Version One
I am too shagged... blah blah blah... sfdgsgfgfd.... and all anticipated the excitement of Orful Fuk’s kitchen!
So when the actual Scribe forgets to come to hash it is a JM’s responsibility to appoint a suitable candidate for the job. So when this appointment fails to occur due to an advanced state of inebriation one must force ones fingers deep into ones gullet in an attempt to regurgitate some nonsensical mish-mash of what did and didn’t occur.
Its great having runs far out in the country, but the navigation proved difficult for the FrigidDigit/Bagshag combo who got lost and ran out of fuel, before having to take a ride back to Clarkville in a horse float that was carrying a dead mare back into town for dismemberment. They did make it to the run though which was a little late to get started due to a general lack of enthusiasm for trail and hashers just shagging about drinking piss. Although Dagy wasn’t there in body, he was in spirit because he had provided 2 handfuls of wood-shavings which OrfulFuk used to set the entire trail, including a wankers/real hashers split! So with weapons in hand and correct shoes on feet we headed off along ditches, across paddocks, through, over or around fences until coming upon a farmhouse where we interrupted a farmers daughter sunbathing topless in the backyard! Err, sorry about that! WoWo didn’t notice though as he had found and engine-less Series 1 Landrover, which he was planning to repower with a Briggs & Stratton lying nearby. And this was pretty much where the 2 handfuls of wood-shavings trail came to an end. With wankers heading west and real hashers heading east and a seething white-water to the south trail had vanished? Or, was never laid? At this point Pulled Out disappeared as well, although JustNoze wasn’t worried because he had the car keys. As we stumbled about aimlessly, thoughts started turning to survival rather than finding trail. There’s something about drinking your own urine which makes you get up and think; I can do this! So with renewed gusto the hash tribe reunited atop the stopbank and with Gloworm striding ahead the 1st P.S was found. Abuse and profanity was hurled at OrfulFuk for his invisible trail but this soon melted away with the warmth and comfort of beer on the tonsils. A 2nd P.S was held on a roadside shortcut back to the Grand Palace, where Pulled Out was waiting for us explaining that she had found a stray cat on trail and had gone to find the owner. Which she did successfully, bless her.
The Fines circle was an extensive affair, carried out by Pulled Out with a cameo from Workashirka as guest fines-master. OrfulFuk was fined for shitty trail. We had overseas visitors from Qatar Hash; Takin the Piss (thanks for the hash shirt!) and Viagra. Oddjob from Dorkland. Klingon turned 21. Octopussy has moved to CHCH JUST so she could hash with GCH3. Navigator and OneLoos displayed excessive concern that we didn’t have a fines master and 007 got dobbed in for responding to the cry of; “Dad!”
Wank Plank had to self award the condom as he never wore it on the run. Dumb-ass!
For dinner we enjoyed a concoction of jungle curries and rice which shut everybody up for 5 minutes before grabbing a roadie and heading to the WedgE-mobile.
OnOn
Worm
P.S: Get ur Xmas Doo Tickets from RLD. Now! Go on u slack pricks!
Version Two
Hey folks
Sorry this is late - I forgot to appoint anyone to do it!
Note about tonight's run at 26 Bideford Place: Please rememer to come up
Gayhurst Road going north and at the McBratneys Rd roundabout, ignore the
'road closed' sign and drive in anyway.
Garbage for 22 Nov:
A motley crew assembled at Orful Fuk's flat way out in Clarkville, refusing
to be overly impressed by his upmarket snacks (salami, crackers, popadoms,
etc...mmm) and his flashy dribble-dropper. Virgins are always out to create
a good first impression!
The run headed off at a tardy 7pm or therabouts, and was off to a good
start, with plenty of shiggy and off-roading - evidently Orful had actually
listened to Navi's religious advice (does anyone else...?). There was a
runners/walkers split, the walkers appropriately being taken through fields
full of cow dung - serves the lazy shits right!
The runners followed clearly laid trail up stop banks, down shingle tracks,
through the woods to...nothing!
Increasingly frantic searching, wading through swamp, climbing banks and
zigzagging across roads failed to locate the mysterious trail.
And then it happened...The night began to turn ominously dark....One by one,
the runners disappeared...just as if the woods were inhabited by a
malevolent force. Like a scene from the Blair Witch Project. Until, at last,
only a plaintiff "are you? Are you?" could be heard, slowly fading away in
the distance until cold silence reigned...
That's the end of my garbage on the trail, as I never did find the rest of
it. I did have a good time communing with the horses on the way back.
F8ines:
- Orful Fuk - shitty trail, lack of trail
- Pulled Out - failing to properly read the invisible trail and
magically
know her way to the piss stop (perhaps I should have sniffed it out)
- Visitors - there were two but I don't remember their names - one
from UK
and one from the US I think...?
- Wank Plank: nearly cauising a plane crash by flashing his tackle.
Apparently it is almost visible from space!
- Wank Plank - not bringing condom
- Bag Shag - ??? Something to do with a previous run?
- Several others, I forget
The night finished with an outstanding feast, including 3 kinds of marinated
roast pork, roast jacket spuds with tasty dips, several varieties of Asian
dishes for the veggies, plus a lot more - and even ice cream to finish
On on!
No comments:
Post a Comment