Run: 1919

Date:11/08/2014

Location: Nerang

Hare: Rectum

Runners: 36

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‘ARSEHOLE’ to his mates

Was down at my local last week wetting the whistle with the favourite brew…. Got talking to a bunch of likely lads from Doncaster in Yorkshire England. Over the course of a few ales most subjects got an airing until the topic turned to hashing. Percy let the cat out: -“Me mate Arsehole, he does fookin’ hashing like, y’ know. He fookin’ luvs it, reckons it’s the best fookin’ crack, runnin’ around the place and shit. His name’s fookin’ Steve Bottomley so we call him fookin’ Arsehole” he added cracking himself up.

-“I bloody know him” I told my new chum, “but on our Hash we call him Rectum.”

-“Well I fookin’ never………..who’da thought like……….the world’s a fookin’ small place I’ll tell yuh.” He went on: -“Arsehole’s a great lad, luvs avin’ a laugh like but fookin’ real intelligent like, y’ know. With a bit of luck he coulda been a fookin’ doctor y’ know.”

-“Really” I said intrigued, “That’s one facet of his personna we’ve not experienced on the Hash. What happened with the medical studies?”

-“He fooked up like, his final entrance exam. He still kicks himself over it like, y’ know. He failed this last question:

‘Rearrange the letters P-N-S-I-E in order to make the body part which functions best when it’s erect.’

“All the fookin’ students who answered ‘spine’ got though and were enrolled on the spot but Arsehole and a coupla others were rounded up and shipped off to fookin’ Australia like, y’ know.

It’s fair to say that England’s loss was the Gourmet Hash’s great gain. Rectum is a terrific bloke and an absolute ornament to the Hash cause. So much so in fact that tonight’s Hash had been anticipated for months.

The run was laid in the new suburbs west of Highland Park. The pack set off at a thundering rate of knots on the twisting and turning bitumen until the first check, 3kms in. Rectum would later reveal that his cunning ‘2 check’ strategy was all about “keeping the run as short as possible.” There was another 3.5 kms of similar terrain until the pack finally hit bush……..and a bloody big mountain to boot. Up and along a fire trail for a couple of kms until we came to the steepest part of the climb, in the most impenetrable bush. Thankfully, the ever considerate Hare had the great foresight to lay the trail in parallel with a rusty, barbed wire fence which was most handy in hauling the buggered pack towards the top. The decent was just as treacherous as hashers slipped and slided down the slope, gashing limbs along the way. With immense relief the torture test was over and there remained a gentle 8.7 kms doddle back to the eski.

The normally well mannered Sir Black Stump didn’t hold back when requested to crit the run. Still panting, and sporting numourous gashes on his arms, he laid in: “This is the f#$king most stupid fucking run I f*&king ever run. What a f#@king f@$k-up!”

Two Dogs was more restrained: “My Hawaii Triathlon days are well past me, but another couple of runs like this and I might reconsider me options.”

Ferret was asked to comment on the Walk but he couldn’t remember much of it due to the fact that he’d been deep in dialogue with Sir Rabbit. For his part, Sir Rabbit said he couldn’t remember much of it either as he’d been concentrating on all the crap Ferret was telling him.

Onto the Nosh. Being a dedicated disciple of GM Kitchen Bitch’s ‘Gourmet’ agenda, and with Palestine the flavour of the moment, Rectum served up a feed of a distinctive Arab nature. On the menu were Deep Fried Budgerigars and yoghurt for Entree, sloppy Chicken stew with rice for Mains while Dessert consisted of a dry Cloves and Dates cake without any dates in it.

Cumsmoke called a very ordinary feed and he made the valid point that half the Chicken mush remained which was indicative of its quality and taste.
Two Dogs was more generous: “This reminded me of the food we use to eat at the Numimbah Resort” where the two first met and Rectum was doing his apprenticeship.
Lurch admitted that he’d tucked into a 6 pack of 4&20 pies in the afternoon and he was “bloody glad I did.”

The Grand Master had barely begun his final summation that the sound of strides hitting the floor was heard and Rectum duly plonked his namesake on the ice.

GM KB then called his favourite hashman for his Weekly down. Having just pointed the ‘mongrel’ at a nearby bush, Weekly returned to the Circle with a large map of Africa on the bottom of his oversized t-shirt. For gloating about his massive long dick, Weekly was given a Down.
Flasher was given a Down for the heinous crime of “fucking his old dear on a monday night.” However, upon bleating something about his daughter, a shocked GM promptly iced him.
New ‘Boot’ Mat, a young lad out of the Nasty stable, was invited for his first Down. Welcome Mat! (It’s got a ring to it hasn’t it?)

Normally, at this juncture in the proceedings, the baton is usually tossed to the eager RA for his dishing out of Hash penance. However, on this occasion, he would be ignored and left to impersonate a wallflower while the GM took it upon hisself to complete the Circle work.
(Observers close to the Heirarchy Court have revealed that a rift has developed between the GM and the RA over the RA’s below par performance the previous week when he iced Acting On Sec BallPoint for “inacurate reporting.” The GM was overheard reading the Riot Act: “When I want ‘acurate reporting’ I read the f#$king Courrier Mail; I don’t look for it in the Hash Trash. Why the f&%k do you think it’s called the Trash, you bloody imbecile?”) or words to that effect.

Jigsaw entered the Circle looking to hand over the Useless sweater to another deserving conveyance. His gaze fell upon the man with the ‘pick-me-when-you-can’t-be-arsed-thinking-of-anyone-else’ sign on his forehead: Flasher.

Ferret was then called in to part with the Prick-of-the-Week. He looked like a man on a mission.

-“You would know fellas that I love a conspiracy theory as much as any other fertile mind. UFOs, the Holocaust, 9/11, Climate Change, the death of Princess Diana……..you name it and I fucking support it. But this crap about fucking Hamas terror tunnels into fucking Israel is the biggest bunch of bullshit I have ever heard in my life. So Flasher, for starting this ridiculous rumour, you’re the Prick of the Week.”

The final act of the night was a baptism. The Grand Master was at his best and called Jimmy front and on one knee. It so happens that Jimmy has a particular noctural fetish which involves ropes, leather and heavy chains. Thankfully, his bird is of a feather and together they are known to make the most wonderful whoopee with, apparently, chandelier hi-jinxs their absolute favourite. GM was left with little choice but to name the tie-me-down fiend……. Bondage.

Just as Josephine was lubricating the tonsils, Rectum announced, to a cacophony of raucous “you fucking beauty”, that he would soon be returning to the Old Dart.
-“The UK Education Department have been in touch and I’ve been accepted to the Doncaster School of Medicine.” He went on:”Most of you would be aware that I have a passion for gynecology……..it’s me first luv like, y’know. I just want to thank the Prime Minister David Cameron for this great fookin’ opportunity. And you know how much I luv fookin opportunities like.” And with great gusto the Hash sent him on way with ‘F&$k off you ?? f#@k off!”

Josephine closed the Circle soon after.

On2,
BP (Acting On Sec)