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

Date : 8/11/09

Hare:  Blitzkreig

Run Report:  Blah Blah

And the pack did marvel at the hill of Phnom Prassat, for such a sight was rare to behold.  Yet they suffered in their ignorance for little were they aware that going up such hills meant going down again…. and up again…. and down again….. and up again….. for the hills had many sides and the hare liketh the view with uncommon fervour. [Malt 3:05]

On the hill lived a Blitzkreig.  Not a nice round hill with grassy slopes upon which impossibly fluffy sheep grazed, nor a sharp impressive hill with sterling views and goats teetering on dramatic cliff face drops.  It was a Blitzkreig hill, and that meant discomfort.

One day Blitzkreig was smoking his German ganja when along came the wizard Scoutmaster with his grey hair and bushy eyebrows and declared that he had to go to the lonely mountain, Phnom Prassat, to rescue cold Anchor beer from its evil aluminum casing.  “Bugger off,” declared Blitzkreig, “I’m no good at adventures, they make you late for supper.”   Scoutmaster laughed and declared that Herring Choker would frown upon this as trail master and would have his wicked Viking way with Blitzkreig if he didn’t conform.  And thus Blitzkreig found himself setting the trail on his final run which happened to be his 202^nd birthday.

Blitzkreig was joined on the trail by his completely untrustworthy companions Mr Tinkle, Runs Well, Wannacracker, Yap Yap, Little Willy and STD amongst others.  As they were journeying they came across the evil trolls May Not, Hit on Me and Botticelli who were leading the walkers astray.  Before you could say “where did that French girl go?”  virgins and Camille and Maria were gobbled up by the visiting walking troll Kiss Me.  It would have gone badly then but Mr Tinkle had a quick slash which splattered the troll’s legs and turned him to stone.

At the halfway the wandering devious friends had a rest.  A truck appeared from nowhere and the pack ran forward to get a drink, leaving poor Blitzkreig dazed and alone.   He heard a noise and followed it to find a big green pond next to a wat where sat visitor Happy Beaver weeping and gnashing her teeth bemoaning the loss of her precious.  She started a riddle game with Blitzkreig, the first question being “what colour are your panties?” To which Blitzkreig replied, “fleshy and soft to the touch,” wherein Happy Beaver ran off screaming and Blitzkreig was saved, eventually rejoining his companions.

Eventually the untrustworthy troupe made it to the lonely mountain, Phnom Prassat, where the evil non-beer drinking Flip Flop lay awaiting, guarding jealously the hoard of beer which he would never himself partake in.  The unreliable companions were at a loss and eventually turned to Blitzkreig who came up with a wonderful idea.  “Let us use the only weapon we know of that can rid the amber trove of its sober guardian,” he declared.  And hence they charged in, with John Malloy at the fore, wielding the mighty sword Returned Empty which promptly put Flip Flop to flight.

With the amber cache rid of its dreadful guardian the pack convened a circle and much merry making ensued.  STD repeatedly gave Blitzkreig down downs to reward him for years of faithful service and Cuntsultant made declarations of a ball to be held on the 21^st of November in his honour whilst Shoots Blanks recorded the entire event for posterity.

And thus Blitzkreig’s journey came to an end and they lived happily ever after.

The End.

Date:  25/10/2009

Hares:  Mr. Tinkle, Runswell

Run Report:  Yogi Bra

With Phlegm missing, Blitzkrieg took it upon himself to do a “phlegm” (new term for moronic, disastrous short-cutting) and got himself lost.  Botticelli was in true form, miles ahead of the walkers, and had no clue as to his whereabouts (or anyone else’s).  Though he’s technically part of the runners, none of them remembered Blitzkrieg until they noticed him missing several hours later.  Oops.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Last week saw a record turn out of:  four people.  That’s right, record low.  This week the numbers increased due to an invasion of virgins and foreign spies.  Little Willie dragged along his out-of-town guest, in an attempt to increase his country’s showing at the front of the pack, even though the poor man had stepped off a transcontinental flight hours before.  However, he was one of the uber-fit, nordic types, so Willie’s effort was appreciated by the female hashers.

Comeback kid of the year Mr. Tinkle pulled off a spectacular live hare, and only got snagged 50 meters from the truck at the half-way (for more information on a truly spectacular live hare, see details of run #883).  Due to a couple weeks of sickness-induced sobriety, Mr. Tinkle was sparklingly fit and led us all on a good jaunt.  Unfortunately there was a core of super-fit runners that day, which made the live-hare job much more difficult.  In addition to the Swedes, there were the Johns (one American, one Aussie), the British foreign spy, Scoutmaster and Bulimia.  Yogi Bra first spotted the glaringly bright red shirt worn by Mr. Tinkle (brilliant choice, especially against the verdant green paddies) and sent the pack panting and slobbering after them.  In fact, if it wasn’t for the holds we never would have had a chance to pause and gaze out across the fields, where the hares were continuously spotted.  We were only slowed by a few dicey barbed wire moves.  Shoots Blanks pointed out that advanced knowledge of yoga was essential for a couple of them.  Another useful hint in live-hare runs is asking villagers which-way-did-he-go?-type questions, along with enthusiastic hand gestures.

For reasons unknown, French VC seemed incensed at the suggestion to go for the hare when he was spotted.  Despite hashing for years, he somehow didn’t know that normal rules don’t apply during live hares.  If you see the hare, you are free to go for him (or her), and ignore check-arounds, holds, etc.  He kept barking at the pack to ignore the hares and follow the marks.  Luckily no one cared or listened to him.

After the half-way at over 7kms, we did it again for another 6.  There was much water this time around, and lots of pricks.  Also lots of those annoying, painful thorn bushes.  Bulimia warned to watch out for snakes in the water, though with some of the less savory hashers missing, we were all relieved that we’d only be in danger of life-threatening snake bites and not syphilis.

Bulimia.  Why does no one know his hash name?  The poor guy shows up, has run numerous times with us and the GASH (Girl’s Association Saturday Hash), and is rewarded by having us forget who he is every time.

Given the distance to Phnom Brassat, the long run (over 12 kms in all), and the late-coming walkers and Blitzkriegs, things ran quite late.  Using echo-location, Scoutmaster conducted circle in total darkness.  Yogi Bra as stand-in RA had to feel around in the dark for signs of impropriety, which was appreciated by all.  Feeling her way along the circle, she unsurprisingly chose to punish those that were way too fit.  She grabbed the uber-fit Swede and the British foreign spy for racism, since those two blokes were up at the front the whole time despite not being entirely sure what was going on.  They were quite upset with the charge until they learned the hash meaning to that word.  She managed to stroke a few other buff sinners, but stopped before her luck ran out and she got a handful of someone she didn’t fancy.

The truck ride on the way home was a washout, and hashers huddled together on the floor for warmth in the driving rain.  Thus the truck delivered a pack of soggy, drunk, smelly things to Scoutmaster’s wife’s restaurant.  This woman is far too kind to us.  We repay her by outdoing our appearance and smell by even worse behaviour.  I will attempt to repay her by plugging her establishment:

Eat at Restaurant 294, the food is delicious and ridiculously cheap.  Located at the corner of Street 63 and 294 in fashionable BKK1, the spotless interior (when we’re not around) is matched by friendly staff in a relaxed, comfortable environment.

If anyone else would like to be shamelessly plugged by Yogi Bra on this site or in the pages of Asia Life, get out your wallet and pick up the phone.

Viva free and fair press in Cambodia!

On On!!

Date: 17^th & 18^th October 2009

Hares:  Runs Well & Wannacracker

Run Report: Blah Blah

“I believe an early beer may fix our unsavoury state,” declared one hasher as he cracked open a can.  “Yet the clock has just reached 10:20am,” declared another.  And the saw it was so and wept for they had wasted much time ‘ere they began drinking. [Hangover 4:03]

[Narrative:] “Kampong Chhnang, the final frontier.  These are the voyages of the P2H3 outstation run.  Its mission: to explore strange new bars, to seek out inundated paddy and poor, unsuspecting rural villagers, to boldly go where no hash has gone before”

[Cue: screen shot of a dilapidated Cambodian bus slowly gathering speed down Highway 5, approaching warp (60kmph) and then brakes to a screeching halt.  Spillage leaps from the bus and rushes to the side to urinate]

[Scene 1:] Sarsy is wielding a big stick trying to force hashers onto the bus at 8:00am.  May Not is asleep in the back of Blah Blah’s car having just gotten home. Sarsy realises the stick is not working lays a trail of full beer cans to the bus.  The hashers, led by Piglet and Number One, follow the trail of cans into the bus and hence are deported to the wilds of Kampong Chhnang.

[Cue music: “We’re all goin’ onna, summer holiday”]

[Scene 2:] Runs Well and Wannacracker are unable to decide if the run is 10km or 12km without a half-way on the other side of the river from Kampong Chhnang.  Louise surreptitiously backs onto the walkers’ remora hoping no-one will notice.  Phlegm has a sudden, urgent need to carry baby Louise.  Runners pack inexplicably diminishes.

[Cue music: “The Great Escape”]

[Scene 3:]  Yap Yap has given her water to a small village girl to carry.  Toxic Flop has headed off the wrong way despite a clear arrow.  Herring Choker and Little Willy watch Toxic Flop heading into the distance, possibly nearing Kampong Thom, whilst giggling hysterically. Shoots Blanks is now missing, presumed either dead or joined with the walkers.

[Cue music: “I think we’re alone now”]

[Scene 4:] Most of the hash has headed up a mountain being led by Runs Well and Flip Flop.  The walkers have joined though Barby Doll and Tips return after going three quarters of the journey. Vannary uses pregnancy as an excuse for going only halfway.  Blah Blah and Herring Choker sneak back to get stuck into the beer before anyone else has a chance.  Phillipe joins them.  They discover Sarsy has been there the entire time sipping the Anchor and feel cheated.

[Cue music:  “Return to Sender”]

[Scene 5:] Party at the Sovann Phum Hotel.  Footloose and Catwalk Boy have unleashed a light and dance show.  Alexander is break dancing whilst Chick Pea proves she still has the groove.  Blah Blah still thinks he can Cossack dance.  Frenchie is demolishing the food and Leking Duck has finally arrived with Bulimia and Son of Bitch in tow.

[Cue music:  “Dancing Queen”]

[Scene 6:]  A new day.  The runners are between sharp forested hills in fields of brilliant green paddy.  The view is stunning however Herring Choker fails to notice as he is about to throw up.  Leking Duck is already missing.  The hangover run is aptly named.

[Cue music: “Red, red wine”]

[Scene 7: ] The pack has been to the airport and is now in Runs Wells’ father’s former place of work.  Flip Flop is made RA and is ensuring Returned Empty is receiving many down downs.  Offers for a place to sleep for Flip Flop upon returning to Phnom Penh are made.

[Cue music: “It wasn’t me”]

[Scene 8:]  The heavens have opened and the pack has fed.  Runs Well declares that the pottery tour is cancelled due to the onslaught of rain and jumps onto his motor bike to battle with the elements.  Abuser files an official complaint to the constitutionally approved Hash Complaints Commission.  The HCC takes one look at the rain and finds in favour of Runs Well.

[Cue music: “Singing in the rain”]

[Closing Scene:] screen shot of a dilapidated Cambodian bus slowly gathering speed down Highway 5, approaching warp (60kmph) and then brakes to a screeching halt.  Spillage attempts to leap from the bus to urinate but is restrained by unseen hands.  Bus reaches warp and streaks into the distance.

[Cue music: “Star Trekkin’”]

and…… cut

On On

Date: 11/10/09

Hares: Little Willy & Yogi Bra (running/freestyle), Heta (walking/breast stroke)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

And the pack did cry out to the hare, “what, through all that water?  You bloody mad?” And the hare did smirk in response and did say unto them, “it is not deep, for it comes only to my waist.” Yet some hashers did note that they themselves were barely taller than the waist of yonder hare and did feel fear and loathing unto him. [Hops 13:14]

How often will a hasher go down, so to speak.  The answer varies to this most perplexing of questions and most scientists merely shrug their shoulders and mutter something about quantum before trying to change the subject to easier topics, such as neuroscience or astrophysics.  However Drs Little Willy, Yogi Bra and Heta were not to be dissuaded and undertook the most audacious of experiments in a gallant attempt to corner the Nobel Prize for Science.

Step 1:  Select a Problem: there have been several complaints from people having encountered hashers in various states of sobriety in a range of environments from paddy fields to seedy bars that they fail to go down, so to speak.  STD vehemently denies this and is suing on the grounds of disinformation.

Step 2: Determine Dependent Variables: these were defined as (i) flood ravaged paddy fields cum swamp near the Killing Fields and (ii) the number of times hashers went down.  Little Boy was excluded and sent to join the walkers at this point due to potential damage to said experimental paddy.

Step 3: Determine Independent Variables: defined primarily as sobriety of said hashers.  Given Yap Yap’s football watching/drinking into the wee hours, Sarsy still sobering up from the week prior and Little Willy’s attendance at Oktober Fest festivities the night prior there was plenty of material to work with.  Yogi Bra even contributed by getting stuck into free margaritas at lunch time in a bid to spice up the experiment.

Step 4 & 5: Determine Possible Combinations and Number of Observations: Germinator went down and found crabs (true story) whilst Herring Choker went down to observe a frog (so he claims).

Step 6:  Redesign: apparently was done when Heta took the walkers off on the runners trail on the second half, which was damper than the first half, to put it mildly.  May Not summed it up by asking when the cycling leg would begin.

Step 8:  Randomization: was achieved by Phelgm who took baby Louise at the half way and took a rather random way home, arriving well after the rest of the pack.  Chick Pea was not amused.

Step 9: Meet Ethical and Legal Requirements: ahahahahahahaha, sorry, I really shouldn’t lau….aaahahahahahhahahaha!

Step 10:  Mathematical Modeling: was performed by Alexander Virit who, straight out of a scene from “Are You Smarter Than a 5^th Grader”, was the only person who could calculate where Phlegm went with  baby Louise and when he’d arrive.  Spooky.

Steps 11 & 12:  Data Collection and Reduction: was undertaken by a myriad of hashers from virgins such as Ursula to foreign spies such as Wet Back Mount Him, all of whom determined to show they could go down like the most seasoned of Cambodian hashers. STD attempted data reduction by narrowing the field down to a wet t-shirt competition however since the best candidate was Flip Flop until trumped by Little Boy he abandoned the whole concept in disgust.

Step 13: Data Verification: was undertaken in the circle by GM Scoutmaster who noted those who’d gone down with gay abandon (to borrow a phrase).  Dirty backs, grizzling hashers and bemused locals all assisted in the data verification process.

So, after the experiment was undertaken what was the answer to this most perplexing of questions?  Apparently hashers do go down, so to speak, provided they are given the correct incentives namely (i) beer, (ii) mud, (iii) beer, (iv) irrigation ditches and, most importantly, (v) beer.  This means the number is provided by the formula (3b x m x id/km).

The Nobel Prize awaits.

On On

Date: 4/10/2009

Hares:  Runs Well (running) & Sarsy (not running)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

“Where for art thou half-way beer stop?” cried one hasher at a hold.  “There be no stopeth,” declared the hare, “for we finish at a brewery and wish to make haste,” and the pack was confused for it wanted beer both now and in the future.  [Hops 13:09]

It is official.  Sarsy can organise a piss-up in a brewery.  When he’ll learn to tie his shoelaces remains one for the bookies.  Yes, for those of you who missed it, there was a Tiger Brewery run where those wonderful sponsors, Cambodia Brewery Limited – suppliers of bountiful amounts of Anchor – made the annual mistake of letting us into the brewery.

I’m going to have to work hard here to remember what went on as with unusual foresight I left the wheeled menace home and joined the plebian majority on laan-thom.  From hazy recollection the run consisted of two holds and no halfway in a valiant bid to have the run over and done with and the drinking started in good time.

Runs Well showed his usual impatience as hare, spending a good percentage of the time at the front.  Despite there being only two holds, Wannacracker still wandered off to gain advantage.  There seem to be some recollections involving Leaking Duck and STD walking and I definitely remember Herring Choker struggling towards the end however maintaining a decent pace.  I also can remember Yap Yap, though that’s probably because we’re married.  May Not turned up at the end of the run on his scooter looking like an extra from a Sophia Laurent movie.

I’m not sure what happened to the walkers, however since I bumped into some of them at the brewery I assume they made it back.

There was a circle, so I assume that GM Scoutmaster made it to the run.  The hares ended up on the ice however since it was a brewery run they weren’t there for too long.  I believe the main crime consisted of the lack of a halfway.  A rather tall American virgin joined the circle with his shirt off so I left mine on when I had to join him in the circle so he wouldn’t feel bad.  My kindness knows no bounds.  Beaver Shot joined us from Thailand once again and Piglet brought some guy (Mark, Matt, Michael?) from work….. so she claims.

We made our way into the brewery where Herring Choker was chugging back his 8^th beer having decided to forgo festivities for the brewery bar.   This left us all with a sense of injustice that we did our best to drown out with ice Tiger.  Sarsy was seen clutching a quarter yard glass at one stage and I heard something about Isaac having to be restrained from swan diving into the vats whilst on the brewery tour. No Meat No Balls from Frankfurt was in German heaven and even Laverne was spotted throwing them back.  Germinator was keen to show she really was from Darwin and Little Willy was seen giggling into his mug.

I’m now rather confident that GM Scoutmaster was present as I seem to recall leaving Restaurant 294.  How I arrived there remains a mystery.

On On

Date: 27/9/2009

Hares: Bulimia (running) & Little Boy (walking)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

And one hasher did bravely go forth.  “This way appeareth shallow,” he did declare, “you need wade in waste high mud no longer for the path ist cleareth in this direction.” And the pack did marvel for it did appear so.  “See,” he cried, “I toldeth you… glop, glug..aaargh”.  [Hops 13:08]

It was wet.  I don’t mean in the pouring rain, water around the shins wet.  I mean in the slippery, groin straining, face planting, boggy swamp version of the term.  It was so boggy that there were reports of water buffalo refusing to enter the same area.  It was so boggy that the locals were learning the banjo and commenting on hashers’ “purty lips”.  It was so boggy that at the end of the run Wannacracker threatened to bathe.  It was so boggy that Comes First rolled her pants up to the unmentionables.

The hares though were all consideration with a brisk 5 or 6 km’s of road to run along to dry out the shoes, a distance that Mr Tinkle had ‘views’ upon.  Even Toxic Flop fell off the pace whilst Yogi Bra was reduced the shortcutting.

And how many hashers did we lose.  One, not even close.  Two, still not there.  Three, yes three hashers went AWOL.  One was the weekly disappearance of Phlegm, who was joined by Ugly Knees.  Both made it to the last hold however in a fit of shortcutting never found the finish on this A to B run and I assume found a moto home.   The other was a virgin who didn’t run or walk but stayed with the truck yet still managed to get lost (queue X-Files music).

Yes, there was ice at the end of the run.

The beer eventually arrived and the pack managed to hose itself off as best as possible and leapt into the available pool in various states of dress.  Little Willy’s eldest turned out to be about 4cm too short for the shallow end however it turns out he can hop from the bottom to catch the occasional breath for quite some time.  The call to the circle was made and was met by derision from May Not and Westel Wirgin upon learning that it was not be held in the pool.

The hares had managed to set up a fine meal on the upper decks of the establishment we had invaded.  The pack took one look at the fine cutlery and china plates and began eating with all the etiquette of Norman yeomen after an evening of mulled wine and hot mead.

In the end the pack was delayed from leaving for GM Scoutmaster’s car had become stuck, quite fittingly, in the mud.

On On

ANNOUNCEMENTS:

1. Bring your bathing suit to hash this Sunday! says Little Boy.

Little Boy and Morten are hares for this Sunday’s hash, and for Saturday’s GASH (Girl’s Association Saturday Hash) so anyone GASHing Saturday should do the same.

2. Let’s Go to Burma!

Some of us are going to Burma for Inter Mekong Hash 2009.  Join us!  In case you didn’t get enough of us on Sundays we can now all be drunk and disorderly together in a country with much stiffer penalties and a prison system that makes Tuol Sleng look like EuroDisney.  Don’t you want to come?!  Contact one of us or leave your email on the comments section for more info.  Or just go to their website and leave us out of it:  http://www.yangonhashhouseharriers.com/?page_id=7

3. Upcoming Events

Exciting things on the horizon including: Some kind of brewery run, some sort of outstation run in Kampong Chhang organized by Runswell, some kind of charity run thing-y in Pursat, The Hash Ball (duck and protect your face), and The Angkor Wat Half-Marathon.  Stay tuned for details, hopefully provided by someone who actually knows what’s going on.

On On Baby!

love, Yogi Bra

Date: 20/9/2009

Hares:  Phlegm (running), Chickpea & Baby Louise (walking)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

As the pack set forth the hare did declare that all feet shall remain drieth for the length of yonder run.  “The hare has gone softeth,” the pack did loudly declare.  Yet in the secret part of their hearts, wherein lies wonton, covetous longings for their neighbour’s attractive spouse, they were glad. [Hops 13:05]

It would appear that the previous week’s run/swim had a left an indelible mark on the hares as Phlegm, ChickPea & Baby Louise sought far and wide for a run that would keep the feet free of the hydrogen-oxygen combination that all hashers both love and fear (the former on a run, the latter as a drink).  Hence the Pchum Ben reduced pack trundled off to somewhere near the Kandal/Takeo/Kampong Speu border for a saunter amongst the rather pleasant rice paddies and irrigation channels.

Enough of the run.  It was a run.  If you were there, you know it.  If you weren’t I don’t have sufficient space to be eloquent and you should have been there.  Observations though, ah, they are another matter entirely.

OBSERVATION #1:  Phlegm has athlete’s foot.  This can be the only reason Phlegm worked so hard (including looping back upon himself) to avoid water.  He was afraid the tinea fungi would get into the water and affect the entire population of the region and this outbreak would result in an international WHO mission that would trace the source back to him.

OBSERVATION #2:  Little Boy is Usain Bolt.  I know he doesn’t look Jamaican however it is all a front.  Little Boy’s decision to forgo the opportunity to join the walkers at the halfway and to remain with the runners for a fast paced 9km run has exposed him for who he really is.  What Madame Ovaries will make of this discovery remains unknown at the time of writing though unofficial sources report she is rather pleased.

OBSERVATION #3:  Runs Well is sneaking beer from the vats at work.  What else to make of the Hash Beer’s decision to short cut the way home?  We thoroughly commend Runs Well for his actions (beer theft that is) and urge all hashers to take a similar approach to their own employment; especially if it involves beer.

OBSERVATION #4:  Abuser harbours a secret desire to star on COPS.  Determined to get lost and instigate a province wide, fully televised woman hunt (tapes of which would be sent to AXN), Abuser took a detour and covered her tracks to prevent pursuit.  Unfortunately her sense of direction was so bad that instead of getting lost she accidentally found the truck again.

OBSERVATION #5:   Cat Walk Boy is the inspiration for Aerobics Oz Style.  We were surprised as well I can assure you.  A real revelation from the circle, that was.  The question is which one did he inspire?  Footloose assures me it is all of them……at once.

OBSERVATION #6:  Herring Choker is fluent in Khmer.  He quite clearly must be given the way he was asking the locals for directions whilst FRB.

OBSERVATION #7:   Baby Louise Lambiotte can run.  She may not be able to walk or talk but running and spraying cans of paint appear no problem as this erstwhile hasher was named hare.  A good start and one that raises some questions as to why other hashers which share similar characteristics (crying when upset, demanding to fed whenever feeling hungry, enjoying a good cuddle whilst belching) have failed to set runs in recent times.  You know who you are.

On On

Blah Blah

Date:  6/9/2009

Hares:  Andre, Wannacracker

Run Report:  Yogi Bra

What is it about the hash that draws people from their warm, comfy beds or off their barstools to end whatever comfort or enjoyment they were partaking in and submit themselves to rain, traffic, strenuous physical challenges, complaints galore, ridicule, debasement and beer, in that order?  Is it the sight of Blitzkrieg in his crotch-skimming shorts? Perhaps with P’chum Ben approaching people feel a need to repent for their sins.  Or maybe the full moon.  Whatever the draw, neither darkening skies nor the sight of a motley bunch of strangers who don’t quite look the running type was enough to deter the crowd who appeared, and actually stayed.  The siren song of the hash was too much for even Blah Blah and Yap Yap, who couldn’t attend the run but raced back from Sihanoukville just in the nick of time to stand around a garbage-strewn abandoned rail station and announce their intention to leave again shortly.

After some thoroughly incorrect directions from herr Andre, the bright ones scrambled into the private vehicles of the elite, and the rest mooed and jostled their way onto a truck that looked like it could break apart if it hit a pebble too fast.  And sure enough, the rains came and soon the truck was a wet, sloshing pit of despair.  Body condoms were whipped out by the more fortunate, while the rest of us batted our eyelashes and cozied up to those with the biggest condoms.

Arriving at Phnom Brasat, the cars had actually gone where the hasenpfeffer Andre told them, while the truck was someplace else entirely.  Eventually we were all reunited, and Andre undertook a thorough, detailed explanation for the wirgins, of just what kind of folly they had gotten themselves into.  The cooler skies had hashers running faster and longer than usual, and the crowded FRB field included Henrik, Runs Well, Herring Choker, Germinator, Ferdinand, Mr. Tinkle, Scoutmaster and Leaking Duck all taking an early lead.  Several of us were waylaid by an early Phlegm-cut, but made it back on track.  Phlegm, however, was not seen again until the half-way.  Not content with a mere “run” though that’s the purported raison d’etre of the hash, we soon were bushwhacking our way up the “mountain”, alternately cursing and screaming as we were set upon by snakes, pricks, red ants, tangled branches, mud slides and steep rocks.  And we paid $5 for the privilege!

What goes up must come down, and after the half-way it was a more or less straight shot back down the mountain, less bush but more rocks, and then a left hook to bring us back to… nothing.  The truck needed only to drive down a solid concrete road and turn left for 1 kilometer, but somehow this was way too much and we all sat around eating strange turnips from roadside stands, fondly reminiscing over the taste of beer.  Eventually the truck, packed with cold beer turned up the same time as more rain, though some hot grog would’ve been more velkommed.

HE GM Scoutmaster is greatly exceeding the incredibly low expectations we all had for each other at the beginning of this new administration.  Blocks of ice were called forth and asses were lowered to them for a variety of sins.  Runs Well, Mr. Tinkle, Flaccido and Andre all took turns chilling their netherlands for general incompetence.  With our elected RA having defected, Flaccido was called in to do the honors.  A foreign spy who was a US intelligence officer in the army somehow got away with merely drinking his potty.  Calls from Little Boy and Yogi Bra to water-board him, or beer-board him, went unheeded.

There hadn’t been a naming in a while, so Scoutmaster superseded the power of the RA, the Naming Czar, and the circle and called forth Andre, Henrik, Ferdinand and Thida and brought them to their knees.  Thida was first, and given her year of birth was the same as that famous blond, plastic thing, was given the name Pamela.  I mean Barbie Doll.  How and why Scoutmaster knew Barbie’s origins was a question no one wanted to answer.  Maybe next week he’ll tell us when the blow-up doll was invented.  Next up was Henrik, whose tank-like crashing and passing other hashers on the narrow trails earned him the name Little Willie, after the famous German tank.  The excellent name of Vulvo was somehow disregarded despite his Swedishness, but perhaps we can re-name him during a coup.  Andre almost got the name Didn’t Come for his failure to turn up at the GASH (where the boys get together during their time of the month for a coffee-klatch and to complain about their bodies and women).  However, his Germanness ultimately earned him the name Westal Wirgin.  That left only Ferdinand.  Due to his being Dutch and working in flood management, it was only natural that he be named Finger in the Dyke.  Thankfully the incredibly lame name of “Dutchie” was skipped, though the other suggestion for “Big Foot” would’ve been spot on.

The on on on at Scoutmaster’s wife’s place (does this place have a name?) was excellent and affordable, but things took a turn for the drunk and disorderly when several hashers stumbled across the street to torture the karaoke attendants at Champs Elysee.  Sweet revenge for all those 5am wedding monk chant-alongs.

On On to Eurovision!