Run 2024:
In many ways Hash has become a lot like Led Zeppelin. It has had its share of Good Times and Bad Times, and any attempt at a belated reunion would just be a tragic affair (looking at you Live Aid). But the most apt comparison is its lineage. Following the death of John Bonham, his son Jason rose to occasion and drummed with the group. Whilst he may not be dead, our Jason is incapable of drinking beer, so we’ll go with his son for tonight.
The run was set to begin from 14 Platypus Drive at 6:30 sharp. The start became a tad dull as it set out at a languorous 6:31. A fabulous run throughout the dreary woods of Mount Clear, during which Criss Cross attempted to one up Big Dog by tripping up Just Cum, in scenes reminiscent of Mrs D’s tumble in the prior week. The run took the pack through a combination of bush and suburbia, adorned by many a Buxton billboard, yet no mention of our favourite knavish constituent, Fascinator.
Upon returning to the Cross/Dicks’ residences, the fugly couple of Chug Ly were welcomed back. Whilst concerns were raised about applauding the couple for every run they’ve attended; we can all be grateful that SS is not afforded the same honour, 1700 applauses is excessive.
As is customary, the arithmetic genius Spencer Hocking told us of our sniffy cunt runs. In between his indulgence of “little boys”, Spence first noted that Shafted had short sold himself, remaining on 666 for far too long. This conversation naturally morphed into discussions of the number of the beast, with Spence throwing in a discussion for our astray hasher, Tommy Half a Bar. “The digit sum of 666 is 18, half of 18 is 9, 9 squared is 81”. Amongst these sniffy cunt runs was a mention to Penny Fartyhing’s (we’ll touch on that) 686, as well as Precious’ 161 (approximately 52% of the page count of J. R. R. Tolkien’s ‘The Hobbit’). It was also bought to our attention that being the 8th of the 3 of 21, if one were to subtract 4 (or the sum of Chugly*’s collective runs) from 8, you would be left 4/3/21.
Upon screwing the one run, Bent Nose instructed this scribe to simply transcribe “Fascinator fucked up”. We may never know the true meaning of said words. The run was considered a resounding success for its lack of Bar Flies, with even Puss Bucket partaking in the run, thus interrupting Hashes own Algonquin Round Table. The run was described with the ever-useful metric of going “up and down hill”. The trail was also lauded for leading its runners down a creek side path that Criss Cross has never once used. Said path was deemed so elusive that it may be hitherto undiscovered. Criss Cross was further applauded for crossing trail correctly, with this fact being directed at no one in particular. It was deemed a “very fine run” and was given a “1 as opposed to 0” (Nose, B. 2021) on the binary system. Criss Cross and Two Dicks were taken away (shitty trail). During the drinking it was also noted that Two Dicks cums to early with her down downs.
Enter the substitute Sargent, Puss Bucket. The first charge of the evening went to Penny Fartyhing and Puss Bucket’s beau, Spartacus (“he’s not here”, Mountie’ll do) for the egregious, yet predictable, misspelling of Penny Fartyhing. The charges then entered an elongated, yet interesting parable of the origins of Labour Day and its division of the day into three 8 hour thirds. Snag noted a similar division in Hash, the Runners, the Walkers and the Bar Flies, before noting that no one is left behind in the Bar Flies. SS was subsequently charged for letting such an esteemed Bar Fly as Puss Bucket fall behind on the walk (what a wank).
Charges before the run began with Just Cum being called forward. With all the discussion of misspelling Penny Fartyhing, questions were raised as to how someone could fuck up so badly and spell “Just Cum” as “Kathmandu” on her jacket (build a bonfire). Puss Bucket then charged his mistress (no one tell Spartacus) Mountie. Being left alone for the weekend, Puss Bucket feared technological advancements, for the moment they invent a vibrator that can take out the trash, Mountie will no longer have a need for him (she’s a harriet). Shafted was then called forward. He was thanked for the dinner that would be served tonight, being salads, most of it was clearly fertilized with horseshit (there was a song here, feel free to imagine it ‘cause I don’t remember it).
Charges from the run saw Just Cum charged again for her emulous fall in the vein of Mrs D, circa last week. Plucka was likewise charged for a riveting anecdote about the discovery of rabbits on the run, which raised questions as to their domestication or whether they were simply wild. Criss Cross was also bought forward for causing the group to trespass on Depart of Education property, despite our status as tax paying citizens. He was further lampooned for his “Look back for cars” sign in his garage, with questions raised as to whether he needed more signs e.g “don’t look at your watch while holding a beer…. ESPECIALLY IF YOU AREN’T WEARING A WATCH” (hold it in your hand).
Just Cum was bought forward again, at this point she had drunk the equivalent of one cup of beer. Numb regaled the circle with the tale of her spectacular fall and how, through the commotion, she feared that Dumb would be left a poor widow (the Hash biologists promptly described how such a situation would work) and Just Cum was taken away (B.I.M.B.O). In light of International Woman’s Day, Bent was charged for the lesser-known International Nit-picker’s Day, with Precious being charged as his protégé in nit-picking, as well as for wearing his 4 year old year 12 jumper (publicly pissed on).
Precious was subsequently charged again by some of the female Hashers for his description of the “married life” after only a week, yet, perplexingly, very few male Hashers sympathised with the female point of view (get back in the kitchen). At this point, Shafted presented a pair of handcrafted ornaments to the Cross/Dicks’ household. To the naked eye, they may have appeared as random metal crap off the ground, but they were described by Shafted as being hand crafted by a high range artist and were presented with a complimentary hay bale. This was followed by a bewildered chant of “what the actual fuck”. Is anyone even still reading this? One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Take the red fish and you will awaken from the Matrix.
Donuts, in the vein of our favourite Buxton constituent, may have “fucked up”. Plucka was presented her commemorative 300th run award on her 301st run (get a life). A damper then fell across Hash, as Swing Low was sang in commemoration of Nut Bush Clitty Licker’s (which reached number 14 on the Go-Set National Top 40 in 1974) late father, followed by a moment of silence.
Next weeks run was tentatively set at Pebble’s Park (real name my vary), Miners Rest. Weather permitting, said location is subject to change. Hopefully, this blog has reached a word count sufficient to stimulate the intellect of Bent Nose. I even included the Algonquin Round Table for you, hope you’re happy.
*Chugly (noun): an ugly individual that is quite versed in the art of chugging
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