Venue : Bukit Cahaya
Hare : Jimmy Legget
Co-Hare :
Scribe : Paul Smith
Five Go Hashing!
It was fairly typically a damnably warm day as the new GM bade “On On” under cloudless skies and set of another years Hashing with Petaling. A few metres down the metalled road and it was ‘on right’, immediately setting off up a steep hill. “What sort of a stupid Hare would start a run like this?”(Up a hill, in a location at the foothills of the Central Malayan Range [hills big enough to cause, bi‑annually, monsoons in India!] and in the midst of a country where hills are quite often the norm as soon you step off the road………..! Obviously a twat?)
“This is a jolly tough hill” suggested Saru, exhaustedly, after the first hours clambering on all fours.
“I think so too sweetings” agreed Roger agreeably. “In fact its sooooo big I feel we ought to measure it!”
With that, it was new GM Terry to the fore, replete with PHHH official measuring tape to determine the validity of the offending hill.
“7.53 metres” declared a tired but indignant GM, “and that, according to Petaling Rule 637A, Sub Section C, makes this hill illegal!”
A sombre silence pervaded.
“Illegal by 6.53 metres actually” intoned Opera, Petalings favourite son.
With that the ruling was made to avert the hill.
“Thank goodness for that” agreed Chai Fling “I’m frightfully tired. That Hare is simply a rotter!” she continued bleating as the pack wound its way back down the contravening hill in a generally relieved manner.
Ten minutes, and 9 metres later, Opera stumbled on the first check, beside a charming, crystal clear stream. After sitting down en‑masse, and spending 3 hours waiting for Opera to break the check on his Jack Jones, the pack heard Opera call the ‘On’ from over the stream.
“Bridge!” requested Saru expectantly, but sharply. “Where’s the bridge?!”
After spending half an hour checking 10 metres both upstream and downstream no bridge was found.
“According to Rule 8209G, Sub Section 34” advised Terry, “the Hare is under full obligation to provide a device (may or may not be a bridge of stone/wood/steel construction) to allow the Hash to continue on its somewhat sedentary way. Failing that it’s the Big Black Men.”
At that the four Big Black Men who had been sitting amiably beside the stream, watching the Petaling HHH charade, stood up and approached the pack. By simply loading each member of the pack in a Ministry Approved back pack specially designed for carrying unfit, spastic‑like, fat‑bastard, overly‑mature Hashers through 3cm deep torrents the Big Black Men soon had PHHH on its sloth‑like way again, much to the disappointment of Chai Fling, who was particularly fond of Rule 8209G, Sub Section 34’s alternative solution (and who said Petaling was inflexible?).
Another 30 metres and it was check #2, arrived at by a somewhat spiteful, if not downright vindictive, circular around a sapling. This time, no matter how long the pack sat on it’s collective fat arse and waited, Opera just couldn’t break this dastardly check, despite checking for distance’s up to 8 metres towards the horizon.
“That’s it. I’ve HAD IT!” exploded the new GM, injury being added to insult by his dummy striking him on the hip after rebounding off the tree onto which he was clinging for dear life. “That Jimmy Legget is just trying to ruin my year before its started! Rotter! Rotter! Rotter! ” he opined vociferously whilst stamping his feet in a futile, puerile, juvenile, senile, PHHH‑like manner.
“I think he’s a rotten sport,” agreed Roger, agreeably.
It was then that Saru brought down a powerful silence upon the Hash (except Opera who was still checking all the way round on the other side of the sapling.)
“I’ve had enough of that sod‑dodder Legget. I’m going to short‑cut back to the cars.”
What should have been a shocked silence, but was actually completely the norm coz it happens every week, was just another admission of the triumph of age over matter.
“But that may be dreadfully dangerous darling” suggested Roger, a tinge of panic working its way into his high pitched, schoolboy‑like voice. “You may have to traverse ‘a very severe old logging trail (?) that is dry but is covered with fine sand and pebbles. It may be difficult not to be out of control as you make your way to the bottom’ or get eaten-up by a frightful thing or be out‑partied by a 60 year old Superstar Co-Hare called Arsehole!”
“No, Saru is quite right” considered the new GM. “Rule 3098, Sub Section 43, para 19; ‘If you are a runner of questionable ability and fitness, and find yourself cut off from the rest of the pack after 7:30PM, under no circumstances stay on paper. You should make your best effort to determine the completely wrong direction (preferably down a sound‑proof ravine with a particularly nasty rocky stream awaiting you in the pitch ‘kin black) wait till it is indeed pitch ‘kin black and fuck off in that general direction just as fast as your podgy little legs’ll take you there!’”
“No Roger, I’ll be just fine. The cars are just there.” Saru pointed out, indicating the cars some 30 metres away, cars which had never actually disappeared from view throughout the whole Hash! So, with Ramli watching the whole sad debacle whilst leaning against the beer wagon in a disconsolate manner, sadly shaking his head, the pack decided, like it did every week, that enough is simply enough and wandered back to the beer wagon after 6 minutes away from it to talk about the good old days when PHHH could actually get up a reasonable sized hill without complaining more than Jews getting off trains at Auschwitz!
But after 46 100+’s each (once it had been established that all present were paid up 49 years in advance) the pack started to recuperate, stopped passing the oxygen bottles between each other and started on the Sherry and Babycham’s.
Another simply splendid PHHH day and all home and wrapped up in bed by 7:30PM! Spiffing – just fuckin’ Spiffin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??
PHHH – Your chance to Hash with WUZZIES!
Posted by onsec at March 17, 2005 01:21 PM