Run No: 424 - 21 Jul 07 - A to B: Coloane Hill Road to Norman's

Coloane Hill Road to Norman's

Hares: Betty and Betty’s Boobs

Having had to wait until Saturday morning to find out where the hash was, and then having to get up the hill to the start, some of us expected a small turnout. Like a persistent rash though, there was the usual bunch of miscreants, plus 2 spanking-new virgins, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready for a good romp in the bushes. It seems that nothing will stop some mugs from hashing.

Hard on the heels of last week’s adventure we were treated to another devilish Russian plot. Not satisfied with simply confusing us, the hares decided that this week some of us ought to get completely lost. Mind you, I have heard other people say that about the Hash.

Starting halfway up the hill one would have been forgiven for expecting the run to be on the hill. However, that was all part of the plot. The runners shot straight off the hill to Coloane Village, never to set foot on it again, whilst the walkers did head up the hill, and indeed spent quite some time up there, but thankfully managed to get down again before the rescue mission got that far.

Where was I? Oh yes, this week Cum Shot had to compete for FRB status, with Cunter Ass back in contention, and Glenfiddich putting in his semi-annual appearance, with words to the effect of ‘You don’t mind if I FRB, do you?’ The three of them looked lovely in their matching yellow T-shirts as they dwindled into the distance, just like daffodils bobbing about in the wind.

Through Coloane Village we sped (ok, most of us walked, but at a blistering pace), and out the other end up Dead Men’s Hill to Little Beirut, holding our breath to see whether Cum Shot would manage to get in front for long enough to steer the others completely off the track. Thank God he did in the end, because I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. He led them all the way down to Cheok Van beach whilst the rest of us sauntered along on the road above, wondering what on earth all that ON-ON-ing was about down below.

With Cum Shot’s assistance the laggards managed to get ahead for a while, but were sadly overtaken on the rocks before Hac Sa. However, despite the competition among the daffodils being so keen that none of them could find the time to break any checks for us, we still managed to sneak in just behind them.

So we sat around outside Norman’s waiting for the walkers...and waited...and waited, until finally a decision was made to go and search for them. I think the actual words were, “Bollocks to them, let’s go and get the cars from A whilst they find their own way in.” They did turn up though, having been sent on a wilderness trek by Betty’s Boobs, our hardy Siberian huntress. Having found their way down from the peak, and indeed found some flour on the road, they thankfully followed the new trail until they realised they were heading back to A...

Anyway, all’s well that ends well, but that doesn’t usually happen on the Hash, and it didn’t this time either. The circle got under way with the usual recriminations for lack of flour, lack of shoes, lack of respect and all the other garbage that makes up a pleasant evening’s intercourse, but then it turned decidedly chilly, with a hint of racism creeping in. The Russians were called out for plotting against the rest of the Hash, the British were called out for plotting against the Russians, the Americans were called out for not being in an embarrassing political situation for a change, and Noel, the sole Filipino, who had somehow found his way off the runners and onto the walkers, decided he’d seen enough of advanced civilisation and that it was time to go back to sea.

And so it was. Bai bai till next time Noel, welcome Dave and bai bai next week to Cum Shot. Don’t stay away too long, we need you to help keep the pack together.

Bollocks to it, I’m off to the pub.

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