Bali Hash House Harriers 2

“The Best Li’l Ole Hash House Not in Texas”

Fear and worry no longer good BHHH2 Harriers and Harriets for your Hash Scribe has returned! (Deafening silence of rapturous non-applause, a non-cacophony of not wild whistles and undelirious huzzahs, a sitting non-ovation). Yes I survived Darkest Malaysia, and folks it’s now official, if the Hash I attended with the International Hare and Hounds of Penang is any indication, Bali HHH2 is easily the best Hash in South East Asia and therefore the world and more than likely, the universe. So there. Not that they weren’t a dang friendly bunch on the Pearl of the Orient, what with a hasher called Mini Sausage going well out of his way to give me a ride to the site and another plumb neighborly gent by the name of Texas Bullshitter giving me one home. The run itself was a painful 45 degree slog straight up and down a thickly jungle clad hill side, it was so dense I cursed myself for not bringing a machete and native bearer and kept presuming Dr. Livingstone all over the place. The circle consisted of a “Grand Master” (they’d never heard of a Hash Master), a Chinese chap who hadn’t started shaving yet and looked about ten years old, announcing a roster of folk one by one to sit on ice packs and have cold water poured over them for ludicrously minor transgressions imagined by him (ha ha). Actually, to digress even further that’s what this guy did when he laughed – he actually went “ha ha ha ha ha” like they do in comic strips and “Short Stop” the kid in “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” did. I never met anybody who did that in real life. I have now.

But this was nowhere near as amusing as the conversation I had with a somewhat ill-disposed and feisty local lass on the way back from the run listening to Country music in Texas Bullshitter’s car. Me: “That’s Lionel Ritchie isn’t it?” Her: “What? No Rionel Litchie? You think I don’t know Kenny Logers? I know all Kenny Logers song, “Irands in The Stleam” (with Dorry Parlton), “Luby, Don’t Take Your Ruv to Town”, “Lhinestone Cowboy”. Me “Hang on, no that one’s Gren Campberr, I mean Glen Campbell”.

Anyway it was a downright, dagnabbed re-lief to get back to the good ole Bali Hash House Harriers Two run on Saturday set by Lost and Found, Bemo and Ocxzy. What a great run it was too, (TWO!) Yes, there were some quite challenging ups and downs, but also interesting features were actually involved, such as a bamboo bridge and wading river crossings in bracing waters, an impressively large foaming and misty waterfall that plunged with some force into a wide area of river in which scores of glistening and laughing children frolicked. Expanses of rice paddys and a quiet kampong, a couple of neatly grassed hotel entrances also graced this shortish but thoroughly enjoyable outing. There was no garbage, it was well papered, in easy reach of any areas Hashers would be coming from and had plenty of parking.

A pleasantly tangerine and yellow-orange sunset glow lit up the palm fringed scene as the circle began. It was good to be back and it got better, or worse depending on what kind of view you take of more or less grossly excessive beer consumption, tipsy high hilarity, silliness, merciless piss taking and crass ditty singing. Yes indeedy folks, we’ve got it all rart here at yoh favorite best little Hash not on the prairie; you wanna sody pop, sonny? Sorry about that, I hear a Texan accent and I can’t help mahself for weeks, yee-haw, (any accent for that matter).

It gladdened the heart to see Labia brandish his dripping bush at nervous virgins, why this is funny after the hundred and eleventy eleventh time remains a mystery, but it always is. I nearly soiled my jodhpurs watching Dancing Queen place his quickly-becoming-a-staple graffiti covered toilet seats around offender’s necks and nearly had an appropriate bowel movement as Comes Up aimed his water cannon at Cane Rat’s lowered (or raised) toilet seat which deflected the blast over the rest of the miscreants in centre circle. Well, okay it’s a tad juvenile but not even in the same country (literally) as “You must suck lah, not blow when down down lah, ha ha ha ha ha.” Even my casually weird exchange with returned wooden handicraft exporter, Wooden Eye, in mid-circle turned into a guffaw fest “What have you been up to, Wooden Eye?” “Fucking wooden robots”. “A bit mechanical on the whole, was it?” I guess beer assists all in these endeavors.

It was great to see everybody - over there was Skidmark, Agent Orange and here’s Fanny Wank, Whitebait, an old hand, an old body for that matter. Long Dong Silver and Jenny Two Melons, hadn’t seen them for months, Spook Grinder, Monkey Organ and Spank, and of course The Queen of Them All, Johan, no I mean Mudflaps, speak of the devil, who put up a sterling performance as “Harriet the Hasher” by Cab Calloway/Jangle Balls. Jesus, I was almost getting teary eyed and I’d only been away for three weeks. Cabbage makes the fart grow stronger, as they say. Maybe I should get a dog.

It would not at all surprise me if the Fourth of July run took place next Saturday, being the sixth of July then, and June 30 today. So I imagine the usual suspects will be rounded up for this event: Blow Joe, Worm, Marble Balls, St Tits perhaps and they will put their best feet forward. We’ll all be looking forward to seeing which feet are their best.

See you there,

On on
J.B.