Stats for Run # LXXVII 10th Feb. 2007
Total turnout = 47

Run report included on this page

Hares:

Sorry, no pics this run
Photos for Bush Run # LXXVII
( click on the photo above )

 

 Hash names colour code:
 Men
 Women
 Child
 Number of runs

Ringworm (71), Weed Eater (58), No Meat (55), Seaman Stains (55), Pussy Virus (41), Festering Streaker (41), Fucking Dog (40), GI Joe (39), Peler (38), Seaman Swallow (38), Arseaholic (33), Care Bear (33), Rabid Bitch (30), Ball Ringer (26), Bell End (25), Rusty Ringhole (18), Timmy Tightpants (12), The Tickler (12), Late Cumming Ball Slapper (10), Dizzy (10), Tinkerbell (9), Jackal (8), Roger the Sick Prick (6), Touch My Stuff (4), Lynxx (3), T Rex (3), Nicky Brusselers (3), Sir Bog Diver (3), Serge Henkens (3), Daniel Bourchy (2)

Ann Ringhole, Mijo Slut, The Midget, Aud Stangsland, Holger Harring, Eric Cornille, Marty Birkinshaw

GHM Pussy Virus left early after the run looking very fetching in a blouse and skirt. He said he had a wedding to attend, but it looked more like he was going to a ‘gay boyz’ night-out to me ! His early abort meant fellow GHM No Meat had to ‘carry the can’ – or that scary bushman carving with the ‘big’ hair - solo, and run the circle….and run it she did. Despite finishing second in a sprint triathlon before breakfast, No Meat had thoughtfully saved enough energy to shame most of the rest of us on the afternoon Bush trail and at circle.

Timmy-not-so-tight-pants and his sidekick, Cheap-Norgy had discarded their lurid bionic shin supports  and laid an awesome trail over undulating and breath-taking [ yeah, literally..], terrain. For your average middle-of-the-pack runner the first half of the run took around 45 minutes and the second half was slightly longer at around 55 minutes. Of course the pace was much quicker at the ‘sharp end’ as ‘Sverge’ [or is it ‘Surge’ ?], and his camelbak-toting ‘Team Extreme’ fell into a fast-moving peleton. Hell, even Rusty Ringpull was struggling to keep up…and where was Jello Butt ? Two months in the desert humping camels is no excuse Buddy !

I clung to the leaders in their compression tights and aerodynamic dew rags as they tip-toed delicately over rocks and pineapple heads and climbed and climbed….Near the top of one peak I overheard coach Surge addressing his team, ‘You see, zees Bush hashing eez great training for zee r#%$, eh boyz ? ‘Ach ja, Herr Surge, du bis richtig ‘ replied the pony-tailed one in the micro shorts from the North of England.

After we summitted, well naturally, we descended….except for Touch My Stuff and Dizzy who preferred the faster route round the base of the mountain and didn’t even bother to leave sea level. Fair cop. Surge and his boys were ‘piqued’ ‘cos they didn’t really grasp the concept of hashing and couldn’t understand how they could be beaten without being passed. Pussy Virus, his new prot้g้, the youthful ‘runs-like-a-woman’ Hagar, and I, got bored following racing tights and portable hydration devices packed with rocks and made our own ‘surge’ for the mid-way drink stop. Timmy Tight pants was waiting for us. He had seen everything from his unmanned aerial vehicle…who had short-cut, who had been caught on an F.T., who had pissed on the pineapples, who had picked boogers from their nose…he had even caught Dizzy and TMS trying to get a headstart on the second half of the trail.

Timmy Tightpants and Cheap Norgy had tried to make the second half of the trail more difficult than the first by disguising the paper as sand and grass [yellow and green paper – not a good idea hares !!]. I ceased to enjoy the second half of the trail due to no fault of the hares. The irrigation system in my Saucony’s failed to cope with my profuse sweating and agonizing blisters plagued me to the end. FRB was Pussy Virus or Hagar of the limp wrist. Pussy Virus was obviously really keen to get to his wedding and stepped it up once he hit tarmac...as did Jello Butt the misogynist who came out of nowhere to finish just behind me [ hee hee].

The flies were buzzing back at the A site and everyone seemed able to ignore them except me. Drippy started to explain the lifecycle of the flying menaces but I was too distracted to listen beyond the larval stage. Chairs were at a premium at the circle so Dizzy offered Jungle Hash stools made of specially sun-baked plastic to the weary. Charlie Manson bragged about his incredible flexibility then showed us how he could lick his own balls. Proudly he then sat on a sun-baked stool which promptly shattered under the weight of his freshly washed genitalia. The plastic-shattering continued as the Jackal joined Charlie on the ground, victim of another exploding stool! Thanks Dizzy! Mr. and Mrs. Tickler looked at the exploding stools…then at the clouds of buzzing insects hovering over the circle…then at their waiting air-conditioned, chauffeur-driven car with the fully-stocked drinks cooler, and promptly left! Who could blame them?

At the circle, R.A. after R.A. tried to rouse and entertain the somnambulant assembly. The hot and arduous run set by Timmy and Norgy had begun the ‘zombification’ of the pack and the large steaming bowls of sustenance provided by Mr. and Mrs. Semen Stains, completed it. Talk about ‘food coma’! Ringworm’s horserace for gummy worms and whiskey and Ban Chang Bar Bitch joke managed to wake up a few of the living dead and ‘award’ time interested a few folk. Ballringer pricked up his ears as he was called forth to collect a carved peanut bowl for completing 26 runs and G.I.Joe awoke from his slumbers to receive a bushman carving for 39 runs. Yawns and big z’sss pervaded the circle and quitting whilst the goings good seemed like the best line of defence. The circle concluded with a sleepy rendition of Swing Low and we were all home in bed by 2000hrs….

In hashing

LYNXX