BMH3 Run report

Run 1535, 20 August 2012
Location: Baan Suan Golf Driving Range, Bang Kruay, Nonthaburi.
Hare: Jeff 'Bugs' G
Scribe: Anonymous

A curate’s egg of a two part report…

Part 1

“You’ll love the run mate, loads of paper and not a drop of f_cking rain”. Bugs actually uttered these words before the run. I looked up to the sky and pointed out darkening clouds to the northwest. Love Canal said this was an optical illusion as I was looking through the driving-range net which made it look like there was rain on the way. Not one for extended argument I let my case rest on the empirical fact that it had rained in this same area for the last five days between 4-6pm. This conversation must have triggered something deep in the recesses of LC’s brain as he questioned whether AKM and I had knowledge of ‘Moist Adiabats’ ‘Altocumulus clouds’ and ‘Moires Fringe’. He was right. We had no idea what these terms meant, but we could have told him about the distribution of power over a national grid! Such is the danger of specialised knowledge in the sometimes silent intervals before and just after a run. Even if one tends on the loquacious side, it can put a millstone around the conversation and kill it stone dead, as it were. So as far as this weather terminology is concerned I am still in the dark.

Did I mention dark? It was certainly getting darker as we set off following loads of paper as promised. Then into the bush and we were off paper. The pack turned back. Hash-Hash and Spinning Dwarf while searching for the trail were confronted by an angry gardener wielding a machete. According to HH, they backed off a bit and called him names from a safe distance! In the meantime, Anal Rape had returned from the confused pack with a determined look about him. It might have had something to do with that outrageous modern blue dry-fit Continental Airlines T shirt he was wearing. But that was the last that was seen of him on the run, apart from an incident recalled by AKM in the circle, where he described being abandoned at Wat Ban Khanun by this same person who ignored the well- established Anglo-Saxon philosophy ‘always look after your mates’ and ‘stick together’. Anal Rape has more of the US Navy philosophy when in distress viz; “women and children first, after the precious officers”.

I don’t have any idea what happened on the run apart from the first kilometer or two where after 20 minutes of thrashing in the bush, Hash-Hash and I found ourselves back on the road dangerously close to the start. We ascertained that the Hash Piss had not yet arrived, so avoided the otherwise obvious decision to return to the piss. We lost the trail for a second time and ignoring more confused hashers on the road, decided to jog towards Bang Kruay Police Station and circle back to the start.

That’s when it pissed down and we were joined in the shelter of the shop by the GM and Julian Assange’s father. I heard Assange senior tell the visiting Indonesian couple that when he was working in Indonesia, there were Orang-Utans everywhere you looked. Which made me think that working in that office environment must have been horribly dangerous. Picture the office scene would you? Jane the secretary/PA poised over typewriter, legs crossed demurely in gossamer tights and our man in pin-stripe suit with a Montblanc pen thoughtfully to his lips. “Jane my darling, do take a letter please ---- oh f_ck, LOOK OUT!! there’s a bloody Orang-Utan behind you”. Sorry, I digress.

As rains eased off even the latecomers started coming in, some like Noriega for example, had apparently been on trail the whole time!! This was the signal, together with the cumulative effects of the beer that prompted Bugs into a more positive mood.

Two fine RA’s graced us with their presence. Noriega just back from representing New Zealand at the London Olympics, showed his gold medal, one of very few that the Kiwis managed. His linguistic skills however had taken a dive downward, when the Indonesians accused him of speaking like a bloody Malay! Noriega was saddened that during his absence he had lost some of the affection that he had previously received. Referring to one of the hashers, he said “he used to call me my brother”. A wag in the circle retorted “and now he calls you his sister”!!

Then came the perambulating posits of AKM, fresh from that wonderfully satisfying world of education. He immediately pointed out the poor grammar on the Indonesian’s T- shirt which boldly announced….. “1 RUNS”. He then revealed the “Who ate the pies award”. He had been in touch with Jeff’s wife on Face Book and she had revealed some damming pictorial information. There was Jeff slaving over 20 pizzas – and according to his wife, he ate them all!! As we chant at Swansea City FC (usually to the ref) YOU FAT BASTARD!!!

We then ran through a whole gamut of scenes with numerous down-downs including the well-deserved down down for abandonment given to Continental Airlines Man. This all cumulated in the POW, a very close run affair between the two Indonesian visitors, Assange Senior, Anal Rape and Nippy Nickers (a Swede from Dacca) who feeling quite at home on her second BMH3 run was confident enough to heckle contributors and sing “why are we waiting” as soon as beer had touched lips. Her husband who unable to keep her quiet (must be a schoolteacher I thought), had to put the beer tube between his legs, while Nippy Nickers now on her knees, sucked admirably.

It was nice to see our GM back, deftly organizing proceedings. Thanks Bugs for the run and to Kim and Id for sorting out the snacks and drinks.
On On – Scribe 1

Part 11

The On On On was a jolly affair sat on the top deck of the driving range. Muffled voices and lots of Ping...f*ck could be heard from the lower decks. Ambrose did a face plant from his chair, somehow, but was soon back smoking and drinking as if nothing had happened. Todd was also having problems with the evolutionary concept of an upright gait. She with the whore's cough turned out to be a No Meat clone but could eat seafood. Apparently there is a word for that to? A pescetarian. Husband/boyfriend of tried to convince all about the virtuousness of mob rule thinly disguised as democracy until someone quoted Churchill. “The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter" or in this case with a teacher from Muscat.

The couple from Manado seemed a bit out of water and were slow on the quick or hungry concept.

Tui arrived late to escort the now vertically challenged Jeff Cash (OK he is permanently vertically challenged but in this context you all know what we mean) home. But not until after she managed to persuade him out of his inebriated state of run reputation
saving generosity. So sorry Jeff it was a shit run.

On On - Scribe 11

Bangkok Monday Hash House Harriers