Trouble on the hare line, Chucky? Panicking, Mr Mainwaring? Worried the virgin hares were not going to turn up? That’s all right, old chap. You just bugger off to Chiang Rai and leave good old overworked Doctor Byte to sort it out. Oh, and you too, GM, Mr Poo, sir, and the rest of you absent Committee arseholes. Not to worry, eh? Dr Byte will do your jobs too.
Well you needn’t have concerned yourselves – not that I expect you did – the irrepressible Dr B had it all in hand (ooh, erh). Having disappeared up their own arseholes for a month or so, the Scandinavian Virgins – Scaly Gladiator and his dad (time for a Hash name?) – finally came good (ooh, erh), and called Dr B to arrange a scouting day, for he had also agreed to act as their “Hash Consultant”. How many flaming jobs do you want, DB?
Well, the story goes that the first thing the Virgins wanted was a beer. So, four large Leo’s later, off they went, Hash Consultant in tow. And presumably, a great many more bottles later and the run was finally set, emerging like a ghost ship from the thick bank of alcohol fog that had formed in the collective half-mind. In fact they must have been so pissed that at some point they forgot just how far they had wandered away from the A site, and when they finally returned to it the run was set at not much shorter than 10k. Jeeeeeesus! How many beers did that take?
Anyhow, the Virgins had the Hash Consultant do the hare brief – burble, burble, hic, hic, something about round checks and sticks painted white. Nothing about how long the run was going to be. Visitors from Guam and Austin Texas looked anxious, but I did my bit to reassure them by telling them that the experienced Dr Byte wouldn’t let the Virgins fuck things up too badly . . .
So we were off. Well, I say that, but then I must say we were almost back at the A again before the run had really begun. In fact we had only run about half a k around the lake when we almost tripped over the songthaew. Surely not. Not this short. We could have gone back but we soldiered on and soon found more trail. And then the run really got going. And it was indeed a runners run, with very elaborate, devious checks, which the Hash Consultant had no doubt been significantly involved in setting. In fact they were so cunning, I found myself out in front then right at the back so many times I lost count. Does Nothing said I passed him five times during the run, but it felt more like ten to me. The trails were pretty good for the area around Mae Joe golf course, and bye and large we came in pretty close together – which was pretty good given the distance – although Miss Piggy was seen running in from a different direction with a knowing look on her face.
And then to the circle, run by DB as acting GM, of course. Time to splash the Virgin hares. But wait, the Virgins insisted on splashing the Hash Consultant instead. “It was all his fault.” And of course we all agreed it must have been his fault. After all he was in charge of everything – GM, Hash Cash, Hare Raiser, Beer Monster, Haberdasher, On Sec, Hash Consultant . . . A damned good circle: DB in excellent comedic form; songs and games from Guam and Austin; wings for me (yeah!) and Tasty Buns for being “the fastest,” which did not go down at all well with the Gravy Monster.
All in all it was a great day’s hashing – a long, well-marked, well-checked run followed by a short witty circle. An excellent Virgin attempt by Scaly Gladiator and his very amiable father, supported by that self-styled Hash Consultant, who will no doubt stand for election as Hash God as soon as the opportunity arises.
I
(Brown Finger)