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Run No:- |
1119 |
Date:- 30 August 2004 |
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Location:- |
Wat Khae Nai |
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Hare:- |
Lem "No good Boyo" Morgan |
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Scribe:- |
Snake Charmer (Trish Morgan?) |
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Arriving late, after being shamefully misdirected by the Hare, that aptly named No Good Boyo, who was obviously completely incompetent to provide decent directions to such an obscure, out-of-the-way locale. “Just follow the signs to Wat Kae Nai, they’re all in Thai, but they’re blue”. The HHH sign at the corner: how was I to know that meant Hash House Harriers, and not Hua Hin Hotel, or Hank’s Huge Hiney? I mean, really, what are we, clairvoyant?
I wasn’t the only one late; I noticed Kick Toey Boxer, Normal Chaubert, George of the Jungle, and Hashingdale: all fellow victims of what was obviously a well-conspired, sinister ploy by No Good Boyo to keep the top runners, and key Chiang Mai Interhash committee member, away from what would later prove to be a shameful display of Hareness.
As we set off into the jungle, the klongs and paths and complicated undergrowth soon reminded us that there’s nothing like a Hare of limitless ingenuity to conjure you up a decent trail. And No Good Boyo is nothing like a Hare of limitless ingenuity.
It was really shocking the way the trail twisted back on itself on several occasions in a dangerously amateurish fashion. I felt like I was chomping in a mid-80s Ms Pac Man video game. This was clearly an undisguised attempt to get two stretches of trail out of one stretch of flour (and yes, I have it on good authority, when NGB moves house, he does take the last tray of ice cubes, and the wallpaper with him).
It was uncanny the way we seemed to keep bumping into the old man with the dogs. “Kradat yu non”, he would point, like a mysterious shepherd guiding lost sheep. What was behind this? Another one of NGBs thinly veiled guises, as he tried to lull us into thinking he was a Hare Who Cares? How much had he paid this imposter (obviously a professional actor) to appear out of nowhere and provide seemingly merciful assistance to bewildered Hashers, as he led us through the little Blue Gate to Nowhere?
At some point in the run there was a curious departure from the usual: NGB had set up a little Karoke station, complete with instructions from Organ Morgan, exhorting us to enjoy ourselves and take a break. Here again, the complete unprofessionalism of a Hare who is mixing his metaphors and confusing the ON IN with the ON INN. And while we are on the subject of ON ON: much confusion arose as a result of the Hare’s carelessness, when he wrote ON ON sidewise on the sidewalk, in such a way that it was completely impossible to tell if the correct interpretation was ON ON or NO NO, two phrases with polar opposite meanings, obviously designed to confuse and confound, in a most devious manner. In fact, it may even have been ZO ZO! How were we supposed to know what to do??
This cunningly devised confusion spread through the ranks, as Hashers of various nationalities began gibbering in their own language. “NON NON” in French, apparently means either “ON ON” or “NO NO”, depending on the direction to which is shouted. “JA” spoken by an American to a Swede can mean, “Yes, the paper seems to found in this general direction” or “No, they appear to be coming back this way”, depending on the direction that the FRBs are moving at the time. And “KRADAT YU NI” seems to be Thai for “Paper is here” or “What the F*ck are you stupid farang doing in my neighborhood every Monday night”, depending on the nearness of ferocious soi dogs to the speaker.
The way the pack seemed to always keep together, allowing even the likes of Mini to enjoy the FRB position for full moments, or even minutes at a time, was patent evidence of NGB’s overriding agenda of creating an image of A Kinder, Gentler Hare. It was conniving and bald-faced.
It ended. The pack gathered just as the clouds did, and we found ourselves in for the embarrassing spectacle of the entire circle lauding misplaced praises on the clearly inexperienced, amateurish Hare. I could hardly stomach the site, especially knowing, as we all did, deep down, the shameful truth: that, like the gubernatorial candidates and Olympic Officials before him, our No Good Boyo may not be above buying favors to achieve his own ends.
The Circle took place in a drizzling rain. Hard to say which dripped more relentlessly, really. Some bits I remember:
1. A couple of returners.
2. Two American visitors: Cabin Boy, to Capn Eric’s delight; and Lifa from China.
3. A couple of stand-in election candidates to provide a little political color.
4. I wonder if I turned off the iron?
5. Jump Start for driving badly (twice in)
6. Lion King for being a woman, or crying in sports.
7. Ghengis for not being Greek.
At one point, I nearly nodded off, but was pulled up by the sheer decibel power of Mini, who bellowed the DOWN DOWN song the way only he can – like a Best-in-Show bull catching its nads on an electric fence. Luckily for the residents of the temple and surrounding village – the sound didn’t carry that far, otherwise there would have been a rash of letters to Thai Rat from Disgusted in Bang Kluay or Apoplectic in Kae Nai.
The ON ON ON involved loud music, hot food, a few bottles of performance-enhancing alcoholic supplements, and talk of hunting accidents. At one point, there was a real chance that the band was trying to strike up Delilah, much to No Good Boyo’s delight. I managed to get the lead singer off to one side. He told me that he had also been to the doctor’s recently. His problem was that he couldn’t stop singing “The Green Green Grass of Home”. The doctor said that possibly he had Tom Jones Syndrome. When he asked the doctor whether that was common, the doctor replied, “It’s not Unusual.”
A moment of righteous indignation threatened to well up in my breast when I noticed Normal Chaubert approaching NGB, no doubt to try to corner him into working on the Interhash Chiang Mai 2006 Committee. After all the phony praise, and trumped up compliments over his run, NGB was obviously polishing his GPS for greater glory. Fortunately, Normal turned her attention instead to the young Pillager from Palau, and thus, No Good Boyo’s charming wife and devoted family were spared the desperation that would be wreaked on an otherwise happy home, should he be pulled into service for two years of pre-Hashing the Interhash.
In summing up let me end with a mention of the small village where No Good Boyo spent his early days of Hashing, in the green valleys of his Welsh homeland: Llareggub. Run that backwards and you get everything that needs to be said about tonight’s run.
On On
SnakeCharmer
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