Tuesday, September 23, 2014

RUN 1681 Venue: Park Hotel Hare: FOP 22 September 2014

Footy finals fever flavour for Brownlow night. Son of God, Ablettt a turd time? Son of timber merchant, Sellwood?  It was Full House in the Sportsman’s Bar on the rapidly expanding Alfredton side of town. Sure to be a successful venture with the well experienced Snow behind the bar with some lovely Lung Yadies.  Still, it was somewhat surprising to have only a dozen runners out of the 3 dozen or so Hash attendees.

Up Sturt to Salute at the Arch, into the School Yard (near where a very young JACK OFF nearly drowned as he was pinned under a borrowed trampoline) behind the Y, bordering on Lake Gardens, Trout Hatchery, Tram Shed POW Memorial, past the olympicking rings and Loreto. Deep into Vic Park where PEBBLES in his pie crust jumper was doing a GAY walk, DUMB says that’s NORMAL,  PEBBLES claimed to have rolled an ankle but as he kept on rolling it through Vic Park he had a funereal like cortege of horny hopefuls driving slowly behind him! He picked up some more strays hooded lads near the old pound. HER VAGESTY was so impressed by the bloke pulling powers of rolling an ankle she tried it in a sprainful way.  It worked! FOP focussed and the BILLY GOAT groped to the rescue, hands harrying to help harness the humpable heiress.  Word back from Hospital was the hankle will mend hardier than the hand prints. (Lucky the Courierfashionista filmed the Esmeexpose earlier.)
The drinkstop stocked lots of champers and beer including FatYaks. On Home, around the corner to the PUB, then out the back to the sound shell of the smoker’s den for the noisy crowd to do Down Downs.
Welcome Backs to anyone that missed a couple or more runs, most notably Gorgeous CLEAVAGE, Dapper SQUIZZY, & Chatty Man HEMORRHOIDS, also DONUTS (finished interviewing 16 yr olds girls),  BEER FUCK (flew the coup), NORMAL (recently deported from Thailand for touching) were amongst the many that came out to play.  Significant runs to BEER FUCK, lucky man with two fat ladies 88, MOUNTIE with 989, LOIS flew in with 727.  Christmas Day root BIRFDAYS were everywhere, including PHUKWIT PHIL, CLEAVAGE and DUMB coming soon.
HEAVY excelled in absentia one again capturing the monumental moment combining footy, screwing, brewing.  He had composed a special version of “Up there FOPCazaly”. Unfortunately due to a twist of fate and Her Vagesty’s ankle FOPturnal duties meant the PRECIOUS “Froot of his loins ” had to take one for him.  PRECIOUS was the only youngster this week (must have been busy licking each other’s wounds after last week’s big dance off.)
DUMB presided over accolades passed on to MOUNTIE from the bus driver for being the Blonde buzzing up on Black Tie Night. Some footy jokes happened and DUMB thought getting some Down Down groups together to celebrate a Hash Downlow Medal Count would fit the Bill. SPARTACUS HAWK and PUSSBUCKET SWAN were facing a drink-off now they are in the Granny together. Something that most of the older Hash blokes are into nowadays, different grannys though!
On On down for the Count and some tucker whilst watching telly. Priddisimple really!!
Next Week’s Run: Millers Arms Hotel corner Doveton and Howard Streets Hare; SILIC Theme; Prosthetics.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

RUN 1680 Venue: Bus Trip form City Oval Hareless: Shafted 15 September 2014

Just organised as a night out bussing a gut, shedding tears, wining and dining, singing and a dancing but the Trailmaster slotted it in as a Black Tie Night, Heavy wrote a special Screw song for a Black Tie Night , many wore a black tie so it was what it was.
Typically, 6PM was not so sharp, and Shafted came forth a little late as he had been to see a horse come fourth having ventured to Donald races for the afternoon. With the bus loaded with Coronas and Champers and some salty nibbles departure was affected.  Westward ho, through the Arch and right on the Ring.  We pulled up again at the infamous Shed where last year’s Mystery Bus Tour mysteriously had no bus.  We gathered in a bunch of more youthful participants, including gorgeous young ladies that collectively slashed the average age of Hash (Old Bait had brushed us off in favour of a paint brush).
Camilla once again opened his heart and his hut to hash where re-enactments of some of the more salubrious scenes of the saucy soiree staged by Salacious SOS in 2013.  (The Hash legal team had advised against revisiting the footage).  Bit parts were played by Bootrooter getting battered by boys, bespectacled search and tools narrated by SILIC, the skits went on!  A sweet new runner, friend of Bec had come as her bodyguard but was going to have a job guarding her own.  Significant runs to BENT NOSE with 1200 and PHUKWIT PHIL on 700.
A brew tub of fruity rum & wodka laced punch was dished out by Fluid Movement as the reward for many down downs.  These were punctuated by the timely front entry of FWOP & Her Vag done up to the nines with slicked up hair.  All the youngsters were lined up out the front to be paraded as the future of our great group with Plucka insisting she had the credentials to be included in the future brigade. (Hymen is to be commended on his bring-a-friend initiatives.)
Back on the Bus with our driver to journey on to Quoin Hill Winery for wine and cheese where our mate Lucky Phil the Chef was preparing our lovely chicken A La Phill and Steve and Trish put love into the beef shiraz pies. ANDY PJ found us again and delighted with dalliances of song and dance.
Heavy provided a classy masterpiece to the tune of Rod Stewart’s “Tonight’s Black Tie Night” its gonna be alright. Cause I lust for you girl. Ain’t nobody gonna stop us now. The lines rightly painted all the hash Tarts as Godesses that give our Hash lives grit.   Shafted added “Give me a home among the gum trees” as Give me a winery among the wind farms to celebrate the venue and thank the hosts. Bus Driver Ian’s fave, Lean on Me and lots of other bopping songs went on and picked up when a car load of seniors split.
The juice of the night undoubtedly was the dancing of Mounty and Plucka and…….. unfortunately the piss cut in to the memory of  the reliable source leading to some unreliability and this time there were no security cameras!! We therefore must forgive the consequent sketchy nature of recollections.  Home early and fighting fit the next day. Yeah Right!!!
Next Week’s Run: Brownlow Night at the Park Hotel in Sturt Street by FOP Theme; Footy Attire.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

RUN 1679, Venue: Miners Rest Tavern, Hare: Hyman , 8 September 2014

Like the wheels in a poker machine, possible venues for his run spun through HYMEN’S Head. We were on our way to Creswick’s Farmers Arms but last minute diversion was to the Miners Rest Tavern. At least SHAFTED was happy and LOIS LANE would have been happy with the convenience if it was last week, before she moved back into the big smoke.
Into the night we ran. What a northerly, plus 60km gusts coming straight from Mount Blowhard! The Biafran BENT was buffeted badly but the broader built amongst us were better based.  HYMEN risked perforation, running Sharps into the moist wetlands. Rimming the perimeter, we found ourselves in a previous playground paddock of SOS where he admitted getting up to no good as a youth. Perhaps performing penetrations of the odd membrane himself?  After the rotunda reminiscence we ran to LOIS LANE'S old patch of Miners Rest West, congregating with walker’s at the Drink Stop under an almost full moon. PHUCKWIT PHIL reckoned the Full Moon is his birth sign so he must nearly be another year older.
Back at the Tav, we gathered in the Cheech and Chong box and happily we welcomed new runner BEX.  The concepts of Mount and Blowhard returned. HYMEN accompanied as body guard. (A tidy body that had a tat or two!)  Welcome Backs GILF down from Varga Varga!  Significant runs were lots of sharp ones, 111 for HYMEN; Cumulative 1000 LOISOS (275 +625); Little Shotgun, 410 For MRS DICKHEAD.
Screwing the run culminated in Hymen’s Hymn, a version of Sunday School Song  “Jesus Loves Me”, HEAVILLY conscrewed to Hash Tarts love me this I know, as was for SS so long ago, making Hash Tarts go weak in the knee. Pleading, "Hymie won’t you Cum in Me." Yes, Hash Tarts Love Me.
SILIC stepped up with props to protect his battered buddy REAR ENTRY. He got him to Slip on a shirt, Slop on sunscreen and SLAP on a hat, no less than a full face motorcycle helmet! GILF representing the girls was to wear SILICS patented SLAP preventer boxing gloves (the very same ones SIL’s mum SLAPPED on him to stop the monkey being spanked). Now used to rub-a-nut?  He missed his Punch-line but everyone laughed anyway because NUMMY was holding the door shut to keep the smoke in to share a Little EVIL.
I think everyone had a drink in an extended session of discounted down downs and having delayed his Hash Run for some time, ROWDY reckons the reputation of HYMEN is back intact with some surgical help. (See fannyscating google Images for HYMENoplasty) We adjourned to the pre-ordered, lovingly prepared plates.
Next Week’s Run: Black Tie/Mystery Bus Thingy and Function Theme; Humour and Harmony with Meal, Wine and Song with Dance. 6pm from City Oval, Home Early

Monday, September 1, 2014

Run 1678, Venue: Red Peppa, Hare: Mountie


Christmas in September, Garden Gnome Gnight, Exquisite Cuisine with matching hand-picked wines laid on by Hash, free down-down beers donated by the establishment, original and new carols, the weather cleared for the well set run; What could possibly upset the mellow Hash bliss?

THE SLAP ! become the talking point of the night. Who saw what?? Who heard what?? Who did what, and when, and why??

Mountie was freed of her many worries concerning the weather, the incessant springtime Ballarat drizzle, whether or not the trail would be washed out when time to run actually hit. A quorum attended (she promised the owner and chef 25 plates), with more at the drink stop. Eight hardy souls actually followed the running trail, which meandered through alleyways and carparks, along the shiggy trails of the Yarrowee, up towards the Sovereign Hill and into the fabulous east before doubling back along both sides of Steinfeld and through car parks up to the drink stop.... where else but at Dan Murphy's. The ever resourceful Pus Bucket was just removing the cold drinks from the checkout counter when the majority of the athletes turned up. Some were so desperate for a drink that they followed him into the coolroom, but none offered to help him pay....

And no, Pus Bucket did not slap.

Most of the 8 runners managed to short cut the run, Chriss Cross and Nummy Nummy Num Num, in particular missed the fabulous east; The Bill managed to shorten the run along the Yarrowee; Rowdy and Dumb and Dumber tried a long cut for good measure, all successful in their attempts to piss off the run setter.....

And no, Mountie did not slap.

The down-downs worked well without ever reaching the heights. The Bill is now very comfortable in his role as Rose Gold Grandmaster, and managed to delegate Rowdy to screw, Dumb to be Sergeant, and Plucka to be the fall Guy....

But no, Plucka Duck did not slap.

Half a bar and Bar Liquor were farken welcomed back. Donuts was welcomed back and given a drink for growing a beard for the theme night. Flo Jo was charged in absentia for apologising for an October run because she would be overseas in February. Pus Bucket tried to explain science to Rear Entry, unsuccessfully. Normal was charged for being a c-unt; he drank on his own; nothing changes..

But no, Normal did not slap.

Heavy sent in his screw song, to the tune of 'Fly like an Eagle' by the Steve Miller Band. Some knew the song, unfortunately not the ones who were charged to sing it. Anyway, "Mountie squarks like a seagull" was the theme, and appropriate too because Snag has may duties, and the nature chorus from the real gulls on top of rebel sports added to the harmony.

Christmas carols followed in some sort of order, " 'Kwak' the Herald Angels sing, Plucka Duck has turned to sin. ", was rude and appropriate. 'We wish you a Fluid Movement' may need a little work...

But no, Plucka Duck did not slap.

The meal was exquisite, even SOS got seconds - seagull scraps but no complaint. All enjoyed the selections of wine, though half a bar had to pay for his excess.Gnome beards and hats were supplied for those slack enough to not dress up, although Glider in an Essendon jumper had many puzzled. Hymen, as always, was perfect, looking like a cherubic devil, but isn't that what a hymen represents? Heaven and hell in one flimsy membrane....

And no, Hymen does not slap.

A tender turkey breast was dished up. Not a turkey slap....

But a turkey was slapped, not once but twice. The second time harder than the first (which rules out most hash men).

Next week's run delivers the promised hymen. Deliverance.