Let’s start this report a little differently with a straw poll of runners’ comments:
F…… scratchy grass
Very friendly run
F…… painful b……. pineapple leaves
Great run
A lot of fun
I will run again
I will maybe run again
There are two sides to everyone (er?)
The hares put in a lot of work
Fantastic run
Sand in the shoes
The hares make a lot of effort on this hash
A lot of ducking and dodging
Well it sure was all of the above. When this scribe got there of course. Unable to understand the directions from Bangkok, this scribe spent 40 minutes furiously driving up and down Highway 36. However she, being the Joint Bushmaster, was secure in the knowledge that the pack, her pack, could not, indeed would not, leave without her. Wrong of course! Steeped in indignation and stress, she set off in pursuit with her own mini-pack of late runners consisting of Hash Hash and Karen. Through rivers, over ravines, across marshes, over frogs and past bulls she ran. Luckily said bull was standing docilely, probably thinking Oh Christ not more of those mad bloody humans. Only later did she discover that a furious stampede had indeed occurred, and that was only the runners! Salvation soon came however in the shape of kind sweet gorgeous ViVi, out waiting for her. Or so she thought. Actually all he was doing was waiting for the last and late bastards had passed, to pull in his rope (yes sirs, that’s what sort of run it was) but it was a nice thought. So this Bushmaster emerged from the bush to the welcome sight of the piss truck and a welcome party consisting of Charlie Manson, Fini, Bend Over Belgian and FS Jazzer.
Now at this point an executive decision was made. Why not miss out the next (apparently mountainous) section, ride to the next piss stop and catch the pack up? Brilliant idea. Off she lurched to the “C” stop in time to welcome in the pack and run off with them into the final distance.
Strange though it might seem, the last section consisted of much the same as the first section with a bit of pineapple plantation and acres of tapioca thrown in (what was that, Fini, about flat and easy; only a bit of tapioca, but not much? Eh??? Eh????)
Back it was to the usual round of casualties. Tania and Walter sped off early (Tania complaining about some strange affliction called “fasting”). Bushman and Miserable Person buggered off before the end of the circle (all getting too much is it???). Charlie Manson fabricated an attack of dehydration (OK Charlie we know you are sick of driving the piss truck) and was driven off, together with wife Sharon Tate and hash nurse Karamba, to seek medical attention at Shenanigan’s (eh??) But all was otherwise calm and safe. She Who Cooks Like an Angel, Pissed Pole Dancer, provided her usual feast and everyone settled down (without, might I add, waiting for this Bushmaster again. What is HAPPENING to the Bush??)
A few folk ended up on the ice. Well everyone actually and some MORE THAN ONCE! Once again this Bushmaster was upset because once again she did not get to sit on Karamba’s knee. But when she picked all her toys up again she realized that there is always yet one more chance. But OK, who was iced? Difficult one, requiring short term memory. How about a sample then?
Hares for a great run
Virgins for being virgins, one real apparently
Deep Shag, No Meat, Weedeater, Bushman for being in the Himalayas
Pussy Virus, Charlie Manson for being in the Bushmaster’s dreams
Everyone for being too bloody quiet
Teachers for corrupting youth
Hares for crap directions
Finally a posthumous Down Down was given to Sneak Out Sprout who sadly passed away recently in the Philippines from pneumonia. On On, Bush friend! And the piss truck managed to drive itself home, with Rabid Bitch merely holding the wheel and Pissed Pole Dancer giving expert instructions. To where, though?
Well Hares, thanks again for a brilliant run and shitloads of time and effort. You gave us all a run for our money and a f………… good time.
On On!
Knickerless xxx
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