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TartanTart Moderator

Maid in China has passed away –

For Langkawi hash it’s a very sad day.

A true-blue hasher, and a real gent,

He certainly had a life well spent.

A natural wit, he would keep us amused

With funny stories and tales confused.

A chemist, an actor, a linguist was he – 

Of foreign tongues he had at least three!

In France and Indo and China he stayed,

And then in Langkawi his roots he laid.

He settled in to life here well

‘Cos Tiger beer tax free they sell !!

His zest for life the envy of many,

The love of his life – a girl named Jenny.

A doting dad and grandpa too,

But still he sported a quirky hairdo!

His determination kept him going

When after a stroke his mind was slowing,

And soon he was back upon the breakwater,

Running along without a totter.

But tragedy was to strike again –

On the way to his maid in China – Jen,

Another stroke it did attack – 

And from this one was no way back.

So here’s to Maid in China,

He’s true blue,

He’s a hasher through and through,

He has sadly passed away,

But from his place in heaven we will hear him say:

Drink it down, down, down, down,

Down, down, down, down,

Down, down, down, down –

On On M.I.C.

TartanTart Oct 12 · Comments: 2 · Tags: maid in china, poem, mic, martin
TartanTart Moderator

Flight 649 Flight report.

Flight Officers- Prick Van Dyke.

                        Coming From Behind.

Captain.          Golden Shower

Executioner-  not obvious on most flights; Teddy.

It was a day for flying, a fairly warm day, and began with a safety briefing by our new and novice captain (just to fill us all with confidence, and double the consumption of anchor).

Prick (for short) but actually was quite long, demonstrated the use of our safety equipment, as if we did not know, and said that due to the hot weather we may experience turbulence, so must wear our belts at all times during the flight. A totally unnecessary precaution.

Golden shower, our captain, then inspected our footwear, amongst other things, and declared us fit (unusual term for Hashers) for take off.

Whilst taxiing Prick described the route. He explained that the business class group, would fly in one direction, whilst the economy class and lazy group would – much to our relief- be flying, albeit, eating dust-  in the same direction.  The thought of the aircraft splitting after take off and going  two different ways was more than just a worry.

Then after much and mostly unnecessary conversation away we flew. Chilly Willy was still in the car changing his underwear. The Business class group, as usual made a quicker and more comfortable getaway and were well pampered by the fight crew.( say no more)

The vast majority of passengers, in cattle class, were left eating their dust.

Feeling fit, healthy, and fresh the business class group quickly landed, and were escorted to the lounge for free beer, whilst us walkers continued to drink water and search for any safety exits or long ropes.

Eventually, dusty and dry, we all made it to our destination, a sand pit in the middle of a desert, a bit like many destinations, and prepared for disembarkation.

The Captain, who was, like most of the group, a bit old. and forgetful of people’s names, required that  he  would blow his (smaller than most) whistle, they would then step forward, call out their names, and then answer  whatever ridiculous questions had come into his atrophied mind, but mostly it was of an intimate nature.

A flight black box was required, and Tartan Tart bravely volunteered yours truly for the job.

An executioner was also pressed into the role and another novice called Teddy, an Air France employee (take a chance with Air France)  valiantly stepped up for the role.

The returners, or frequent flyers, were then called in for a dousing, which was well administered too despite the need to explain the rules in some strange language which could best be described as a diseased larynx.

This was followed by a solemn renaming ceremony, and PMBC who being a lady refused to mention the full name because it was long and rude, was renamed with the full reverence we all expected, as Bearded Clit.  A more charming name.

Luckily for the visitors, they had all remained in the duty free lounge and were too alcoholically overcome to take part.

Another old Captain was then flown in and proudly showed us all his joystick, for which he made the excuse it was used for divining. Clearly by its state it had done a bit too much divining and luckily did not fall to pieces during the elaborate process. Eventually for his efforts he became flight latrine.

A very rare sighting amongst this rabble of passengers, a virgin (Yuin) was spotted, and despite having previously attending a bash, the overall opinion was bash it, flash it , or hash it, she was liable for a quick one, so  being a novice she got it.

We then all flew off to the departure lounge, a destination owned by a famous antipodean hostess who served us a delicious meal rounded off with some brownies.



17.03. 19