Scribe Report: Run #388
The beautifully engraved charts, dare I say charts, were produced and
displayed in the usual places in plenty of time so that all Hashers knew
what was going on, and where. Problem was when? Saturday 4th May, as on
chart, or was it Saturday 3rd May, or was it Sunday 4th May. Never mind we
all knew what you meant, Hares. Speaking of which, Foul F**ker and Semi
Detached were on duty this fine Saturday when some 29 Hounds put in an
appearance at a very appropriate meeting site. Guess what, a new, untried,
untested, untrained, undersized and unheard G.M. took centre stage and
proceeded to screech her squeaky voice to try and control an unruly mob of
chomping-at-the-bit Hounds. Feetall Fungus was standing in for our regular
GM who had graciously, kindly and out of the goodness of his heart, taken on
the task as one of the Hares..see above. Two pairs of new shoes put in an
appearance and were duly christened, hooters were issued and off we all
went.up and up and up and up, get the picture, then down and down and down
etc. A scenic little jog through rubber and meadows and, for a little while,
following high tension cables which were laid on the ground. God knows what
would have happened had the power suddenly been switched on. Everybody made
it home and the short cutters were spotted and punished. The circle gave
names to three folk, Rigger (or Rigor) Mortis (or Mortice), Virgin Dick and
Bush Pig, aren't they just the lucky ones. I am very glad to be able to
report that we now know what happened to George, lost while on a Hash about
four years ago. His remains were recovered, or at least his skull was, by
Ayam, who ceremoniously carried it into the circle where it was given a
great welcome before being properly disposed of, we threw it into the bush.
It is now suspected that George was ambushed by head-shrinking pygmies and
probably the rest of him was 'et. We will miss him. On the other hand it
could have been the skull of a monkey.
Poor old Oedipussy, couldn't find the time to scribe last Hash so was
awarded the Shit Seat which he wore with panache for the required length of
time.
Dinner was at an old favorite, The Pier, and, accompanied by lashings of
beer and wine, a very satisfying repast was consumed by everybody.
On the whole a good run, a good meal and a great evening.
Bangseat.