Blah, pointing to his shorts, that she saw no sign of this heavily-touted erection that caused an abrupt end to the circle and got us all to the dinner table.  Merci, mon cherie.

A divine feast followed, with hashers warmed by the fire, breaking into song, and drowning in beer.  Many thanks to all who helped prepare, and much gratitude to Leaking Duck and Pissalot for their hospitality and for a lovely evening.

On On!

P2H3 Run #865 – Skun Run To Remember Dog on Heat

Hares: Runs Well, Wannacracker and Sarsy

Date: 5/7/08

Run report: Ikea

This Saturday marked 100 days (or near enough to) since our good friend and FRB Dog on Heat sprinted off into the sunset calling ‘On On and Up’ over his shoulder. About 15 hashers made it up the highway to Skun for the opportunity to pay respects at his gravesite.

It was damn warm out there in the fields. Running in the 11am sun at this time of year is for the dogs — though even the dogs were too sunstruck to attack with their normal gusto. Thoughtfully, Hares Sarsy, Wannacracker and Runs Well laid a short 5km dash, taking us around the brick kilns, through the fields and small lakes (with much leaping and squelching) and then back to the beer via a well-judged holding at Dog on Heat’s resting place. Apparently, in laying the trail, Sarsy had been lucky not become someone’s bitch in the local clink as his spraypainting attracted the attention of the gendarmerie (the charge: crop poisoning).

Back at the cars, formalities took place in the scant shade offered by a single palm tree. RA Rubbed Raw was in a benevolent mood or just befuddled after cycling the 80kms to Skun. When Dog on Heat proved unwilling or unable to join us for his down down, his potty was handed on to Runs Well. Walking terrorists Sandy Crevices and Lois received punishment for carelessly destroying a fish trap. The gaggle of curious local kids covered their ears during the hash songs (the lyrics were fine, it was the tune they found offensive). ‘You sure are no Krum Ngoys’, shouted one of the mini critics. GM Blah Blah then offered up a few short words (thanks be to God he doesn’t know any long ones!) concerning the occasion.

The group then adjourned to a Skun restaurant to swill the remainder of the beer and inspect the insect and spider situation. The live tarantulas are looking yummy yummy in my tummy and the cricket harvest seems to have been very strong this year. Good news.

ON ON

P2H3 Run # 863 – The Second Annual Red Dress Run

Date: 28/6/08

Hare: Bronco Buster

Run report: Ikea

About thirty runners and walkers flounced down to the post office for the start of Red Dress Run 2008. This, the second of the RDRs in P2H3 history, seems likely now to be an annual (note the correct spelling there) fixture on the Hash calendar. Around $160 was collected for Friends NGO.

Hare Bronco Buster, a vision in her lacy halloween-inspired frock, has been a vigorous promoter of the red dress run and this year she prepared for us a tour of the capital’s charities. The runners began with a circuit of Wat Phnom, where fine trumpet work from Milky Discharge (looking frankly monstrous in a little girl’s dress with a front pocket for the beer) made Sambo the elephant uneasy. The head scratching over the route then began at the first station. The charities were difficult to recognise (the CPP is a charity, eh?) or find when the street addresses on the worksheet did not compute with the actual situation on the ground as we found it in 2008. We all started off with pencils and paper but most threw them away and let conscientious student HE GM Blah Blah do all the filling-in.

One problem with the recent police crackdown on girlie bars and naughty dealings in the capital is that it forces individuals like Little (lady)Boy out onto the streets to take their chances. His curvaceous (possibly enhanced) red figure and flowing locks all topped by a glorious floral sun hat, was very NOW and attracted plenty of attention, turning inevitably to groping by motodops driven into an uncontrollable sex-frenzy. Madame Ovary was for once put in the shade by her counterpart and was reported to be wild with jealousy over Little Ladyboy’s suitors. As the only frocked up male on the walk it was truly a walk of shame by LB, so – respect.

The runners were almost all as beautifully turned out (Horny Cow, Kate and a virgin even managed to look as if a red dress was a normal part of their running wardrobe) but moving faster there was less time for the populace to become aroused. Foremost may have been Wankee Yankee in a cheesecloth-inspired effort and a curly wig. While he surely made a very fugly lady, his attention to small details, like that red garter, won him many admirering stares. Yap Yap and GM Blah Blah had the same dresses tailored for the run, and if Yap Yap managed to look good and run at the same time, Blah Blah (also bewigged) came over like a washed up tranny from a 1970s glam rock band.

The running group was led as usual by Rubbed Raw. His slutty red form powered away and it was notable that he made no attempt to ensure the material didn’t ride up his thighs. When Thida (Herring Choker’s other half) was later seen wearing the exact same outfit, but as a TOP, Rubbed Raw’s shameless harlotry was revealed for all to see. At one stage, he decided to run away from the group, only to come slutting back for moral support when he realised that in the group there was some context to what he was wearing.

The runners were wilting like roses in the hot conditions (this is why we normally run in the countryside, cooler) and the half-way stop at Friends was extremely welcome. We sucked down some red watermelon and water before handing over the collected cash to the Friends representative. All agreed that shortcutting home along the riverfront to the beer would be the best decision (naturally Phlegm had already done this) in the course of which Mr Tinkle was seen at a pub, not wearing red and claiming to be sick.

The circle took place in front of Pontoon. Shoppers like Kate (book buying must stop on this hash), a sarong wearing Wide Angle and others were reprimanded. For the first time in many moons, serial litigant Flaccido Domingo won a case brought against another hasher, this time by relating Nora’s sloppiness at performing her haring duties. The evidence was undeniable, the crime heinous. Flaccido was then himself duly punished for his very strange African dress/sarong/shorts ensemble and joined in purgatory by Tim in his vaguely red torn up shirt skirt. No points for trying. A bunch of hashers (including Paulette, Laverne and Piglet) were down downed for sitting in the circle and then the merriment finally adjourned to the Velkommen inn on street 104.  There hashers were treated to an elightening DVD of the original San Diego Red Dress Run (thanks to Bronco). We can see that next year we must try harder to sink the Red Dress Run to even greater depths of depravity.

ON ON