Hash Trash 1824

Our usual scribe Poumuli had gone AWOL but not before appointing yours truly as his deputy-assistant scribe – an undemocratic decision surely warranting a downdown next time, see below.

About 11 hardy pairs of soles turned up at Cocktails On The Rocks at the end of a very rainy day. Live hare Nom Nom took us to the lower slopes of Palisi for which among runners the term sado-masochism emerged: a topic in which P.O.D. showed a more than fleeting interest - inviting C.L. to display his encyclopaedic knowledge on the subject of pain (sados like to give and masos like to take it ;-). To his own relief, Swinger unsuccessfully tried to persuade the bunch to seek higher ground up Palisi. And so a lesser loop was completed in a total frontrunners’ time (less hash holds) of a mere (i.e. merely) 26 minutes and 25 seconds according to this cunning numerologist.

Our number was boosted by several non-running extras who helped attack the leftover keg of the previous day (at Godfather’s house, celebrating Lewinsky’s birthday and Snake’s survival of last week’s diesel tank disaster). Hash cash was successfully transmuted into pizza pieces at the suggestion of P.O.D. who hastily exited for good reason.

On forming the hash circle, C.L.’s status as scribe was disputed by Swinger and the yet-to-be-named Alex, both in an effort to duck out of being appointed G.M.: the latter did not succeed in this and our Grand Mistress took us very competently through the usual rituals. Swinger was on glass-filling duty but remained unfulfilled himself as he had a long drive ahead.

Newcomer James from Melbourne stated his intentions to run the Savaii half marathon on Saturday: this must have been on his mind when unwittingly overtaking the live hare at high speed, which of course earnt him a downdown. Retreads Octopussy, Swinger, Tom plus convinced non-runner David M paid their price for turning up again. Shoe inspector C.L. took the usual penalty for being unsuccessful in finding new shoes to be drunk from.

A day in history was dominated by the fact that Iowa was in 1921 the first entity (state) to raise a tax on smoking, which cost all the smokers present: Witchdoctor, WetPussy, Crime, Vicky (did DavidM escape this one I wonder). In 1814 Napoleon was sent in exile to Elba which island was proudly claimed by Il Capo as being Italian. 1721 saw the birth of Moravian missionary Zeisberger whose Dutch connection was claimed by C.L. for several valid reasons.

Noted celebrities were Nom Nom and P.O.D., the downdown for the latter taken by Snake who was perhaps not mentioned by name but surely featured extensively in the media as lucky survivor of the recent fire.

Shitbags reported back on his research on last week’s dispute between Cupless and C.L. He confirmed that drinking any 1 gram of alcohol results in an intake of 7 calories - thus busting the myth that there are none in whiskey. The good news about all this is that Shitbags’ source was a health magazine that stated you don’t have to give up booze if you want to live a healthy lives style, so we all took a sip to that. Penalty for Cupless unresolved, possibly a whiskey downdown next time? Unfairly C.L. was given a downdown instead, which visitor James gallantly took care of. It was noted that under some obscure hash rule only a mere was allowed to take a downdown for a hashman – C.L.’s  assurance that he would happily apply that immediately to a next round fell surprisingly flat.

Nominations from the floor resulted in a downdown to Snake – for fire survival – and to Tom for lack of telepathy as he had turned up at Palusami last week despite the area being evacuated. Illegible notes left unresolved whether Crime and/or anyone else got another downdown at this time: clearly your scribe was starting to be affected by some. This was not helped by the next round for all hashmen and meres who were to participate in Saturday’s half-marathon or 10km run in Savaii: Gill, Alex, Nom Nom, James and C.L. Barely legible notes (but by then who gives a s… anyway) record a geriatric award for Shitbags, for falling asleep in his chair with a beer on his lap at Godfather's the day before.

In the interest of “non-exclusion” (heaven knows why), further downdowns were had by Snake, Vicky, Nom Nom and Octopussy. The hosts and hare – G.M., Snake and Nom Nom - were thanked the usual way. Despite the absence of Godfather and his ukulele (Swinger, step up!) a valiant effort by the hash choir was made to out-noise the pub music with a short version of “Wise men say” and then it was pizza time.

The next hash is to be held at Snakepit (on the road leading from the town clock towards Mt Vaea, 100m past the first traffic light on your left). This is not for the vegetarians among us: venison, goat and rabbit promised to be on the menu!

Here you have it from Cunning Linguist: “Ein gutes Protokoll, ein genaues Protokoll” (as often heard in the excellent 1970s Werner Herzog movie The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser: still worth watching between runs :-).