I’d like to report on the events of hash no.1570 but can’t, having become separated from the pack within spitting distance of A, and never to see it again.
It all started at the first check, an open check in Caine Road. True to his name, Hopeless took off like a scalded cat in an easterly direction, dragging most of the pack behind him. For no apparent reason they then wheeled down a stairway and the mad stampede petered out only when it was realised that they were indeed on trail but running in the wrong direction.
In the subsequent confusion, I proceeded back along Caine Road where I encountered Sweaty with the purposeful look of a man who know where he’s going. We then met up with Indy and Tight Lips and, with the many years of hashing between them, I felt quietly confident (if not a little smug) that this crack commando unit was going to rip this hash apart.
Alas, the first signs of false promise appeared when, running at my customary treacle like pace, I caught up with Sweaty going up a slight incline. I discovered he had a bout of flu and was feeling very ordinary. I gathered he was heavily medicated because he seemed quite incoherent. (though, on reflection, it may have been his accent). Nevertheless he was clearly struggling.
In the meantime Indy showed little interest in navigating her way around a hash run, preferring to belabour us with endless tales of an epic drinking session the previous evening. What with pints, shooters and assorted mixed drinks it sounded like she’d consumed enough to kill a small whale.
Thus, it was left to Tight Lips and I, which is why we spent a good 15 minutes wandering aimlessly within about a 100 meter radius of A. We finally found the trail but our faltering progress rendered any notion of crack teams more than a little optimistic.
We managed to find the steps up to Po Shan Road where it became clear Lost in Space must have been abducted by aliens. This was the only possible explanation for no markings being found for at least a kilometre (or so it seemed) either way along the road. Thus, we embarked on a sweeping mission in desperate hope of finding any sign of trail. We eventually found a vague marking on a set of stairs leading up to a trail through to Old Peak Road. In a spooky Bermuda triangle kind of way, Tight Lips also went missing on Po Shan Road (though it turned out in a subsequent phone conversation with Indy that she had better things to do than getting permanently lost on a hash….. like her hair) so four became three.
Sweaty’s medication seemed to be wearing off and he would have gained a second wind were it not for the fact that he hadn’t had a first one. Nevertheless he slowly disappeared into the darkness at about the same time Indy dropped off, presumably as a result of a drink induced petit mal epileptic episode.
In any event I ended up doing much of the rest of the run on my pat. I emerged from the trail on Old Peak Road to find Bobbledick and Motormouth acting as self-appointed traffic police, steering runners onto the wimps and rambos trails. Isn’t it nice that they can still find a useful role for themselves in the winter of their hash lives I thought to myself as I started the long haul uphill, with Sweaty’s bald dome bobbing rhythmically in the street lights up ahead.
The course took us up to Barker Road, which we followed down before turning onto Chatham Path. Toward the bottom section I heard the familiar patter of little feet and turned to see Indy had made a miraculous recovery and was reeling me in. We ran on together for a while but she seemed to have warmed even further to the topic of epic drinking and was trying to remember just how many drinks she’d had, and the alcoholic content of each, with a view to assessing whether the total amount of pure alcohol might be enough to break some longstanding Hong Kong SAR All Comers Boozehound record. I feigned interest as best I could before discreetly letting her ease ahead on Caine Road, leaving me to enjoy the relative peace and tranquillity of the bustling downtown traffic.
Before I get onto to down downs, it is my melancholy duty to report on one of the blackest episodes in lsw history when Wan Chai Wanker refused a down down. This regrettable incident occurred when down down MC Sweaty, now fully recovered from his Elvis style meds crisis, awarded him the newly instituted lsw loving cup for the second week running (a record) for wearing new runners on the hash. WW was having none of this though, arguing a fine point of hash law that, because he hadn’t worn the runners during the hash but only at the on on, this did not, therefore and strictly speaking, constitute wearing new runners "on the hash". This constitutional crisis has resulted in an emergency convening of the lsw board of management where it is expected they will rule that WW has erred in hash law on two counts. Firstly, the on on is an integral part of the hash therefore the wearing of new runners solely at the on on does not exclude them from being worn on the hash for down downs purposes. Thus, Sweaty was quite correct in asking WW to christen the runners in the time honoured tradition. Secondly, WW’s implicit argument that the justification for own downs be based in fact is naïve at best and sadly delusional at worst. The board is expected to announce its decision shortly with sanctions open to them including death by being locked in a room with Motormouth to banishment to the Southside hash, a hash so bleak even Dr Doom is considered funny.
Apropos of nothing, informal on on chat revealed that Rizwan is still moaning about the lack of eye candy on the hash following his recent return; Bite ‘N Suck’s aversion to cooking has degenerated to the point she’s now the only McDonald’s platinum card holder in HK; years of formulating sick and twisted hash names has taken its toll on Macau Drunk, forcing him to seek professional counselling; and Dave (the American – it’s not his fault), HK political correspondent for the San Francisco Gay Pride Bugle, believes George W Bush is misunderstood.
Down downs by Sweaty
Lost in Space – Cinco de Mayo run not on Cinco de Mayo but on 2nd May.
Dr Doom – Mr Wikipedia for his unsolicited insights into the battle.
Hopeless and Indy – for being a little tired and emotional
Strap On Sally, FFFM – beer bitches
Strap On Sally – advising Indy to miss a race with a mild wrist injury then entering and bringing home the bronze medal.
Indy Anus – not bitter about Strap On Sally’s treachery
Dr Doom – Arrives at La Terrasse and feels I’m not welcome
Bite ‘N Suck – took son gambling in Macau and made a fortune
Motormouth – any chance of a free beer
Dr Evil – went to a Wan Chai computer mall….with his hard drive in a brown paper bag.
Lost in Space – for his alien abduction on Po Shan Road.
Lost in Space – No chicken feet for dinner.
Not Important – waiting for Indy and Strap On Sally. Motormouth arrives milliseconds before the others and assures them she’s been taking care of him.
Boilers – taxi spat
Indy and Wan Chai Wanker – where angels fear to tread
Boilers – complains how busy he is yet still manages to complete 4 hashes in one week.
Piss Perfect – for recruiting Gunpowder Plod to help reccy next week’s hash. Is worried about wild boars but the only one he’ll see is GP.
FFFM – didn’t know it was possible to pee twice in 10 meters of water. Was she taking the piss?
Castrato – for posh beer drinking.
Macau Drunk – for injecting a little levity into the website……advertising the ANZAC day run as a calamity
Lost in Space – taking us to a restaurant with a toilet smaller than Bobbledick’s wallet.
Bite ‘N Suck – voodoo injury
Wan Chai Wanker – showing off his pad
Strap On Sally – using a potato peeler as an underarm shaver
Lost in Space – Describes nachos as caveman food; like cavemen had bags of corn chips lying around their caves.
Lost in Space – San Miguel at the bins
David – complains of doing 3 shit runs in a row.
Next run 1571 – Wednesday 9th May, 7pm
Steamers pub at Sai Kung (near McDonald’s in Chan Man Street).
A to A run. Wimps and rambos.
Minibus 1A from Choi Hung MTR (exit C2) or 101 from from Hang Hau (bus terminus next to MTR) – takes about an hour from Central or Tsim Tsa Tsui. Easiest to get off at terminus and walk the short distance back to the pub.
Showers at nearby stadium.
On on at Steamers – Indian $70 per head. Drinks at happy hour (half) price PAYG. Down downs free.
Hare: Piss Perfect 9741-9314