September 2013 | By: The Scrutable Scribe
"The Lord of the Things – The Return of the Thing", (Part three in a trilogy of five) by R.R.R.R.Rrrrrr Tolkein
Returning to Hash Shire this week from an expected journey to the City of the Lion, where he tells us he had to slay the double dragons of a seafood curry and a mutton vindaloo plus try to outsmart a creature who dealt in visas and called himself "Solemn" but whose real name was Sleazebag ("What's it got in it's pocketses?"- Sound familiar?), was one Jangle Balls. But, as they say in the fantasy fiction classics, we'll deal with him later.
First, a few tense moments in the Avanza were had between those (four blokes, of course) who pretty much to a man had individual theories, which were in constant flux, of how to get to the hash site in the lack of the appearance of a tee junction plainly marked on the hash map. Far be it from any of us though to cast nasturtiums on the normally admiral and, yea, towering abilities of the Hare raiser. All teeth gnashing aside, this was a minor blemish (compared with what we normally go through). It is here that we will agree to address this issue later or not even bother revisiting either topic introduced above, and say a big slavering thank you for the guest ghosts who have shouldered the Trash putting out for the last couple of weeks. Well done girls, although their iden - titties and genders will remain unexposed.
Once again early leavers left in droves and once again controversy raged among those left in the car park taking one extreme and oft' repeated view or another. The hash is nothing if not reassuringly predictable in this area, maybe it's the advanced years of the participants in these debates. Some blame the leavers a group who seem to be dominated by a certain ethnicity which shall remain South East Asian, and others blame the hares for setting runs that end in unfortunate souls getting hopelessly lost in the sawa / jungle / desa / circle e.g. "I'm buggered if I want to do checks on me own in the middle of the bloody night". "If the bastards want to leave and come back at different times why don't they form their own hash?" Personally, I agree with both positions and once again beseech you labia and genitals out there to please keep the runs to an acceptable hour of return and do try to join the club and start running or walking with your fellow "members".
Right, so, the run: hares 69er, who if he stood on his head would still be 69er, and Ringtail who would be rail thin if she stood on her head promised us a flattish and none too challenging run, which was almost what we got. (I wonder if you called 666 in England you'd get three policemen standing on their heads). This was an extremely well thought out run and the scenery was really quite arresting in parts. The parts that I'm thinking of specifically were the quaint temple at the end of a water feature full of aquatic leaves of some type, and a long, absolutely amazing, unobstructed and sweeping view of the countryside surrounding a somewhat shallow (by Bali standards) river valley across paddy fields. There were some river entries, exits and re entries and very nice jungle sections indeed. In fact this was a fairly hard to beat run all in all. Very little garbage and not a lot of asphalt pretty much sealed the deal that I was lucky to return at this point in the receding hairline. I just don't know about "flattish" though, but hey, I mean hey. Hats off to the hares, which they might need to borrow so they can stand on their heads.
Back at the double story car park Labia absolutely devoured virgins and a circular argument developed with at least one of three utterly bewildered and certainly not amused German virgin gentlemen (is the German word for virgin "Kraken" something too?) one of whom ended up on the wrong end of the ice. Well, I don't suppose the poor bastards see much behaviour of this abandoned nature in Dusseldorf or wherever you come from if you don't have much of a sense of humour, sorry, but Himmel! Monkey Balls called in quite a few members of the newly formed "Naughty Wives Club (within a club)" and jolliness seemed to be abounding what with Clintonian mary pyjama smokers who swore they never inhaled.
Jangle Balls sang Johnny Cash odes to curries that passed through him as he passed through Little India (the "Ring of Fire" of Singapore). Hilarity and tipsiness prevailed. What don't those of Teutonic persuasions understand about this? Having said that there were some Austrian folk (Germans with altitude) present who seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, so we can't tar them all with the same brush, eh Major? No, I suppose not Fawlty, any sign of the papers?
Great run, great circle, are we having fun yet? If not, tell us when to stop. On on to Sobongan on Saturday, . Beers! (Hash version of cheers).
