Run Date: 29/03/21
Run No: 2109
Hare: Half a Boat
Venue: Palm St, Cremorne.
Number Hashers – 24
A sturdy group of 22 hashers (or was it 24?…..25?…..23?….. dunno) met at the overgrown site of an old old car yard, now mostly occupied by mossies and sandies. With vehicles parked strategically around the perimeter, it began to resemble a caryard once again, although with a distinct lack of customers.
Hare Half-a-Boat called us to order and sent the troops off over the bridge and into the depths of Mackay’s CBD, and around and around before arriving back where we started (I shortcutted in a little ahead of the throng.)
Some banter was bantered, and some dips dipped, until the Monkee issued a shrill call to order for the circle, whereupon the Monk launched his days of yesteryear quiz, keenly challenged by all present. Hare Halfa was called forward for his reward. And then called forward 3 times more for a variety of offences. Newly named Dogstyle was charged with having zero hash attire, and some other charges were thrown about, which I fail to recall. Hooker told a joke that I told 2 weeks ago, Tonguer messed up his attempt at humour, Flaps regaled the ladies with a tale about his wrinkled penis, and I brought forward my old friends Flavio and Giovanni.
Some awards were handed out: Daffodil scored some shorts in recognition of 1600 runs. 1600! Let’s put that in perspective. With 52 runs in a year, deduct 3 for being away on holidays. Deduct 2 for occasional illness. Deduct a further 2 for the “couldn’t be bothered” factor, and that leaves 45 runs/year. Divide 1600 runs by 45, and we find Daff has been at it for 35.5 years, which takes us back to around 1984 or so. Obviously there’s been nothing on Monday night TV for many long years…..
JCF received a towel for 200 runs, and….. Piccolo received a towel for 200 runs. Now, if we slice Piccolo’s towel in half, and sew one half to JCF’s, they’ll both have the right sized towel!
Enough dribble…. The circle closed with the club song, raucously savaged by JCF and Streaker, and we got further into the beer. A magic pot of hot stuff appeared (Dunno what it was but it tasted just fine) and filled the hungry bellies of the crew, before slowly drifting off into the night.
See y’all next week at the little white house on the hill (did I say hill?) in Rural View
Pensch.
