Run 1015 Report

LAKESIDE HASH HOUSE HARRIERS HASH TRASH

Run 1015, 10 December 2003

Hare: Udder Idjit: Teddy Bear’s Picnic Run

Hurlingham Park, Brighton East

I went down to Udder Idjit’s Teddy Bear’s Picnic Run last night and I sure got a big surprise – namely (and Number one of several) – the Boomerang hanging his nude buttocks over the fence of the oval for all to ogle while changing. Boy, was he sure wigglin’ that booty around. I had gone to Brighton expecting a run marked by refined behaviour, but after all, Udder had set his run in the Frankston end of Brighton. Actually, I have to admit, (and don’t get the idea that I’m some kind of goddamned prevert or anything) – Boomer is in fair shape in the gluteal department. The other surprises were, in no particular order, no bog at the venue; no lights at the venue; Udder’s usual and alarming backdrop of playground equipment; weird and non-standard flour trail; Udder’s vicious little dog which pissed on the Major’s pram; and a drinkstop 200 metres from the off featuring that well-known cocktail sherry and orange juice.

It was a Lakeside roll-up a little bit like the English rugby team (which IBM couldn’t shut up about all night), i.e., marked by a host of old stagers, such as IBM, Lethal, Kakadu Dax, Shunt, GG, Major Fuck-Up, Point-Post and Whippet, plus a sprinkling of new talent like the Arse-assin, Peter, Fred, On Yer Bike and Nefertits; not forgetting AFU (Jarrah) nor Simon (I mean Generic Hasher). Trail headed for the Nepean Highway and climaxed along Bay St where we mildly amused the late-evening, well-heeled, chardonnay-drinking, Brighton hoi polloi. Apparently we then bunched up and formed a Cluster Fuck, according to the military tacticians among us like Rolf Harris and Tickler. Trail continued along Bay St, taking in the hair removal clinic which as IBM observed specialises in the Crack, Sack and Back treatment. We arrived at the drinkstop to find the late-arriving GG, who had again reverse-run the last 10% of the trail but who had admirably found time to befriend a lady companion on the way.

They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. So was Udder’s dinner, a layout of rolls, cold meats, salads, relishes and other accoutrements, pounced on and torn to pieces by the ravenous pack like a flock of seagulls. Gerbils attempted to call the circle to order in the gathering gloom above the usual uproar, not to mention the whine of circling mosquitoes; having mysteriously donned a Richmond AFL jumper doctored-up with the Lakeside logo. This turned out to be a present for departing Richmond resident and Sgt @ Arms Too Dumb To Die (Who? who? called the pack); then Gerbils rather unwisely called upon all present to sign it, prompting a rush forward by several of the elder hashmen and a flurry of autographs scrawled across the breastal region and the word ‘Lethal’ across the crotch.

Kling-On kicked off the charges by pointing out that Damien (a.k.a. Shag-pile? / The Omen?) got caught between check-marks without calling. GG caught Whippet creaming on his boxer dog Clay. Actually it was a bad night for trying to be funny because the circle was full of dogs and kids which you just can’t compete with, as pointed out by that well-known hasher, W.C. Fields. Further, on matters canine, Chicko received his well-deserved 100th – run dog bowl from the GM. But, the GM also awarded Stuck-On and Janus their 100th-run goblet (again!), and also 150th run tankards to Whippet and Mothball (AGAIN!!). Lethal charged GG for sneaking up to his girlfriend’s place (The Big O) while reverse-running the previous week. Non-Entity was warmly congratulated by all for finally showing up in shorts and hash gear after a year at Lakeside. Shagadelic was wearing a mosquito-repellent leg bandage; courtesy of a high-speed car accident. Moral: don’t dangle your leg out of the door during a high-speed car accident. Shunt charged Mummies’ Boy for fossicking around at the tip; but that involves the story of the Curse of the Gilded Mirror, which must await another day for the telling.

But enough of such crap, for what I have wrested back the scribal pen after an 18-month break for is so I can harangue you all about one of my many hobby-horses; namely Six Degrees of Separation from Danny Dickfos. This is the book, you will recall, that claims that anybody in the world can be connected to anybody else through a chain of six personal acquaintances. It doesn’t really matter in this case who the hell Danny Dickfos is, because he’s just the example (though he does happen to be a very handy former half-back flanker for the Brisbane Lions; kind of in the Chris Johnson-mould, but not quite as good). Well, I’m over the moon because I happened to have linked Mothball to the Danny Dickfos! And I have photographic proof to boot (see attachment).

Now, (1) Mothball as we know was raised in the far-off West Indies. There he had two cousins, (2) Chris Smith and Stafford Smith. In the late 1960s they emigrated to Australia and enrolled at Burwood High School in Melbourne’s leafy eastern suburbs; where they were encountered by fellow pupil, (3) the young Mummies’ Boy. (Having only ever seen black West Indians playing cricket, the rest of the school could never work out why these new white kids spoke with such funny accents, like the luggage porters in the Tarzan movies) Our most noted school sportsman at that time was (4) Graeme ‘Bondy’ Bond, current 3AW commentator who played in the Richmond seniors while still at high school (I can get you an autograph on your jumper, TDTD). Bondy played in a premiership side with (5) John ‘Swooper’ Northey, who subsequently moved to Brisbane and coached…. you guessed it …(6) Danny Dickfos! So there you have it. But who would have thought that Mothball and Mummies’ Boy’s lives would have been so uncannily linked over a period of 35 years. For example, way back when I was struggling to make the Burwood High School tunnel-ball team, Mothball was probably hooking steepening bouncers off some greentop pitch in Trinidad, to the accompaniment of steel drums played by the crowd; or, while I was trudging to school over Gardener’s Creek, Mothball was probably lolling back on some glorious Caribbean beach, rum punch in hand, gazing out over the azure tropical seas, unaware that his future lay with Lakeside…

On on

Guest scribe : Mummies’ Boy (with thanks to Lethal and Rolf Harris).

Don’t forget BB’s 50th at the Sea Scouts on Saturday night!

UPCUMMING

17 Dec Run 1016 The Boomerang 4/39 Horne Street, Elsternwick; Melway 67 F4. The Xmas run.

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