Date: 17th December 2018……………………..
Location: Surfers Paradise ………………………
‘Twas the run before Christmas and all through Budds Beach not a creature was stirring – they had enough brains to stay inside because it was pissing pick handles.
The gathering of our staunch hashmen had soon demolished as much of the pizza as they could get inside them and, at 5:15 on the dot, they were off in search of fun and adventure, well, beer actually.
Sir Botcho, the trailblazer, lead the ragged mob through the streets of Surfers, avoiding the rain and puddles, while finding some very convenient photo opportunities along the way. Santa’s photo booth in Cavil Mall was taken over by the GM, much to the chagrin of the waiting punters.
Amid cries of “Merry Christmas” and “Ho Ho Ho” our faithful band surged onward to the House of Brews for a selection of their finest ales to taste.
Carefree and Brengun, among others, had already started, as they were smart enough to head straight there to avoid getting drenched.
Almost the entire gathering agreed that beer number five was shit. There is something about a mango beer that seems contradictory to common sense. Mademoiselle Latrine busied himself handing out platters of beer making sure that none was wasted.
Swollen Colon and his crackers were missed but, as we were right beside the Police Station, his absence was probably a good thing.
Then it was across the street for the evening nosh at La Porchetta.
Vicky was looking most resplendent in almost nothing. As usual, she was never short of company with the GM following her around like a lapdog “Just to make sure she wasn’t accosted by the lecherous hash hounds”. Brewtus, Arsenic and Skyhook, with eyes the size of dinner plates, were the bees round the proverbial honeypot.
Bent Banana was seeking solace and asked her for a hug. In true BB fashion he ended up burying his beak in her cleavage. Needless to say Vicki was not impressed. Likewise, she went crinkly-faced when Aussie thought it might be good idea to draw circles around her nipples.
Fanny Charmer and Sir Prince Valiant traded barbs about Labor’s latest housing initiative. And the highlight of the evening for the Caustic Crusader was when Lyon dismissed Kohli in the cricket and we had them at 5/100.
The RA was slightly miffed when Phantom and Sir Prince snaffled the last two Veal Scallopini dishes, especially as he had been waiting since the dawn of creation for his meal to arrive.
By now, someone had stolen S Bends’ whistle but the ever-resourceful Booze Master came up with another one to continue annoying the Christmas revellers.
The night deteriorated from there and the last thing I remember was downing pints of Guinness in Waxy’s.
And so it was.
Circumference also has a few memories of another fun night of Hashing…