REPORT FOR
RUN # LXXXV
(# 85)

Another masterpiece that is the Bush Hash. When in the hands of such artisans as Dizzy and GI Joe the outcome could not be in doubt. Yet as you set off in a random direction with all the doubts of a French rugby team about to be humiliated at the Stade de France swimming in your head, there is always an element of uncertainty.

Shall I live to return to the A site? Will my mode of death be road kill? Cattle kill? Tea pot kill? Painted barbed wire poisoning? Dehydration on a cool day? Should I have packed my brolly? (No stupid, why would it rain in the rainy season- a ridiculous idea.) As usual we circled, greeted a few Sacrificial Virgins, a couple of Sacrificial Visitors, and valued returners, were shamefully misled over the structure of the run, and we were directed into the unknown.

And so we raced off, mercurial wings on our collective heels . We ran and ran and ran and ran. And ran and ran and ran and ran. Then ran and ran and ran and ran….. until twenty seconds after we’d started we were off paper and had to stand around chatting for another ten minutes until the FRBs found our way onwards. We were treated to the wonderful panoramae of Buddha images on rock, to majestic Wats on hills to far off Pattaya with its soulless bars…..full of soulless guys………..sipping soulless cold beers……consuming soulless pies with chips …..surrounded by attentive waitresses……oh well maybe later. And still the trail unfurled before us, as pawns in the hands of some ultimate grand masters the pack was glued together, even the most hangover ridden of us in earshot of the Ononism at the fore.

The run transpired to be a gentle 2 hours of largely flat ground, kind underfoot, with a few visits to the Fukawi tribe, and a cunningly disguised second part. This was advertised at the circle of sacrificial virgins to be as long as the first, but was fortunately only a third-you do the maths yourself. There were only a couple of losses on the first part: Are You Sure?....really wasn’t and the Bush Virgin Matthew ( soon to be Martin and then unnamed), but they didn’t stray far, and more importantly make it back for the beer.

The cattle were few and easily avoided, the weather was cool, and in the second part I didn’t even finish my bottle of water, we all kept to the left and avoided death on the blacktop, and the barbed wire was all artistically adorned with the blood of previous Hashers and so noticeable to even the most absent that it caused no injury-but the kettle!

There was something wrong with the infusion as many of us woke with internal scarring of the cerebral cortex that lasted well into the afternoon…..the hares were right, beware of the kettle and the mix therein. So back to the A-site, a wholesome buffet style meal was laid before us that would have made the Famous Five “glad to be hungry”(said George). We licked our wounds, and as many other people’s wounds as we could get away with and set our sights on the onerous third part of the run.

Even though the ice was set in a murky, muddy bog, and the heavens were threatening the Bush rise above it all to produce a circle-to be known in folk tales of the future as the Umbrella Circle-that was as fine as previously experienced. And what an array of umbrellae there were, of all shapes, sizes and colours, one for every Hasher that had one. As most were preoccupied in getting wetter on the inside than they possibly could have on the outside festivities progressed joyously.

There were full body condoms on show that Ken and Barbie would have been proud of, they do need a little bit extra on the hood though, and baseball caps aplenty, the importance of dry eyebrows should never be underrated. The hard work of Chicken Fucker’s assistant as barman on the beer truck and the naming of Chucky showed our Youth policy, and the presence of others didn’t. And let’s not forget the sound effects, there were prolonged sessions of electrostatic activity that rudely interrupted the proceedings, and had a wonderful knack of always getting closer to striking home without actually arriving……….and on that thought……..

ON ON. Rabid Bitch