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TartanTart Moderator


GM – Johnny Walker

Hare – Small Ball Cock assisted by Hand Job.

Everyone arrived to an awning billowing in the breeze and a few camping chairs scattered under the trees. Alas the awning that took close on an hour to erect offered little if no shade and was not in the right area as the circle was formed on the opposite side of the road.  Hand Job decided it would be the last time he spent all his energy on putting up useless awnings unless he upgraded to a pop up one.  A group photo was taken by Bugger Mee with all the complying Hashers with their green outfits placed in the front. The shoes were inspected and no one was guilty of having new shoes but it was noted that someone’s still looked liked they had a very good warranty.

Small Ball Cock gave a very confusing description of the Hash route, which he tried to justify by saying he was trying to stick to the Irish theme.  After asking for clarity everyone just ended up more confused and decided to just set off and hope for the best. Well, after no more than 200m everyone had gone off in the wrong direction and Small Ball Cock was frantically calling everyone back. The walkers returned but unfortunately after bellowing after the runners (causing all the locals to rush out to see what all the commotion was about) they were long gone off along the wrong track. This ended up with them doing an extra loop before eventually joining the correct path. The Hare blamed the locals for trashing his arrow or the chickens must have eaten it.  The route was pleasant and thankfully a bit shorter than usual as the heat was sweltering up from the ground. The markings improved so much so that after the night’s rain and the next day’s sun I’m sure there are a few arrowed shaped loaves of bread to be found on the Island.

The circle was formed on top of a little hill so everyone could gaze at the sunset instead of being focused on the GM hoping not to get called for any future Hash duties. Tartan Tart was quick to offer to take the job of Executioner so that she could cool off by dousing herself with a big jug of ice water. A Virgin Hasher, Tarryn, born in South Africa and now a new Aussie, was welcomed to our Hash. The Returners were all very confused as to where they had been and stood mumbling and scratching their heads in true Irish Form before getting doused by the Executioner.

The green clothing which was a requirement for the Irish Hash was inspected and a few explanations were needed from some of the more imaginative Hashers.  Hand Job was awarded the title of the sexiest Hasher as he stood half naked with a green O’Heineken Box on his head as his green clothing contribution.  Our GM looked quite cute himself with a necklace of green balls as well as Sodomiser with his little green panties. MucArse had a lot of explaining to do regarding her green waders worn with Flip-flops. The GM was quite disappointed that he couldn’t find anyone with a green bra to inspect so turned his attention to naming and Christening two new Hashers; Geologist Piet and his wife Tweet. After some good dirty nominations, once again with Chilly Willy topping the list with his vulgar suggestions, #Tweety Twat and Rock Cock were the decided new names.

As it was now dark there was only time for one or two Irish jokes so those who had forgotten to bring one got off without any water dousing from the very enthusiastic Executioner. King Penguin closed the evening with a jolly Irish song and everyone headed off to Coco’s for some Irish stew or Fish. 


TartanTart Moderator

Hash Run 643, the Christmas Special, congregated at Kampung Kubang Badak at a pleasant spot near the river. However the unsettling thing was a sign saying “Danger Crocodiles”, “No Camping” and “No Swimming”. The reptiles must have escaped from the nearby crocodile farm, and the ones which escape are always the wily ones. There’s nothing like the threat of being grabbed by the ankle and dragged into the river to keep Hashers on their toes.

The course wound six km or so around rubber plantations, along the main road a bit, through some nice shady patches and through the kampung, with a presence of magnificent mountains on both sides. Quite a bit of excrement on the ground. Bovine or croc? Didn’t wait to find out. Another motivation to stay on track was the collection of coloured stars, yellow for designated walkers and orange for runners.

Back at home base there was a welcoming Christmas Pimms. Only, where were Cod Piss and Mafioso Mongrel? Had they been too slow for a lurking crocodile? That would surely be a Hash historic first. But no, they had stumbled off course, followed the main road and were then rightfully accused of the heinous crime of taking a short cut.

More denouncement took place when Black Label was accused of using the hooter in a non-approved manner, namely between the bum cheeks.

Johnny Walker, probably a prison camp Kommandant in a previous life, kept everyone in line in a most efficient manner. One virgin was sacrificed, and one visitor ritually humiliated. Arse was rewarded for collecting the most stars, though there was an attempt by Small Ball Cock to substitute yellow vaguely star-shaped flowery objects.

It turns out that it was the Winter Solstice, not that you’d notice it much in the tropics, and there was a full(ish) moon. This called for baying at the moon, incorporated into a Christmas Carol. Other carols were chanted using improvised Hash lyrics.

The special Christmas meal was hosted at The Brasserie in The Laguna. An excellent couscous; who could have predicted that? Presents were also randomly exchanged. I’m sure I did better out of the deal. Isn’t that the aim?

Thanks to Tartan Tart and Sauerkraut for designing a memorable 643.

Hand Job

Unwilling Scribe=