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TartanTart Moderator

Hare – King Penguin assisted by Hash Dog The Dog's Bollocks.

After boasting how lucky we have always been with the dry weather on the Hashes we obviously tempted fate. We arrived at the venue in Tanjung Rhu and gathered in a small group standing in the drizzling rain.  Where was Hand Job with his awning? Typical when we actually need an awning he is not around to provide it. Those of us who stood under our umbrellas were ridiculed for being ‘’poofters”.  Seeing there was to be no shoe inspection Small Ball Cock was brave enough to arrive in his new luminous platform sole trainers.  A group photo was taken by Bugger Mee before we all set off hoping not to come back drenched to the core. 

The Dog's Bollocks led the way and immediately started chasing the cows just to get them irritated enough that we all had to gingerly walk past and hope they wouldn’t chase us in return for TDB’s unruly behaviour. 

As we entered the paddy fields the runners left on their own route and the walkers followed what we could see of the flooded path. Jumping between puddles and avoiding stepping on the masses of frogs that were scampering out of our way, was the procedure for most of the route until we came to the mangroves. Then the heavens opened and the umbrella holders had a smug grin as they looked at the sodden bunch desperately trying to reach home.

The last of the route was along the beach and at least the saturated sand was nice and hard to walk on.  Being a fair way ahead of the walking group I approached a gushing river. Remembering that I thought I heard the Hare stating that it was low tide so the river would be in our favour I entered the rapids cursing that no allowance had been taken in for the pouring rain and the force of the flow. Dreading that I would not make it through to the other side I finally reached dry ground only to hear Hashers calling to me come back. What??? The home site was up the river on the side I had just come from. Now I had to risk my life and cross the raging torrent of water again. Luckily I made it back with Bugger Me helping me to get up the bank.

A drenched lot sodden from head to toe had all made it home. Well all of us except Small Ball Cock who managed to keep his feet dry in his platform trainers. Most Hashers had wisely brought a change of clothing but poor French Tart had to endure dinner in her dripping attire.

 The meal was right next door at The Nest and we all enjoyed a feast of salad, toast with salsa, soup and pasta. 

On On

BC


TartanTart Moderator

Run 647.


Firstly, all Hashers would like to send condolences to Bugger Me, we were thinking of you and missed you both.


So == We had a quickly organised / cobbled together Mash Hash. Well done all involved!


Everyone did very well to find the meeting point at Karsanogenic’s hillside hide away, congratulations. 

Our six visitors were the first to arrive, Thomas and Teddy (sounds like a  50’s comedy duo) and Francoise (Thomas’s Mum),  from France, and Nein Knickers and Oliver Clothes Off, from Germany. 

Rotating GM was Karsanogenic, in a spin as usual, forgetting the New Shoe check for the second consecutive time. Stand in Hares / Leaders were King Penguin, nobly stepping up as usual, to lead the charge for the runners, and Tartan Tart volunteered a rest from running, to guide the walkers, scout-like, through the Jungle. 

Hurrah---- The Walkers ambled home first! (After early challenging inclines). Well done Hares. The much younger French chaps led the way in for the runners.

(Obviously after good Pace Making in the Paddies from KP and PvD, not to mention Coming from Behind - who did.)


Golden Shower did a sterling job as Executioner, liberally dousing himself, and all those summoned into the circle. The best of all dousings was on Floppy Rod who returned to us after a long absence, but still unable to  cut a long story short!!!! 


Thomas was christened, in the presence of his mother – Francoise knows a little more of her son than she perhaps needed to! He was almost called ‘Menage a Trois’ but no sufficiently detailed description was provided. Thomas was saved by un petit oiseau that shat on his shoulder during the proceedings --- and thus—He became known as “Little Shit”.


Big Alf  from Norway was next up for naming and there was no shortage of possibilities, but after revelation that he spent a lifetime in the Oil and Gas business in a “hands on” capacity, he was duly named “Oily Dick”. No satisfactory explanation of the “Dick” bit was given, but nevertheless it received rapturous endorsement.


Music Meister, bravely supported by Teddy (who shall be named at his next visit), sang, with no due respect, the Marseillaise, toilet paper version, followed by Hob Nob and KP’s rendition of our very own Hash Hymn.


And off we jolly well went, to Thien Seng, who did us proud if a little  ‘tardy’ due to their short notice explosion in  customer numbers!!


On On


MucArse (Ably assisted by Karsanogenic!!)