TartanTart's Scribe

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=


Some 20 or so pax and 2 pets turned up at the run site. And they were glowing with enthusiasm, the pets, that is. The GM, Small Ball Cock, was missing and replaced by Karsanogenic, who btw., made for a good stand in GM, despite downplaying it.

The Hares uttered their notes to the run, but I am sure, only the dogs understood it completely - and off we went. Along the mangrove, across the main road, up the canal we met one of the hares, acting as a signpost and making sure we understood the signage. 

Huffing n puffing, Prick v Dyck led the runners pack through the Kampong into the greenery on a single tarmac track towards home. Reaching the runsite, after apparently 5.5km, we surely appreciated a cold beer. In addition, the hares had prepared a magic potion to supress any criticism towards shortcomings of the run. And it worked - it was a great run indeed!

Finding volunteers for the bloody scribe (who the f@#$ reads this anyways) and the executioner (Sauerkraut) was a pain in the neck, both came forward very sluggishly. With the circle structure in place, the GM finally disclosed Prick v. Dyck as the Secret Snitch Bitch. 

Only one, but one substantial charge, was mumbled towards Black Label, Sauerkraut, Sore Bum and Muc Arse. It was for "widely" (or was it wildly?) spreading their legs. What on earth is wrong with that? Obviously dazzled by this very observation P v. D could not think of any other charge. The brains blood supply had flown somewhere else..........

No visitors, no virgins were registered but 6 returners were honoured to find their way back to the Hash. Probably nothing better to do, hey!?

Hand Job, who eagerly came forward to be Beermeister, but claimed he has no clue what to do and what it involves. What a true Hasher! 

He even acted as executioners’ substitute once. And as Hand Job was doing it, the time was obviously too short for him to come, and splash the liquid onto the charged. He held it back - what a gentleman!

Mafioso Mongrel and Cod Piss became Hash Heroes as they managed the full walk in a stride. Although, it needs mention, that Cod Piss, who came in first, had the great advantage of being walked pulled and dragged by the dog – The Dog’s Bollocks - who was one of the few understanding the instructions.

Hash shit was accepted by MucArse on behalf of Hash Cash, who is apparently completely oblivious what "Cash -> back" means. Finally she received the Shit for something which escaped me, but it must have been of tremendous importance - for sure!

The Hash Hymn concluded the circle and The Dog’s Bollocks eagerly animated the pack to join in before leaving for makanan.

Scarborough was the entrusted watering hole and as usual the fish n chips were more than plentiful. Probably that is, due to the spreading disease: vegetarianism! A lot of poor fish sacrificed their lives for nothing, and were left behind. RIP! 

Another great Hash came to an end, thank you Hares - well done!


On On


Johnny Walker

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