Monday, July 16, 2012

Hash Trash 1630

Prance, prance wherever you maybe, I am the lord of the prance, said he!
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be, And I'll lead you all in the prance, said he!
And so we, the small but dedicated band of hard core hashmen and hashmeres, rocked-up at OTR, favoured drinking place of all the Grumpiest Old Bastards in Apia; we hash in the rain, we hash in the sun, we hash wherever we may be, we even hash at OTR (helping to add to the grumpiness of the place by upsetting all the GOB), and we follow the hare whoever he may be. And tonight we followed that prancing, chancing, dancing hashman Swinger as he led us on a live-hare prancing and dancing promenade around the town. Out the back of OTR onto the most expensive bit of road in town, up Ififi Street, round the side of the cemetery, past a couple of rather unsavoury looking washing/bathing pools which being at least half-a-mile from the sea and about 20 yards from the cemetery might not be the best place to drink from, and eventually into Togafuafua Road. We then pranced gaily past GayBoy’s “gatering” emporium, danced quickly past a pack of very unhappy sounding dogs which were fortunately locked inside a compound, out into Clock Tower Road, down the road where the sound of running feet and cries of “on on” past the Snake Pit must have woken Snake and Fang from their afternoon nap, and across the Clock Tower circus, no chance of Azontoing happening there tonight despite Ozzie trying to look like the gut in the advert, and round the back of the government building and on home to OTR.  

Funny how the number of hashmen and meres had increased significantly by the time the pack returned, some claimed to have done the run, others said they lost the paper and took a short cut back and since there was no paper this was at least vaguely plausible, for a change.
Anyway after what seemed to be a very long wait the GM called the circle to order. First up was Ursula a visiting German via NZ, helping Hornithologist to chase birds of the feathered variety and not the birds of the fluffy variety normally chased by the GM. Since there was no Godfather with his ukulele and no Sassy with her Eartha Kitt alto, it was left to that ageing but angelic ex-choirboy Tallyho to set the key in A-Flat-Beer for the hash choir. A veritable swarm of retreads were next; Fang, Snake, Rattlesnake and Venom visiting yet again from Snake Pit 3, Rebecca (another of Hornithologist's bird-chasing birds) who was supported by Hornithologist for failing to instruct about something or other. Neil was next caught leaning, but the poor lad must be exhausted being the “volunteer” at SPREP who has to do everyone else’s work while they swan around the world emitting noxious gases and stamping enormous carbon footprints everywhere causing further damage to the environment so they can then get more money to repair the damage that they themselves have caused. 

Weathercock was the local celebrity having been quoted in the Observer as saying that we shall all be in an El Nino by Xmas, there will be droughts and pestilence, cyclones and Cyclops and very likely the end of the world by Easter. Snake then noted that Tallyho should have the global celebrity award for something or other that was on the BBC, the Olympics being in London, the poms beating the Australians at cricket AGAIN, the Queen’s jubilee or something like that; but quite what Snake was doing listening to the BBC in the first place left the circle baffled.

Lewinsky failed to find any new shoes so was duly served a DD; and Witchdoctor was dobbed for being Poumouli’s CLR for his failure to send any history lessons for the circle this week; apparently he was too busy flying between Samoa and Fiji three times in the week.
In the absence of Crime the GM then dobbed poor Tallyho for being burgled on Sunday and Weathercock was called forward for leaving the hash BBQ exposed on his deck so that could have been nicked by the burglar at Tallyho’s next door. TopShelf then dobbed Weathercock again for apparently having turds printed on his T-shirt, but it seems that TopShelf was the only one who was looking at Weathercock’s man-boobs to see this, as the actual design was of peanuts, but then TopShelf would heed a set of steps and grappling irons to get close to Weathercock’s upper-body to able to see anything clearly. Tallyho picked on Ozzie for trying to look like one of the “cool dudes” in the Azonto advert (sunglasses, b/b cap at rakish angle, board-shorts), what is the hash coming to. Snake and Lewinsky then dobbed each other for something to do with a generator, presumably this is the one that powered the bloody great wheel in the engineer’s song and kept everyone in their families happy.

The GM followed next with an award to Swinger for something indecipherable, and Lewinsky did for Tallyho again for his holy shorts, last week it was Horny Ho perving Tallyho’s holy shorts, it is a real worry when Lewinsky is also perving; remember Rule 1, and Rule 1a: thou shalt not covet a Hashman’s Ass. Lewinsky was on a roll, many wished he was under a roller, as he now dobbed the GM for a lack of tools to fix the BBQ. Then in the circle it was the turn of Prince with his leggings, TopShelf in her lavalava, Today and Tomorrow for being too quiet, and Neil for something or other. Lewinsky must have been sniffing something as he was off again with dobs to the BBQ chefs Prince and SOTB. Then TopShelf was called out to do her bit for Old Glory and the 4th of July, and Snake was caught fondling, Fang presumably. Lewinsky (yet again) jumped in to dob Prince who he said was so under-employed at Transporters place that he was always cruising around doing nothing. The circle was now getting so fed up with hearing Lewinsky that the GM dobbed him for taking unseemly pleasure in dobbing all his hash mates. This got the biggest cheer of the evening.
Weathercock and Swinger then traded dobs, Weathercock complained that when he called Swinger at 6am to get a phone number as his house was flooding from a burst pipe Swinger didn’t answer, so where was he when his mates needed him; Swinger then complained that Weathercock should know his landlady’s number and not bother him with such trivialities so early on the morning. Well your scribe thinks that was the story anyway. Weathercock then took his revenge on Lewinsky as he had failed to invite the Commissioner of Police to join the circle to give us all an excuse to avoid the breathalyser. And so finally we came to the live-hare Swinger, Neil who was page-like in following in Swinger’s footsteps and Snake who somehow got into the final DDs.
On On and Toodle Pip 

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