Bali Hash House Harriers 2

Fe Fi Fo Fum, I Get The Whiff of an Oxymoron

You will be ecstatic to know that I’m back! You may however be depressed to learn that I never really went away. Anyway, here I am, wherever that is, in the bosom (yes, the bosom) of a resurgent Bali HHH2. Perhaps “resurgent” is a tad strong under the circumnavigations, perhaps “convalescing” is a bit more appropriate, “recovering” maybe, or how about “on a drip in a coma in the emergency ward”? Har, but I jape. We are absolutely thriving and full of renewed and boundless energy as a club now, despite being on the critically endangered species list.

Something had to be done, “members”. Someone had to come forth, put his (or her) left tit forward, sorry, best foot forward, put up with or shut up with, and they did, finally, thanks to the Extraordinary General (Unusual Regular) meeting of HHH2 at Merta Sari Beach in Sanur on Sunday. The trouble is, or was, that the previous mismanagement committee were doing such a brilliant job of mismanaging things that the other “members” became too complacent and reliant on the same group of Hashers doing the same job forever and ever, Armani. Also, that very same committee were on the receiving end of constant flak and criticism from “members” who complained bitterly about practically everything without volunteering to take up a position and do the hard yards themselves – very dispiriting indeed, tskedy tsk. So the whole box, dice and enchilada resigned, which left us rather... stuck. I myself (me, saya, soya, moi) did not attend the Annual General Meeting (Yearly Ordinary Chat) at Auman as such, but they tell me things were fairly tense, what with no one (nobody, not anyone, no buggar) volunteering to take up a vacated position. Something like that anyway, details are sketchy owing to my distinct lack of actually being there, but it has been said that the atmosphere could have been cut with a blunt Stanley blade, and was enough to void the strongest of bladders.

So, to the results of the Entirely Novel / Nothing Out of The Box Meeting on that fateful Sunday, and then to next week’s run, after it comes, which as you may recall was once the purpose of this screed, but I top myself (shut up):

• Hash Master – Labia
• Religious Advisor - Dancing Queen
• Beer Master - Gizzard
• Song master – Organ Grinder
• Grand master – Night Jar
• Scribe – Jangle balls
• Hash Boutique – Muddy Girl

Hey, wait a minute, I hear you interrupting. This is exactly the same as last year. W-e-e-e-elll, you’re not wrong you know, but please shut up again so I’ve got something to fill this page up with, thank you. Nobody likes change anyway, so there. There were a few changes, Serial Offender takes over as Hash IT (not Hash shit, smartarses), Hon Sec is now Spook, Hare Raiser becomes Muddy Man, or vice versa. Hash Cash is now Screaming Lord Clit. A slew of hashers such as Parashit, Skidmark, Orful Fuck and Cane Rat have taken up back-up positions in various roles. Hash Beans is now a Cecil B. De Mille-like cast of thousands: Yo Yo, Pies Y.C., 69 er, Ringtail, Morning Glory, Filthy S. Other erstwhile Hashers, those are not always here, there’s nothing negative about the word erstwhile you know (officially), have offered their back-up support services in any category: Hardcase, Mudflaps and some of the aforementioned above, below and on the side. That’s what my trusty I phone photo of the white board at the end of last Sunday’s sparklingly novel / totally ordinary meeting tells me anyway.

And, for those of you who missed it, it was also a great piss-up, what with a Bali Hai beer truck present, so nya nya nya nya nya to you. Best of all, we didn’t have to run anywhere! Giant kites flew and grey clouds scudded overhead on this raw and windy afternoon. It had been pissing down on and off all day but not a drop fell on the surprisingly interesting / terminally average meeting as we gargled our way into the night - a potent portent if ever there was one.

So a hearty Hash thanks to all who attended and for the overwhelming support of all Hashers volunteering to pitch in and help the club survive. It was even a little touching in some ways (I swear somebody tickled my arse in the semi-circle and I only hope he or she was female).

We await with baited (ho) breath for the next hash map and look eagerly forward to the next run. Lucky there is one to look forward to, with any kind of breath.

As ever,
On on
Thank Christ, or whoever,
J.B.