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Run #1046 Our 20th Anniversary Run!!!
Date: 4th February 2012 start time 4:30pm
Hares: The Committee
Site: Pura Dalem, Tanggayuda, Ubud
Hashers,
We have been running around the hills, valleys and rice fields of Bali for 20 years! Can you imagine how many Susu we have all seen in that time? I bet many of you old farts have seen a lot more of them than us new comers!! Anyway, a fine celebration has been planned for you runners, so make your way to Tanggayuda on Saturday for a great run, lots of beers and some special treats.
On on,
MB.

Run #1045
Hares: Multigrip, Running Stool, Parson's Nose, Adeje
Site: Sobangan

January 2012 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Is That Your Water Dragon or are You Just Happy to See Me?

They say getting there is half the fun and yesterday was no exception. After being pulled over and extorted by a Galungan – money hungry cop for being the last of three cars and eight bikes (with four or five generations stacked precariously atop them) to go through a red light; I ejaculated (verbally, the cop was the one just about coming over his Rp 200.000) “Hardy har har, he didn’t even notice the international license was 2 years out of date.” Yes, mine was the moral victory alright, so there.

Moving right along, there was not only no HHH sign at the Blakiuh temple turnoff again, but nothing at the turnoff to Sobangan after that. So silly us, we kept on driving towards Reykcevic and almost got there when a Hasher who was foolishly following us finally decided we were idiots and we were pulled over for the second time that day. We weren’t lost - honest - we just didn’t know where we were.

So, Sobangan…It’s definitely one of the prettier drives in the run up to getting there and it was least as pretty a run. It’s just that, well dammit, 2 or 3 of the last 4 or 5 runs have been there. But who’s counting? Not me evidently. There was plenty of good wide padi subek on which you could actually run, not just squelch along doing the super model strut, and it was mercifully overcast enough not to fry to death out in the great wide open. The up ups were also mercifully gentle and there was a judiciously small amount of jalan. Pretty good all round, trims to Multi Grip and his crew.

A circle or something was almost formed by a startlingly present and politically correct Wooden Eye who honored our honorable Chinese friends with respectful, elevated and sensitive suggestions such as “Shut yer yellow hole” and lavish flattery like “Yer chinky bastards’’. Visiting R.A. Colonel Bloodnock mustered the descendants of Cathay and had them sing a rousing rendition their national anthem, “Ying Tong Tiddle I Po”. Just as well the race relations board wasn’t around. Gillard and Abbot have been dragged off in an undignified manner by their bodyguards as a result of less incendiary commentary. Who cares on the Hash? Nobody. It’s a much more democratic institution than, for example, Australia.

The sons of the Diaspora did however get their own back when they refused to shut their lobang kuning during the inevitable Jangle Balls and his Dung Beatles continuing retrospective: this week “Stuff me Dead” and “I Saw her Standing Bare”

In yet more honor of the Year of the Water dragon and in the interest of multicultural understanding, here are some common English phrases and their Chinese counterparts:

That’s not right – Sum ting Wong

I hit my knee on the coffee table – I bang my fuk in nee

Your body odor is offensive - Yu stin ki pu

Our meeting is scheduled for next week – Wai yu kum nao?

Stupid man – Dum fuk.

Okay, that’s enough of that, daddle doo.

On on.

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Run #1044
Hares: Monkey Balls and Dancing Queen
Site: Pura Dalem Singapadu

January 2012 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

The Mud People of Singapadu

I bet you’re thinking “Why is this idiot always on about mud”? And you’d have a point. It’s a fact of life on the hash in Bali, and as the shrink said to the Tom Jones Syndrome sufferer, it’s not unusual.

There’s even a HHH2 tee shirt somewhere with “Run a muck in Bali” on it. So why, you surely must be beseeching the heavens, doesn’t he shut the duck up about it, quack. Because, my pointy headed little buddies, it’s such great mud. It’s luscious lumpur, its mercurial muck, it’s superb slop, it’s… it’s…it’s world beating shite, it’s better than anybody else’s plop.

Sure, they have mud in America, but it’s cigar chomping, ten gallon hat wearing, god fearing mud. They have mud in England but it’s supercilious, sarcastic upper crust mud or football lout mud. Whoa, I’m making a lot of friends here, who else can I offend? Our mud is the genuine article, richly textured, beautifully hued gack, full blooded with a faint whiff of cow shit and chocolate suggestions. Wait a minute, that’s wine, but you get the picture.

Where was I? Oh yes, the run. Well, it’s not as if it was a jaw droppingly unfamiliar landscape, it’s not like we were staring at a psychedelically tinged dreamscape featuring unicorns and figures with cowls and crooks. No, we had been there before, once or twice. But it had plenty of mud, and we got covered in the lovely slippery slop, couldn’t get enough of it. There were great views of the volcano rising through the clouds, lots of padi and inevitably the zoo, the hotel grounds and river running adjacent, all very pleasant, terima kasih banyak, selamat jalan.

The real reason we were there of course was to assist Monkey Balls in his favourite hobby, drinking Bintang, and it was his thirteenth birthday, no that was Balderdash in June . Shoot, it seems like only a few minutes ago we were helping him (Primate Testes) celebrate his last one. Time flies when you’re in a coma. Being his fortieth and all he naturally got involved in an ill advised jug drinking competition with a South African who looked as if he cold chug the jug, rip M.B’s ears off and shove them up his arse (Simian Knackers’ bum, that is, there would be little point in the alternative action, but you never know) before you could say begorrah. Nobody won fortunately.

Anyhow, it was all beer and skittles, and quite the entertaining circle what with Jangle balls and the two mop tops, Spook and Organ Grinder performing Hash band the Dung Beatles’ “Get Pissed and Shout”, “I Wanna Hold Your Glands”, Dancing Queen’s (surprise!) gay joke and Comes Up’s spurting weapon of masturbation. Camaraderie was rampant, and to top it all off Wooden Eye did the disappearing trick, again. He’s getting good at it.

On on.

This week’s Limerick Corner is in honour of an unfortunate sighting on a Seminyak beach:

There was a young man from Brazil

Whose dress sense was terminally ill

He wore next to fuck all

Which showed off his tackle

And a scrap of Lycra ‘round his pills

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Run #1043
Hares: Gordon Beu, Hole in One and Anonymous
Site: Not at Tunon

January 2012 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Slip Slidin’ Away

If anybody’s ancient enough as I am to remember that particular Paul Simon song it goes: “Ya know the nearer your destination the more ya slip slidin’ away”, which pretty much defines the run at Puri Damai, Tunon on Saturday (actually it wasn't at Tuno,n it was up the road). Holy Crapoli was there mud, and moss, and slick, slime and dare I say scum, liberal lashings of it. Hashers were going down like flies, every so often a wailed expletive followed by splashes, ploppings, and mumbled curses through a mouthful of padi were to be heard.

I hate to say it, no I don’t, it was funny. A sepatu or two also vanished without trace, sucked down by the bog; one unfortunate soul completed half the circuit a la Nightjar, barefoot, but not deliberately. Serves her right for starting early, neh neh, neh neh neh.

It was a pretty dang good run all things considered, not that I’m about to consider them being the lazy bastard I am. Let’s just say it had all the ingredients. The views were quite spectacular, if you had the opportunity to stop intensely concentrating on four or five square feet of subek and muck in order to assure perpendicularity (rhymes with herpendicularity, a socially transmitted complaint). The ups and downs were mercifully gentle after last week’s wall scaling and elevator drops. What was particularly nice (shit, I used the word nice) were the waterway complexes and crossings thereof, a lot more viaducts and mini falls than usual, cool bananas!

A returned Wooden Eye rounded us up for circular activities and demonstrated what recent circles have been missing in terms of continuity and (what passes for) discipline on the hash. Virgins were duly relieved of their intactness etc. In a spectacular display of carrying out the Hash Commandment “So Shall He Be Shriven”, Arsehole for Short was severely iced for an inappropriately ageist “grandfather” remark, tsk, tsk. We can’t have that, and we didn’t. HHH2 is heavily weighted with those not exactly in the first flower of their youth, or hadn’t he noticed.

Anyway, up we pissed it, and then off. On on.

It gives me great pleasure to announce a new addition to the Trash, folks. Yesiree, welcome to “Limerick Corner” wherein every week an original or not limerick will be presented for your enjoyment, or not. Feel free to post one of your own in the comments section if you don’t like mine, or not. This one’s not original but I like it any old how:

There was a young man from Australia

Who painted his arse like a dahlia

The colors were true, red, white and blue

The fragrance a total failure.

Wait a minute! This is HHH2, maybe he should be a middle aged man.

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Run #1042
Hares: Vingt Cinq and Petrified Walrus Penis
Site: Pakudui, Tegallalang

January 2012 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Mud Surfing in Bali

As you all know there many world class surf spots on the Island of the Dogs, but few have heard of that super secret spot Tegallalang. All that’s changed since yesterday when about fifty intrepid dudes, dudettes and grommets rode the wild mud, performing radical cutbacks, executing boogie board type barrel rolls without boogie boards and generally waving our arms around like Italian motorists in desperate and sometimes futile attempts to stay upright. Ciao!

Yes, the word’s out now. There’ll be hordes of mud surfers with their bums strapped to the roofs of Kijangs or on a rack on the side of a Yamaha in convoy along that famed handicraft highway.

Vingt Cinq and the indefatigable Petrified Walrus Penis (now there’s a phrase that is rarely used in written English) put us through our paces and gave us a hell of a run for our money through possibly the most scenically beautiful rice paddies anywhere on God’s green earth. It’s a remarkably attractive area, let’s hope it stays that way. There wasn’t that much garbage to wade through. We had giant bamboo stands, huge trees, pleasantly trickling and rushing water to remind us of our basically basah state.

Now listen up you lot! Today we have two runs for you ...

Back at the beer truck it was not immediately apparent there would be a circle at all until Bali’s loudest expat, St. Tits, startlingly bellowed instructions that we should reconvene at an adjacent grassed area. Now, all heartfelt thanks must go to those who tried valiantly to conduct the circle and carry out the usual order of business, Dancing Queen, Shitty dick and an incredulous Organ Grinder who refused to accept that the generally anemic half arsed affair was dribbling to a close with inaudible announcements and hashers wandering aimlessly in and out of the circle centre. He announced the birthday of brother Spook (not Brother Spook in a monastic sense, his actual brother) in the only interesting and relevant down down event of the day.

Wooden Eye, God speed!

By the way, who was the pedophile dressed like a Samurai nun who told jokes based on the fact that he seemed to all intents and purposes be a pedophile? Just some pedophile, I guess.

Verdict: great run, thanks hares, good piss up too.

On on.

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Run #1041
Hares: Pearl Necklace, Long and Strong
Site: Sukawati

“The Perplexing Case of the Disappearing Hash Master” (in which Holmes, Watson and the HHH2 Irregulars comprehensively lose the afforementioned personage.)

So, where is he then? We’ve looked down the back of the sofa but only found a couple of left over Christmas guests. Under the sink, no, with the car keys, no. Speculation was rife at Sukawati on the New Year’s Eve Hash. Rumours and tales abounded, conspiracies that included Elvis, Darth Vader and Kim Il Jong (notice how he and the vanished H.M. both disappeared at around the same time, coincidence? Ha!)

There was of course a much more unlikely explanation that his visa people had horrendously screwed up and left him hanging out to dry a ridiculous amount of time overstayed, but I don’t believe it for a second. That would never happen in Bali, harrumph!

Wherever you are, Wooden Eye, good luck and all the hairy breast for the new year from BHHH2, two! We had a beer for you. Just the one.

As far as the run went, which wasn’t terribly far, hares Long and Strong and Pearl Necklace pulled one out of the party hat and gave us quite a good ‘un, considering… Okay, so it wasn’t Pejeng or Sobangan but that was why it was arrestingly novel.

We always have Pejeng or Sobongan. This was Sukawati and it had some quite good jungley bits, concrete steps, subec, padis, and checkbacks thank you very much.

Spare a thought for those who didn’t read the hash map closely enough or left it home or both, in other words me, and showed up at the time the hash has started at for 30 years, i.e. 4.30 p.m. not 4.00.

When pressed on this issue Long and Strong enigmatically replied “Oh well, It’s one of those days”. Which ones? The tropical equinox? Was this an attempt to introduce daylight savings to Sukawati?

The short was a tad short in the same sense that the universe is a tad spacious, but it was just as well as some of us had started 30 minutes late through no fault of our own, not that I want to dwell on it.

The circle was a moist affair, hashers huddling under brollies and wearing hats in the circle. And if you think exceptions were made because of the weather then you probably have a muddy, beery, hash shoe imprinted hat.

Comes up conducted events admirably in W. E.’s absence, but his threatened squirts lost a bit of their juice under the drizzly circumcisions, whoops.

It was left to a Christmasified Jangle Balls to lead the choir in an unfortunately truncated rendition of “And so that was Christmas” cut short by an over excited Floral Shit who should not have been allowed to stay up so late on New Year’s Eve (6.30, not that I’ll dwell on it).

All’s well that ends well, and so it was with the last hash of 2011, another merry, pissy close to another Hash year.

On on in 2012, let’s hope the Mayans are wrong, which they probably are but they were bloody good hashers anyway.

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Run #1036
Hares: Pig Fucker
Site: Sobangan

November 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Quick, Quick, close the boot!

The run at Sobongon this Saturday was fantastically well signposted if you managed to intuit that you had to turn left at the police station in Blahkiuh. If you didn’t and kept heading north, you are probably now on the outskirts of Ho Chi Minh city scouring the streets for that comforting red and white sign on the left.

This one had all the hallmarks of a total balls-up for a start, what with the unorthodox parking “arrangements”. It actually turned out a pretty damn good hash in the end.

It began as a pleasant stroll in the countryside, and because there wasn’t that much to demand one’s visual or aural attention, I listened to various hashers in conversation. I’m not taking the piss here, but I always find exchanges in Dutch like listening to English, but in total gibberish. This is what I swear I heard two Dutch people say:

Dutch person 1: “I just got back from rotten rehab.”

Dutch person 2: “ Atomic nun with a stillborn camera.”

Dutch person 1: “Bitter stool bin?”

Dutch person 2: “Ya ya, Stephen Hawking.”

Dutch person 1: “Hobbledy hobbledy hop hop hop.”

Dutch person 2: “I stuck him in the boot.”

Dutch person 1: “Quick, quick, close the boot.”

Dutch person 2: “Are you a sexy mouse hole?”

Rather than falling on the ground pissing myself, which I decided wouldn’t have gone over that well, I caught up with some Americans. Now I am taking the piss. Some of our seppo cousins, as we know, talk for the sake of talking. In several U.S. states conversational pauses are punishable by lethal injection:

American 1: “Hey, there’s my gal! We don’t catch up with each other twice on every run.”

American 2: “No, we don’t, what a guy, huh!”

American 3: “ Hey, is this a long short or a short long? Hahahahahahaha.”

American 2: “Thank God for that breeze, huh?”

American 1: “Oh yeah, gotta have that breeze.”

American 3: “ Gotta have it, gotta have the breeze.”

Before my head exploded and left bits of brain and ears festooning the greenery, I accelerated to a couple of Aussies whose exchanges were altogether more laconic.

Aussie 1: “Hot, mate.”

Aussie 2: “Fuckin’, hot mate.”

Suddenly an amazingly steep river valley clothed in massive trees on either side hove into view; we ran alongside gaping at it for a good 10 minutes. I allowed myself a “Wow!” or two to nobody in particular, and suspected this was the point of the whole run. But there was more…

Down, across tinkling streams and up again we went, and again. The second on-down was a drop dead quaint mossy and susu filled dale, fabulous! Fun Bag Glen.

The Circle: In any western country what we do at this time of a Saturday would be insanely illegal. Shouting bawdy obscene ditties and drinking like Huns outside places of worship would inevitably lead to some nazi constabulary frog marching us in chains to some form of incarceration or other. I mean can you imagine icing a half pissed hasher and singing about the current state of his sphincter outside the Church of the Latter Day Saints in Spotweld, Ohio? Or pulling the pants off an inebriated Frenchman on the common opposite St. Nigel’s in Great Stuttering, Shipshapeshire, England? I didn’t think so.

The Balinese are an astoundingly, spectacularly tolerant breed of folk. I’m usually flabbergasted at how welcomingly liberal they are. Saturday night left me scratching a bemused head after we were told by a local to keep it down because we were keeping the cows awake in a nearby beef battery, huh? The cows? Are you sure? Oh well… great run, excrement fun.

On on!

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Run #1035
Hares: Whitebait and Creepy
Site: Pantai Sabah

November 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Hot as a Wharfy’s Armpit (In the Heat of the Night)

As you all know it’s been so bloody humid lately you could take the goldfish out for a walk, especially down in the coastal badlands far from the cool mountain air. At Sabah beach on Saturday at Whitebait and offspring Creepy’s run, though I won’t mention any names, you could have taken your pet giant squid for a stroll. Mr. Christ, it was humid, and friggin’ hot and we sweated like children born out of wedlock , or rapists. Did I mention the humidity?

After a mercifully short drive (from where I was anyway) and remember who set the run, though they shall remain nameless other than to say they are penduduks of a certain seaside suburb not wildly far from the aforementioned pantai, we set off down the black sand and immediately became embroiled in a raging but short lived controversy over whether the paper may have been set at low tide ignoring the possibility of a higher one.

Shoot! It’s too hot for sentences that long, I’m buggered already. I think I’ll go and have a beer.

I’m back (burp). Anyway, we kind of ran around in circles for a while, drat those fiendish every - two - minute checkbacks, under a highway overpass at one point in maybe a first for BHHH2. Truth be told, it probably would have been a fantastic hash anywhere else in the world, say the Hamersley, Fremantle or Rockingham City, Kuwait perhaps. It was nice and green and flat and a bunch of high grass was involved. There were flowers and trees and an ocean, I believe the Bandung Straits part of the Indian. Nobody complained, why would you? We struggled to stay conscious and on our feet, crossed Jalan Professor Doctor Anak Agung Ida Bagus Mangos In Season Watchamacallit at risk to life and limb, found the beer truck and immediately osmoted gallons of the life giving stuff.

We circled up under the watchful eye of the U.S. navy who were anchored offshore monitoring our every down down and gauging the potential threat of suicide jihad ice sitters and explosive burps.

Comes Up once again conducted festivities and Juggled a very ambitious array of events including dolphin fellatio, dart throwing, administering alcohol to overage primates etc., a program so comprehensively Barnum - and - Bailey - beating that most of us utterly forgot, with the passage of time, why we were, or what we were doing in the circle.

The Ringmaster, various animals and somebody who looked a lot like Bob Hoskins or Danny DeVito finally wilted in the devilish heat of the night. A manic and quite possibly inebriated Jangle Balls succumbing to the heat in a more crazed fashion, assaulted the crowd with a medley of famous Hash band The Rolling Drunk’s greatest hits e.g. “ I Can’t Get No Hashisfaction”.
I suppose it had to come to this. There was a second wind, so to speak, Wooden Eye led us in urinating on people’s sombreros and Bob – Danny gave us a warble or two.

Then we all pissed off to the Sanur Village Fest and drank Dancing Queen’s stall dry. It was yust next door to “Flapyacks”, honest, ask him.

Good run, good fun, on on.

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Run #1034
Hares: Vingt Cinq
Site: Yaysan Senag Hati, Tampak Siring

November 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

The Curse of The Short Stranded Paper

NOTICE TO HARES: PLEASE, WE BESEECH YOU, NO MORE SHORT STRANDED PAPER, USE THE LONG STRANDED VARIETY. THE SHORT STRANDED STUFF WASHES AWAY IN THE RAIN CAUSING US TO GET LOST AND SHOUT OBSCENITIES AT PADI FIELDS AND COWS CONCERNING THE LEGITIMACY OF YOUR BIRTHS AND THE TRAJECTORIES OF YOUR MOTHERS’ CAREERS.

Once again this week hashers were on all fours minutely examining plastic hessian binders, grains of rice, molecules of anything vaguely resembling material that might be construed as paper, or at least whiteness.

Also please hares, if you are going to use spray paint, we implore you to use clear, large, easily read characters. Yet again a valuable clue was lost, this week the letter “S” next to the letter “l” which would have changed everything. A dozen or so poor wretches were diverted onto the long going in the wrong direction resulting in a confused jungle collision of sweaty long runners and befuddled shorters shouting and gesticulating in several languages.

It’s certain that this week’s hares had nothing but good intentions to set a beautiful and slightly challenging trail, which they largely did. There was some astounding scenery and deep canopied jungle sections alongside gurgling streams. One of these claimed a gurgling St Tits as he sunk beneath the surface in a particularly graceful double back flip and twirl dive into the sungai. It was a thing of beauty and it must be said that it still didn’t interrupt his constant, admirable flow of high decibel address.

As last week, many of us simply gave up, erred on the side of caution and took the path of least resistance to the beer truck, asking locals directions to the Yayasan Senang Hati along the jalan, what a pity.

This week’s circle was largely the Adam Aqua (Comes Up) Show, who stepped in for an ailing Wooden Eye, kept us chortling along to beer snorkeling, monkey mask drinking events, and under control with his fearsome spurting weapon. The man seems mighty partial to anything involving liquid.

A couple of coconuts dropped from a very tall and gravid tree narrowly missing a harriet, but being Bali hashers this is the sort of thing up with which we must put, so we bravely soldiered on until the very last amber droplet vanished. The beer truck drove forlornly away, after which, off we pissed.

On on.

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Run #1033
Hares: Drunken Bastard, Gizzard, Mt Antik
Site: Petang Market,

November 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Trackers and Crackers

In old Australian movies “blacktrackers” (in these enlightened days no doubt “traditional owner person locaters”) whose names were always Jackie, were called in to trace the runaway bush child or the miscreant on the run. Jackie was the kind of bloke who could look at a twig, put his ear to the ground and report to the outback policeman mounted on his steed: “Boss, bloody bad bugger, him drinkin’ a Fosters at front bar of Nah Nah Goon Hotel”. We could have done with a Jackie or two on Saturday’s run from pasar Petang.

He would have been handy behind the wheel of a Taruna for a start just finding the place. Who Knows? There may have been a Biblical deluge after the trail had been laid, but paper was virtually non – existent. The Hubble telescope couldn’t have found any.

It was truly a case of the blind leading the blind. At one point, I and another poor wretch were hunched on the jungle floor like C.S.I. cast members trying to determine whether the white stuff we were studying minutely was paper or rice. Some other forensic hashers caught up with us and put forth their theories: “This is another Hash’s paper”, “Wait, there’s an arrow here that says ‘No’.” “No it doesn’t it says ‘On’ if you look at it upside down, you stupid bastard.” “I reckon we’re running the trail backwards”. “Where the fuck is Jackie?”

As it turned out we were indeed running the trail backwards, or part of it, but at that point nobody gave a shit about anything but the beer truck.

Needless to say, I can’t comment on the scenery as I mostly didn’t see anything but the ground. The mountain views were majestic enough. I believe I saw padi mud and jungle mud, both very attractive types of mud in their own way.

Back at the site there was action aplenty with fireworks being shot into the afternoon sky, circles being formed, blond female Greeks being auctioned off by visiting concerned Euro Zone member, Col. Bloodvessel, to aid the ailing Hellenic economy (one of them went for 34 rabbits and another for two goats and a gerbil), blondes being iced and down downed, Pope jokes, cow jokes, gallons of gaiety, when (play “2001, A Space Odyssey” music) … Well, let’s just say there was a confluence of events featuring a Hasher who was having a very good day, a kampong Klion who seemed to be having a very bad one, and some fireworks.

It culminated in everyone pissing more quickly than usual in the direction of off before the angry torch and pitchfork bearing villagers arrived with tubs of boiling Blue Band.

On, cepat, on.

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Run #1032
Hares: Hares: Jorok, Oxy and Bemo
Site: Bongkasa,

October 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Invasion of the Circle Snatchers

You’ve gotta love the name “Bonkasa”. It’s a great name, isn’t it? Exotic, romantic, especially when you break it into three parts, i.e. “bonk”, “arse”, “her”. You dirty buggers, I was thinking no such thing, never crossed my mind.

Jorok and co. led us on a merry chase from the Pura Dalem Bonkasa across the Ayung and up the valley into more your Ubud territory, down the Stairway to Heaven (or Hell for those of more mature years) to some of the most arresting views in Hashdom, and back across the river again, good challenging, scenic, mucky stuff.

Old Father Ayung was flowing quite energetically and we nearly lost a few (only a few) of our visiting Aussie Hashers that weren’t assisted in their crossing by sheer bulk; but that’s okay there were plenty more where they came from, groaning busloads of the bastards.

It was a case of spot the Bali hasher in the circle. There were more high – vis size xxl spandex tights and tees than you could shake a golden wattle at (hi - vis clothing is now mandatory in Australia along with obesity, goatees and mullets, and that’s just for the women – Julia Gillard is required by law to wear bright red jackets and matching ridiculous hair).

To be fair they were a jolly and enthusiastic lot, as good hashers should be, full of puerile songs and worse jokes, but nowhere near as bad as HHH2 when we get up a head of Binnie fueled steam. They enthusiastically took over the circle, installed a pro consul Hash Mistress, an incredibly annoying woman with a Klaxon horn, possibly the only horn she’d ever held, and populated the proceedings with other Aussie hashers.

They seemed to be having a good time so we let them have at it, even helped. There was beer snorkeling and pie eating events, general fun and hilarity, then as quickly as they appeared they jumped into their buses and pissed entirely off.

A clutch of regulars stayed on to suck the last dregs, but most had gone at that point to wherever we go when we get that usurped feeling, another great run but a surfeit of fun, tsk, tsk.

On, on.

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Run #1031
Date: 22nd October 2011
Hares: Sex on the Desk and Captain Pugwash
Site: Pura Penarungan

October 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Who’s got short shorts?

We do indeed have some ridiculously short shorts, look at Mud flaps for example, but I was referring to the run at Pungutan on Saturday taking off from Pura Dalem whatever. Ah, what a pleasant amble it was, how Constable – like the scenery with its ready to harvest rice, how dry the hash shoes if you were careful, how swift the appearance of the beer truck and its charms, how much more time to stand around drinking piss and bullshitting in the sunset tinged countryside, how serenely, meditatively uneventful the whole deal was. Who’s complaining? Not me, but it does make writing the Trash a little tricky.

So anyway, umm, er, a circle wafted together in ethereally slow motion. Comes Up and his spurting weapon were unleashed on the crowd which livened things up microscopically. Virgins were sacrificed and, in a first for the Hash, visiting Hamersley Hashers sung their Hashional Anthem and drank down downs WITH THEIR HATS ON, EEK! What happened? How was this travesty, this atrocity, allowed to be perpetrated, in the holy sanctum of the HHH2 circle? Is nothing sacred? Jupiter!

Banana Bender from the wilds of the Gold Coast showed up unannounced, and Shitty Minje’s “life partner’’ was christened “Shitty Dick” even though his name is not Richard, hmm, what can it mean?

Weird Jangle Ballsovich tried to resuscitate languid events with “Loud Hairy”, hash version of “Proud Mary”, but fucked up his lines. Dancing Queen, treasure trove of strange and funny jokes came up with another jewel. Little Johnny made a familiar appearance incarnated as St. Tits, all very déjà vu, the oldies are the goodies. No pun intended but it petered out.

Suddenly, if you could say there was anything sudden about this week, the piss ran out and we drifted, rather than pissed, off.

On kind of on

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Run 1,030
Hares: Jack Shit, Trender Bender and Gender Blender
Site: Sembuwuk Badminton Court, Sanding

October 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

You All know Jack Shit

He's Dutch, he makes a mean pie, he runs, he runs a bar, he's somewhere between the ages of 45 and 62, but what do I know? (Jack Shit to be exact), he's a good bloke and he set a pretty good dang run on his birthday bash on Saturday at the Pejeng badminton court. Well that's about it, see you next week, but seriously folks, it was a very pleasant afternoon all round except for those who didn't make it back at all and had to sleep in a cow shed or the bottom of a river.

Let's just say playing The Eagles "The Long Run" on the way to the site proved to be eerily prescient (Twilight Zone music: nee nee noo noo nee nee noo noo). The hares were either on Amsterdam time or were trying to outdo last week's lengthy performance. I believe we may have passed through Antwerp at one point.

Never mind the bollocks; it had its moments (plenty of them, more than advertised). Yours Truly was personally involved in an almost fatal incident, I tell you, in which a hasher who may or may not know who he is, let out a deafening bellow a centimeter away from the back of Yours Truly's head (okay, two centimeters) while Y.T. was delicately balanced on a concrete berm causing Y.T. to elaborately shit himself and fall into the subec on the lucky side of a 50 foot drop. It was actually funny at the time or maybe I was hysterical with relief. I haven't had so much fun since Auntie Edna died.

Then there was the German lady who somebody brought along and comprehensively failed to explain the most fundamental fact about the H.H.H. The poor woman had not the faintest idea where, perhaps even who she was or what she was meant to be doing.

Unless early Alzheimer's had set in she had been told utterly fuck all. "Vhy are Ve to runningk?" she beseeched me. "Vhat doing am I vhen dark and no lamplight?" , she implored. "Follow us", we advised her, though that was no guarantee of success. "Nein danker", she replied somewhat unexpectedly and made off to the dubious safety of the Jalan Raya, though not before asking "How longk is an hour?" we had no answer.

A circle was loosely arranged. Jack the birthday Shit suffered four down downs (in the interest of journalistic precision), before pissing off with his back teeth underwater. The return of The Dude was announced, who proceeded to dude the virgins and level dude charges at, as it absurdly happens, the runningk hausfrau who had miraculously found her way back to the site.

A brazen attempt was made by two Harriets to remove the Hash Master's shorts, perhaps they were electricians. Either the eye was not amused or he was tickled pink, hard to tell. The result was the same, they wound up going the cold hole route.

Dancing queen told, guess what? That's right, a gay related joke and the Song Master, Wierd Al Jangle Ballsovich did "Check Back" by the Dung Beatles (a hash band) featuring Blow Joe, Organ Grinder and an absent Mud Flaps.

We had way too much fun for our ages and put ourselves to bed.
Great stuff,
on-on.

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Run 1,029
Hare: The Babi Gulings
Site: Pura Ukur Ukur, Pejeng

October 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Raiders of the Temple of Doom

The Babi Gulings pulled out a real cracker this Saturday at Puri Ukur Ukur in Pejeng known to many hashers as The Temple of Doom. This run was as adventurous, scenic and thrilling as any Indiana Jones movie plus about half an hour longer (ahem). We ran and scrambled through incredible river, valley and jungle scenery. We mud surfed on our arses inches from sheer drops as if the evil (Hash) Nazis were hot on our trail. No stopping for breathers on the 300 step (I counted them) Stairway of Misery and on to the Village of Exhaustion. The Mad Kali Death Cultists (long runners) were breathing down our necks with hideous intentions (Passing!).

We puzzled urgently over the meaning of esoteric hieroglyphics laid in paper. "What can it mean, Dr. Jones?" "Well, at a certain time of day the sun shines through that bamboo stand right onto this paper that is fashioned in ancient Gaelic script and says "cows''. "But what can it mean Dr. Jones?" "Fucked if I know, cows, I guess". "Thank you Dr. Jones, you have saved the day once again, what about this one that says "Shoooo… something?"

Cue Indiana Jones music, da da da da, da da DAAA. Da da da da, da da da da DAAA. On we climbed, slipped and staggered, at one high point we were literally in the clouds that wafted through the valley, brilliant! Jungle clad valley walls rose impossibly high on either side of the river. Shit, did we just climb down there? Shit, do we have to go up there? We had babbling brooks, ranting rivulets and raving streams, laughing waterfalls that pissed themselves from on high, excellent!

We got to the end of the movie and the good guys won, more or less. A muddy circle was conducted by Monkey Balls and Goes up who came down on talkers with his liquid filled instrument. jollity, camaraderie and piss were abundant until it wasn't.

Here are some extracts from the next exciting installment starring "Holland" Jack Shit: "Are you?", "Checking", "ON ON!"

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Run 1,028
Hare: Petrified Walrus Penis, Virtual Erection
Site: Pura Dalem Pengali

October 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe

Form a Trapezium

Another fantastic run on Saturday at Pura Dalem Pengali brought to you through the good offices of Messrs.’ P. W. Penis and V. Erection, thanks phallus, I mean fellas. There was an almost medieval flavour to this one what with burning torches and candles on muddy cave walls and heart – in – mouth river crossings on dubious foot bridges suspended above rushing rivers, great stuff!

I wouldn’t have been too shocked to come across Robin Hood’s encampment with Friar Tuck in tight jeans on a sepeda motor with a hand phone. Come to think of it, maybe that was how the Hash started, a bunch of piss heads running around in the forest dressed weirdly and giving each other down downs and silly names, generally being merry and looking for susu in the 15th Century.

Sometimes, one does get that mossy, feudal, Middle Ages vibe about Bali’s nether regions, so to speak. Maybe it’s because it seems like you’ve been running since the 14th Century to get to the beer truck. Anyhow, it was a great run and far enough away from the cares and woes of civilization to forget what century we’re currently obliged to suffer. The Bali Hash (Two!) does that.

The circle this week however was anything but a circle. It started out with the best of intentions, virgins were compromised, returning Sarth Efrican Yarpie Hasher, Winnie (Mandela – get it?), got the worst of it after his four year absence in India. Maybe ageing and hard of hearing hashers had heard the R.A. announce the following: “Form a rhomboid or a parallelogram or a turtle or a mongoose, a trombone will do”. It was all over the shop, contracting, expanding, and cellularly dividing. Mini and sub circles formed and de – formed, Holy Toledo what a cocking shock up.

Never mind, everyone involved or otherwise seemed to have feaps of hun and sitties were dung about Chresus Jist and why he hoesn’t dash (he’s got foles in his heet). It was all foody blood gun, really. (Damn, I should have worked in a Spoonerism of Friar Tuck, wait, I almost just did). We prank all the diss and ucked foff. Next week we’ll goo it all over adain.

No no.
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Run 1,027
Hare: Bird Balls, Gudang
Site: Gunung Kawi Sebatu, Tampax Earring

September 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

God Dang, Gudang!

Stop the presses, hold the weddin’, alert the media, call the Sheriff! We may have a winner, unless somebody comes up with a better run than the one we just had at Gunung Kawi Sebatu on Saturday. Words fail me, again, but probably not for long ‘cause I’m such a windbag. You know how certain people, whose nationality shall remain obvious, constantly abuse the word “awesome”, well this run deserves the term in all its flatulently overblown and threadbare glory. It really was an awesome run in the original sense of being full of awe, not full of what the abusers of the term are, whoopsie, off paper.

There was so much scenery: dells, glades, waterfalls, forests of (was it acacia trees?), rivers, padis, valleys blah blah, stop me that my head almost exploded. I haven’t even mentioned temples and Susu, yes I have. I can only say “vundabah” or whatever it is they say wherever it is that Gudang comes from. And everybody seemed to agree.

Free sandwiches after the run were followed by an excellent choccie cake and tee shirts to mark the 40th day after Uncle Leong’s departure from this vale of tears. A round thing was formed and Silly Buggers were played. Especially Silly buggers were performed by St. Tits, who was told to shut up then told to tell a joke, both of which he kind of did, and Jangle Balls who resurrected Elvis (again) with “New Hash Shoes”. Several new hash shoe wearers were implicated and therefore executed.

It was a long drive home, in fact I rented out my house for the occasion, so we all pissed off early which was just as well because by the time we got back it was time to move into aged care facilities.

Ha!

On, on.

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Run 1,026
Hare: Broken Hole, Todger
Site: Pura Dalem Cangaan, Pejeng

September 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

Monkey’s Muddled Meander.

There were more obstacles in getting to the run at Pura Dalem Cangaan in Pejeng on Saturday than anything encountered on the run. There was the usual stand - up comedy performance by the polisi at the crossroad lights of the bypass and Jalan Raya Tohpati. They barricaded the right turn and naturally everybody turned back at the next putar on Gatot Subroto about 25 meters up the street. The whole plan, whatever it was, of course, rendered pointless but incurred 15 minutes of screaming, cursing and purple apoplepsy on the part of a certain driver. A huge truck jam nearer the site almost finished him off in terms of cardiac arrest.

Next time he’s taking Jalan Professor Doctor Anak Agung Ida Bagus F’tang F’tang Biscuit Barrel Rock and Roll Mango.

The run was a completely different story altogether (kind of). It was bloody interesting, running through almost invisible graves, up huge flagstone steps then around and around and around the garden like a teddy bear (or a monkey bear). There were plenty of nice jungley bits, lovely green terraced padi views and some children wearing black and red uniforms, Segi Tiga cement bags on their backs, cans of rocks around their waists and blue coolie hats with paper sticking out of them (??). They looked like a cross between the Red Guards and the Wizard of Oz characters, WTF??? Bali factor…

It was a bit light on in the departmen kertas and there was a lot of head scratching while rotating 360°. The long river section was especially confusing with hashers abandoning the whole thing and streaming up the valleys looking for non- existent paper. There was the odd strand hidden on the riverside perfectly evident to those with X-ray vision. Never mind say what you like, you mean old Hash Trasher me, it was a good run.

Circular action ensued, well it was more of an oblong this week that turned into a rectangle. Chants went up to ice the monkey for failing to get the hash sheet out until 8pm on Friday night. “Frost the primate, chill the chimp” they yelled, but he got away with it, testicles at room temperature. Co - hares Broken Hole and the yet to be named Penile Delinquent or Grievous Bodily Function etc. were given their just desserts. Virgins, visitors were dealt with and Little Johnny was channeled by three separate mediums. Speaking of channeling, the hugest hasher of them all, Elvis was channeled by Song Master, J.Balls, who had the crowd (what there was of it this week) rockin’ to “New Hash Shoes” (uh, uh, uh) and closed it down with “It don’t have a Wooden Eye” in reference to the Hash Master’s (ahem) “pursuits”.

We drank the beer truck out of house and home and off was the direction in which we pissed to wherever we piss off to after the hash.

On, on!

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Run 1,025
Hare: Mustafa Shite, Barnacle Balls
Site: Sembuwuk, Pejeng

September 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

Supersize My Pejeng.

Your what?

There was nothing pocket sized about the run at Sumbuwuk in Pejeng on Saturday. The car park was the size of a small Central American republic, perhaps El Salvador. A banyan tree the size of a nuclear explosion stood adjacent a Pura you could have fit Sanur into, and two massive wantilans completed the ensemble. The view from the car park alone stretched as far as the eye could see. This was big sky country, Bali style, and if I’m exaggerating, then, I do that.

First things second, the run was a gem and congratters to hares, Messrs B. Balls and M. Shite, for making it two in a row.

Under starter’s orders we were informed by a certain Irish hare, shameless Seamus, who shall remain nameless, (it was himself above) that there would be no ups and downs and that it was pretty flat. We promptly spent the next half hour descending valleys and climbing gorges, wheezing like steam trains and clutching our hearts, some of these were none too small either (valleys and gorges, not hearts).

There were some decent sized waterfalls followed by bloody big bamboo stands, and then came the valley of the giant ferns. The hares too, seemed infected by this reverse Gulliver syndrome; there were drifts of paper on which long distance skiing events could have been conducted. Stevie wonder would have easily found his way back to the beer truck.

There was PLENTY of room for the circle. We bellowed at one another across the vast wastes between one point on the circumference and another as if searching for lost children in a cave. Songs were shouted at hares and virgins, the Song Master all but collapsed from the effort of screaming the National Anthem at barely comprehending hashers. We strained to hear Nightjar’s delivery, which had us in the usual fits when we caught snatches (ahem) of it on the breeze.

We gargled the very final glass of piss, stumbled around for a while and drove home. How the bloody hell do we get home anyway? I don’t remember. It was a big day all round, a BIG DAY.

On on.

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Run 1,024
Hare: Organ Grinder, Spook
Site: Abing Terrace, Tegallalang

August 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

Cool Runnings… or, Son of the Return of the Bride of the Planet of the Attack of the Killer Bees!!

Just when you think all is lost and you have to write articles trashing the trash on the Hash in the Hash Trash (huh?), you get a run like this. An unmitigated corker, a ripper and a snorter, a snifter, a ball tearer in every sense, if any, of the words, it was. Yes indeedy folks, if you missed the run on Saturday from the Abing Resort in Kebon Tegallalang, my heart bleeds for you or at least my piles do (it was also a bit of a tough run).

Words will fall short, superlatives will run out, there they go now, come back here you cowardly superlatives. Even on the drive in Hashers were wowing and hooly – doolying. Drivers (none who shall be named specifically) were taking no notice of the road whatsoever, and the view was even better once we crawled from the wreckage.

What can I say? Terraced emerald padis plunged into gorgeously overgrown valleys. Giant bamboo stands tussled with jurassically sized trees and ferns etc. etc. There was that one magic point you get in the best Hashes when padis, palms and trees stretch as far as the eye can see and, except for the bird scaring plastic strips snapping in the breeze, it could have been 200 or 1,000 years ago, bloody marvelous!

Everything was proceeding just duckily, including the dreaded Bridge under the River Kwai cave which everyone would have enjoyed immensely if they hadn’t actually been shitting themselves. Then, (cue scary music from the pre – Stabbing shower scene in “Psycho’’) they struck! (Play ee, ee, ee, ee, music from stabbing shower scene in “Psycho”). The giant killer hornets, wasps, bees, things with stings, whatever, scored pin point attacks on several unfortunate wretches.

Here is a breakdown of the damage done and upon whose person it was visited: Long Dong Silver, direct hit in the back, Mudflaps: right cheek of the arse (several Harriers bravely offered to remove the poison orally, but unfortunately she died rather than have the dirty bastards sucking on her butt), Balderdash seemed to get the worst of it: head, neck, bum and finger. It was touching to see the Chinese guys and Balinese ladies fussing over the poor little blighter with their herbal cures and potions and thanks to them, he survived, but alas without his beloved Frankenhat.

We circled the wagons and gave the bookend Hares, Organ Grinder and Spook, a well deserved drink, more Hash hymens were broken (there must be a virgin factory somewhere). Jangle Balls semi - led us through a semi - recital of the semi – National Anthem and Wooden Eye retaliated by having his sister Belinda piss on our sombreros, several times. Thirsty social drinking in the cool mountain air ensued until the last drop vanished down our greedy Hash gullets.

Brilliant, on on.

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Run 1,023
Hare: Seaman Stains
Site: Villa Bumi Linggah Batubulan

August 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

God’s Little Acre (of garbage)

We all know that God is a bit of a practical joker. What with giving capitalism to the Americans, bequeathing communism to the North Koreans and letting Muammar Gadaffi have his taste in hats and five hundred ways to spell his name, he must be rolling around up there pissing himself.

I sometimes wonder if he’s not having a little snicker about the results of his (God’s, not Col. Quadoofi’s) handiwork here in Bali. At the kampong garbage run in Kemenuh this Saturday, there it was in all its glory, unbelievable! What, can’t they see it? Have they all got garbage blindness? What do they talk about at that Banjar meeting? Has anybody seen any garbage around here?

One bloke was up to his knees in Sedap packets, Pop Mie cups, Silvikrin sachets and Marlboro packs polishing his Kijang. The astounding contrast between the stunningly beautiful countryside in the area and the grotesqueness of the drifts of trash everywhere has to be some kind of cosmic joke. Oh well, enough cultural insensitivity, naughty me.

Balletic forward roll and backward dive into the subec of the day goes to Worm who performed this difficult maneuver with Baryshnikov - like grace before announcing that he was “Just cooling off”. This was immediately before our entrance into the rubbery shrubbery of the pandana plantation – incredible, psychedelic even.

Circling up, Wooden Eye did most of the heavy lifting (just as well he’s got a new truck), defloration of virgins etc. New addition to our hash and one that’s making his presence felt, Dick the Wonder Boy (somebody ought to), he tells jokes, he plays guitar, he juggles rubber chickens on a unicycle, regaled us with a little Johnny joke which set off the Tukang Tinggi of all little Johnny jokes, St. Tits. He, naturally, was iced for his trouble.

Jangle Balls led us in a choral tribute to Uncle, was given (another) drink and wove out of the circle, perhaps forgetting his National anthem duties for reasons of perhaps insobriety. Social drinking continued in the balminess of the evening under the tall palms, as we all know, the best time of the week if you don’t count Auntie Edna’s call from home on Tuesday.

Hash sight of the night had to be the craziest of Dave’s on his knees holding onto the keg table as if he was praying to a small shrine, maybe he was. He could still be there judging by the amount of people who were busy ignoring this spectacle. Apparently he had conned some hippies into a ride by telling them the Hash was a tantric meditation meeting in the jungle. They seemed to be impressed by the amount of people and cars there for the event.

Anyway he got totally pissed on somebody’s rum, perhaps Dick the Wonder Boy’s, and lost the plot. The hippies were still hopelessly lost on the run in the dark at this point. If they ever made it back, It’s doubtful they would have been falling over themselves to give a paralytic C.D. a return journey, tantric meditation or no.

Happy birthday to hare Seaman Staines, who turned twenty one for the third time, and on on.

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Run 1,022
Hare: Tartar
Site: Villa Bumi Linggah Batubulan

August 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

Merdeka! Give me a pie!

As that famous hasher Julius Ceasar (what, you didn’t know?) said: “Veni, vidi, we ran, we drank a bunch of piss, we went home.” That was about the size of it.

There were several grumbles about the lack of views and the somewhat economical 45 minute length of the run. Yes, the Grand Canyon was conspicuously absent, Niagara Falls and Ayer’s Rock were nowhere to be seen, but hey! Time flies when you’re in a coma, and as that other famous hasher, Basil Fawlty of Fawlty Towers , scolded a complaining guest: “What do you expect to see outside a Torquay hotel window, herds of wilderbeest?’’

It was a hash, it was in Bali, how bad could it be? Okay, it was a bit hot and the padis were a bit browned out and scruffy looking, but padis and palm trees there were. The satay came in for a few barbs as well: “Where did they get that cow, Somalia?” Gristly, chewy and scrawny as it was, it was satay, in Indonesia, say no more.

The tee shirt distribution also had its detractors. I must admit, I was a bit nonplussed as I proffered my green ribbon when there were about 15 of us back from the run to be told “Nien, nyet, tidak, No tee shirt for you.” How did that work? I dunno, but I thought to myself: “Self, you’ve got about 400 of the bastards in your draw at home”. You might well ask why there are 400 bastards in my draw and… good question!

Anyhow, a circle was described and shenanigans began again therein. Guest hash master Labia quizzed a slew of ex – hash masters on Indonesian presidential factoids. This, of course, degenerated into gibberish and giggling but actually worked quite well and Labia seemed to enjoy himself. You might say it was a labia of love.

Nightjar delivered a moving eulogy to Uncle Leong and revealed a few things we didn’t know about the oldest hasher. Just as well we were pissed or there wouldn’t have been a dry eye in the circumference. There were a few lumps in throats, garunteed.

I guess the hit of the day were Jorok’s pies, distributed from the back of a truck like aid after a Bangladeshi flood, a rabble of well fed hashers acting like starving Haitians. “Merdeka! Give me a pie!”

And to all of us including those can’t afford to drink beer but do anyway, Cheers!

On on!
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Run 1,021
Hare: 69er, Ringtail and Filthy Slut
Site: Pura Hiyang Api, Desa Kelusa

August 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

Let the Good Times Roll

As the actress said to the bishop, it’s hard to put your finger on, but Saturday’s run at Kelusa in Payangan was outstanding (to extend the bishop metaphor) and straight up bloody good fun, for no single reason.

Was it the imposing and elaborately beautiful Pura overlooking an entertaining kid’s soccer game at the hash site? Was it the fantastic views on the gently undulating and forgiving runs? Was it the non - stop hilarity of the circle under a fat golden moon peeping above the palms? Who knows? Forgive me for waxing lyrical, but it was just one of those hashes when everything comes together and there just isn’t a better place to be, anywhere…

The drive in after turning off the Sayan road was arresting enough for a start, but deceptively up and down as it turned out. The immediate reaction among my fellow car occupants was “Oh shit, here we go", but they ate their words later, which didn’t taste so good.

The runs were chock full of misty jungle vistas and blindingly emerald padis, enough semi - dramatic drops to quicken the pulse but no grasping for twiggy hand holds on sheer cliff faces or desperately groping for a rock in the rapids, not that there’s anything wrong with that, ahem. It was just good to get away from the macho stuff, but perhaps one jadi tua.

The weather was perfect for it as well and as the moon rose we circled up in a non-sweaty format; not too many of us or too raucous, again, Goldilocks zone conditions. Johnny Lips, or Labia to his intimates, late of Legian more lately of Laos executed some introductions and hares. Colonel Bloodwurst was stellar, marrying Nigerians (who admitted to sending emails) and punishing anarchists in the U.K. for various looting crimes e.g. Organ Grinder and Spook for stealing hair dryers. Wooden Eye formed and deputised the Pussy Posse to water pistol - whip garrulous hashers. We’ve been warned!

Songs were sung, jokes told. Closet, sorry, Dancing Queen regaled us with yet another disgusting gay joke. Pants were predictably pulled down and penises exposed, yawn. Somebody should pull that particular Harriet’s own pants down, shove ‘em over her head, spin her around a couple of dozen times and make her sit on ice, but that’s just me. I used to levitate bats, but nobody cared either.

Never mind that, I can’t be more effusive about this run. When they send me to the last paper trail and I’m in Hash heaven, that’s one of the runs I want up there.

Are you?

On, on!

.
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Run 1,020
Hare: Multi Grip, Tartar and Parson's Nose
Site: Pura Dalem, Singapadu

August 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

Happy birthday to………?

We all gathered at a very familiar run site in Singapadu for Uncle Leong’s birthday. Everybody, that is, except Uncle Leong who was gathering himself at another location in a different country.

Most of us could do this run with our eyes closed. Judging by the amount of muddy arses at the beer truck, some of us did. It was a pleasant padi filled run, though, and we had beautiful breezy weather for it. There were three, or four river crossings and th-th-th-th-th-th-th-that’s all folks!

The circle was a truncated affair with half the hashers hugging the beer truck lovingly close to their breasts and the other half actually forming a circle. Some brightly feathered Guamian natives regaled us with bird song and had us in stitches; Jangle Balls was literally as he’d just been really stitched up at a Denpasar hospital.

He then took a turn for the worse in the circle with half a dozen national anthems and the Supremes, Mud Flaps and another Supreme. Monkey Balls got patriotic with his own national anthem. It was a battle of the Blands; the Guamians took the prize, whatever that was.

On-on for Uncle’s next birthday, which is next week.

Run 1,019
Hare: Closet Queen
Site: Canang Sari Cemetary,

30th July 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

To Bee or not to Bee

This week’s run at Canang Sari was more of an adventure than usual given the preponderance of swarms of angry and violent flying insects at the start of the run. Something or someone pissed them off and, honest it wasn’t me. But it could have been Organ Grinder considering the sustained attack under which he came. It was like Messerschmitts on a Lancaster over Berlin. He ran for his life flailing his arms around and managed to fling his wedding ring off his finger, much to the disappointment of Spank My Monkey.

Dancing Queen and the rest of Abba did a splendid job on this run. We were confronted by lots of frustrating check-backs and check-arounds however. After following the paper into a valley we were led out again into a decent-sized Kampong, and then back into another valley. Goes Up went up the wrong way and found himself having to go down the right way and then back up again to get to where he was. It was a smorgasbord of deep, dark valleys, dim jungle and nice green sawah, sangat bagus.

The circle was business as usual, returners returned, virgins were deflowered, achievers achieved, visitors visited. Kucit couldn’t taste his beer because of a bee sting to the ear. Who knows what other faculties were effected in this dyslexic manner. One wonders what it was he couldn’t do with his tongue.

The search for Organ Grinder’s ring was called off as he did have a spare one. Social drinking was called and a sudden downpour sent us scattering to our cars.
Good run, on on.
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Run 1,018, Bastille Day Run
Hare: Soixante Neuf et al (the froggies)
Site: Yayasan Senang Hati, Tampak Siring

26th July 2011 | By: The Scrutable Scribe.

Sacre Bleu!

Last week’s Bastille Day run at the Yayasan Senang Hati foundation was an excellent mixture of padis, gorges and kind of romantically dimmed tree lines, very appropriately French looking. Just before we set off the hares exclaimed in heavy French accents the short would be up and down like frogs legs and the long flatter than a plate of crepes; the long was, however, not as flat as our Gallic friends said it was; it was more like up and down like the Eiffel Tower. The run was very unique scenery wise and it was some of the best I’d ever seen on the Bali Hash House Harriers Two (DEUX, DUEX!).

Just before the end of the run we were welcomed back by some shirt wielding Frenchmen, the shirt had an ecstatic chicken pissing into a beer (pissing from his chest by the looks of it; see Facebook page, Gallic humour, we guess). After coming up the steps, grasping our baju baru we dawdled over to the beer truck where we were given a something unidentifiable and tomato sandwich (Yum!).

The circle was the climax of the run, featuring frog songs, frog jokes, frog men (not literally). Later into night Colonel Bloodnock attempted his French skills on some (believe it or not!) French people and tried some magic on the cast of Harry Potter. Night Jar regaled us with some other French songs and told French jokes as the circle tried, with all their might, to understand him.

All round the Run was a great one, Good job you amphibian bastards!

On-on!
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Run 10001/2: The Orgasm Run
Hares: Balderdash, Worm and Jangle Balls
Site: Bali Bird Park

March 22nd, 2011 | By: Spurious Spewing.

A wonderful end to a great weekend saw a good crowd at the Bird Park complements of our Bird Park hosts. Jangle Balls obviously had fun! The hares did a great job finding some more interesting running in a bland area. Slip it in got shriven for moving the paper and spoiling the checkbacks. Mr Bean got shriven for doing a bad job of pouring water and a good time was had by all.
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Run 1000: The Orgasm Run
Hares: Spook, Organ Grinder
Site: Manuaba

March 22nd, 2011 | By: Spurious Spewing.

Two great runs today and a large crowd with many international guests in the circle made a great day.
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Run 9991/2: The Foreplay Run
Hares: Monkey Balls, PWP
Site: Tegallalang

March 22nd, 2011 | By: Spurious Spewing.

The hares today did an excellent job today setting a classic run through stunning country. It was long and tough and Higgins and Kuntfu didn't get back until everyone had pissed off to the fly.
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Run 997: Welsh Day Run
Hares: Woodeneye, Colonel Bloodknock, St Tits and Virtual Erection
Site: Tegallalang

February 27th, 2011 | By: Spurious Spewing.

Another long run today especially the short, but a very good run in great country. We headed North along the Western edge of the valley then cut across East, across the valley and into the Southern end of Manuaba. From here we headed South through rice fields finally crossing back over the valley and up the main road to the site.

The Circle was fed with Bali Bakery curry pooftahs (yum yum) and the celtic entertainment began started by an Irish bastard and continued by 2 Welsh bastards and a couple of passing sheep.

Just when it appeared no one would go home the rain started to fall and everyone pissed off except for a few diehards who drowned at the barrel.

On on.
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Run 996: Suckit's Sawah Scamper
Hares: Suckit and his mates. Site: Blakiu

February 24th, 2011 | By: Spurious Spewing.

A long run today and a goodly number of hounds were well knackered with a run that took us North then West crossing a valley into territory we rarely see. The rice fields were like a maze today with the paper doubtfully taking us zig zagging all over the place.

On on.
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Run 995: Valentine's Day Run
Hares: Shagaholic, Virtual Orgasm, Arse Licker, Virtual Erection

February 16th, 2011 | By: Spurious Spewing.

A good long run today and well set by a bunch of unmentionables. The site was to the South of Payangan. We headed North East into good country, then West across the main road and headed down through rice fields and home. Great run, well done.

Our numbers are growing and it wasn't helped by the girlies in their frocks. Backs to the wall lads - some of them looked a bit too convincing to me.

On on.
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Run 991: Pig Fucker's Frolick
Hares: Pig Fucker et al, Site: Sobangan

January 19th, 2011 | By: Spurious Spewing.

A missleadingly long run today that headed up a road North from the site on the Northern side of Sobangan. The run headed North for about 3 kilometres, then East before heading back south and coming in next to the big mandy spot at the Sobangan weir.

A good crowd today and an easygoing enjoyable circle.

On on.
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RIP Kai Dai January 11th, 2011. Bali Hash House Harriers 2 is sad to report the loss of our longest serving runner Kai Dai who died last night 10th January after a run with Bali Hash House Harriers in Payangan. Kai Dai was much loved in our club. A quiet and likable man Kai Dai was fiercely loyal and over many years made a major contribution to our club. On many occasions over the years Kai Dai organised our Chinese New Year run and we will all have fond memories of him wearing his chinese hat. Kai Dai had completed more than 850 runs, far more than any other runner in our club. Monday's run was a steep drop down many steps into the river valley North of Payangan, then a steep climb up the other side before returning into the valley and back up to the run site. Kai Dai was tired and struggling for much of the run and his companions helped him back to the site. He went home but collapsed later and rushed to hospital, sadly it was too late to save him. Kai Dai will be sorely missed, a very sad day for Bali Hash House Harriers 2.

 

Run 989: Rabid Mangy Dog's Ubud Folly
Hares: Rabid Mangy Dog, Site: Central Ubud

January 6th, 2011 | By: Spurious Spewing.

An interesting run last week in the traffic filled trenches of frickin Ubud. Those that made it through the worst traffic jam ever and found a parking spot were treated to a nice run, circle, and hospitality at Han's Snels.

Sadly many didn't get there. Perhaps it might be best if hares stopped trying to use the hash to promote their mates restaurants and concentrated on setting good runs in good areas.

On on.

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Run 987: EXTREME HASHING
Hares: Tatty Matt and Manun, Site: Desa Bukian, Payangan

December 20th, 2010 | By: Spurious Spewing.

What an amazing run. This was a site we haven't used for many, many years. The last time we ran here Shorthorn was lost and out all night sleeping under a babana leaf in the pouring rain till dawn. Another member collapsed of exhaustion on the way home.

The run goes through a remote valley with no road access and few people, it was long, it as tough, but most of all it was great.

Well done Matt and Manun.

On on.

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The "Bloody Hell What A Hill" Run
Hares: Bemo and co . . . . . . . Site: Pucak Tedun, Petang

November 24th, 2010 | By: Spurious Spewing.

Penguin Click pictures to enlarge Did she swallow? It was miles up in the hills for a run near Plaga. We drove up, up, up then we ran down, down, down then we ran up, up, up then we all got pissed, down, down, down and drove home down, down, down. Semen Stains screwed up, up, up, he got lost after locking everone's keys in his car and crawled back to the circle in the nether darkness. A very up and down day really On on.

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Bra Day Run for Mount Merapi Victims
Hares: Jangle Balls and Ballderdash . . . . . . . Site: Bentuyung

November 19th, 2010 | By: Spurious Spewing.

"Come and get yer pies, lovely Jorok pies!" "Where should I stick the last three?" "We got the Money!" Today was a special run held in beautiful Bentuyung north of Ubud. We celebrated the patenting of the bra - an uplifting occasion and a good time was had by all. But more importantly this was a day to raise money to help the victims of Mt Merapi's recent eruption. Our heatfelt thanks go to Jorok and the Bali Bakery for sponsoring the run. On on.

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Halloween Run
Hares: Petrified Walrus Penis and Small Deposit

3rd November, 2010 | By: Spurious Spewing.

"Oh shit" Today we returned to the famous village of Twat Manis. Our hares for the day, Petrified Walrus Penis and Small Deposit had set a run to the South West. A good long run with a classic tunnel complete with Halloween ghosts at the end kept everyone busy. The weather was good to us and the run well set using yellow flowers (I'm not too sure about men bearing flower petals!). A lively circle which ended as the rain started to fall.

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John Lennon's 70th Birthday Run

October 24th, 2010 | By: Spurious Spewing.

"I love to get my balls iced" It's hard to set a bad run in Tegallalang and Woodeneye and St Tits excelled themselves today. A last minute change to the runsite was not a problem. The long run went through some beautiful country - classic Bali hashing and what makes this the best hashing in the world. The circle featured can can dancers and a nice gentleman whose cheeky shorts earned them an icing. On on.

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Wankervitch's 11th Hour Run

October 17th, 2010 | By: Bloodknock's batman.

The OctoberFest turned 200 this week - just look at the size of that glass! Not many of those to the pound Wankervitch pulled a good day out of the hat at the last minute. Standing in at the last minute he set a run in a site that is not the best to find a good run but.... he found one. Well done Wanker. The circle was a cracker well lead by our inimitable Woodeneye and well supported by Colonel Bloodknock the jokes went on late into the night. An excellent day was had by all.

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Mudflaps Up and Down Run

September 19th, 2010 | By: A not so innocent bystander.

It was good to get back to a good runsite. Mudflaps abley assisted by Pussy Flu took us to Margarana and set a fairly short run on a Northern circuit. No one fell in the river this week. As the Upacara started the rain came down and we ended up have a very late session in the Wantilan. A good friendly circle, Blue Ringed Roger from South Africa didn't want to get off the ice andMudflaps and Pussy Flu lead an enthusiastic crowd of exhibitionists on the stage.

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The "Oh What A Balls Up" Run

September 7th, 2010 | By: A passing dog.

We didn't find hashers on the Ubud football field - but we did find this. Some people have said this was the worst run ever set for Bali HHH 2. Rule no 1 the hare must ALWAYS get permission for the runsite. He didn't, no site, no parking, no beer. The run was difficult and very dangerous. The promotional on on didn't happen. The hashers were angry and retired to Wankervitch's place in disgust. The hare, who usually runs with another hash club, had excelled himself....

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21st August - The 2 Roads and a Rope Run

August 22nd, 2010 | By: Some poor soul who spent hours trying to find the site.

It had been wet, wet, wet and the paths were slippy up North of Sobangan and the Chicken brothers had had to move the runsite at the last minute making it difficult to find. Today we had 2 runs, a short run which was about 1.75 minutes long while the long was a tiring 2.4 minutes.. We went up a road, across to a river and a climb up a rock face with a rope and down another road. Shortcutters walked around a rice field. Happy Independence Day.

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14th August - The Septic River Run

August 15th, 2010 | By: Some poor unfortunate with aching legs, infected sores and a dose of the galloping trots.

Oh dear. Sanur is not a good place to set a run and this was reflected in a low turn out, many chose to stay away today. The hares were virgin hares and had worked hard taking us to some interesting places we had not been to before but unfortunately, at the end of the day, this is Sanur and with plenty of rubbish, fetid streams, a lot of bitumen, and a final crossing of the Septic River followed by 2 klms of concrete this was not the best run of the year. Ballderdash got lost finding his way home on a motorbike and a posse was set up to search for two strays who ambled the long deep in conversation. Disco Wanker returned from the antipedes to announce the sale of very low cost early bird tickets for the 2012 Interhash in Borobudur (should be a good do). Get your tickets from Disco now. The circle was held in good spirit with quite a few leavers (although the departure of Gordon Blue was missed) and a commercial promotion on on was held at the Orange Bar.

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7th August - Uncle's 90th Birthday Run

August 10th, 2010 | By: The man that held his horn.

Now listen up you lot! Today we have two runs for you ... Singapadu is not a particularly appealing site and one we have visited many times in recent months. But that didn't dampen the spirit and the hares had worked hard and found as good a run as you will find in this area. It was a good attendance for a very special day as Bali HHH 2 celebrated our most celebrated member and the world's oldest active hasher. A great run and an enthusiastic crowd lead into a memorable circle and the high standard of our runs in recent months was maintained. Happy Birthday Uncle Leong.

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The "Oh shit Worm that's a long one" Run

June 10th, 2010 | By: yet another hairy arsed bastard who didn't even want to be there.

Early leavers left early leaving 2 hashers and a little dog to set off at 4:30. It was a good run but a long one. Lucky it didn't rain with a river crossing early in the run that made many soil their shorts. Worm's liking for bitumen (he was the son of a well known tarmacker you know and born in a tent with the smell of hot tar in his nostrils) was well demonstrated today. Many were back to the circle in darkness but it didn't deter the the hardy souls from drinking and singing into the night. More names this week with Peter Eater, Arsehole for Short, Ballderdash and a few ohers being christened.

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The "Where's the Bloody Paper" Run

May 30, 2010 | By: Another hairy arsed bastard who shouldn't have been there.

Gudang and his mate Horny Herring where on an envornmentally responsible "let's save paper" bent last week. A good run through good country but finding the paper was worse than trying to find a virgin in the On On bar. Talking of virgins we missed one on Saturday. Check her out here: http://myowntwofeet-robyn.blogspot.com/. Not to worry we'll get her next time!

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Goals Of The Hash:
From the 1938 charter of the Kuala Lumpur Hash House Harriers:
*	To promote physical fitness among our members
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*	To persuade the older members that they are not as old as they feel

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