It was a sunny day in Calahonda, with a chill wind in the air. At approximately 15.30 a juggernaught full of Russian Immigrants arrived to destroy the tranquillity of the day and deplete the stocks of Cruz Campo, even further than the previously assembled 30 – 40 Hashers could have hoped. The dreaded sound of “One Russian drinks, so all Russians drink” would have irreparably damaged the Costa Del Sol brewing industry. 

It was to be a notable day, celebrating many firsts. For a start, it was the first time Gangbang had ever been that old. She being the birthday girl. Far be it from me, to give out a girl’s age to all and sundry, but trust me, she doesn’t look it. Not any more anyway. It was also the first Hash Colonic Irrigation had ever set, bearing in mind that he has been swallowing our beer and enjoying our hospitality since mid August, shame on you Colonic. What other organisation would give you a nice name like that? It was also Gangbangs first real Hash, if you discount the pub crawl she and Flakey set in Los Boliches an eternity ago. It was a notable day also, for the array of Easter Bonnets and Bunnies. Could someone ask Gobble Gobble why her chicks were going quack? Bit of a biology error there, but then again it was Gobble Gobble. It was also notable in that for the first time we had more dogs than the dog hash. 

The GM of the day, our own Mummies Boy, assembled the circle and in time honoured tradition invited virgins and returners into the circle. This completely destroyed the circle, as there were more people in it, than out of it. How can Russia, albeit a large country, have that many virgins? Trailer Trash was frothing at the mouth!!!! The Hares were duly called into the circle and with the aid of a Collins English to Russian, Russian to English dictionary, Gangbang managed to upset everyone by suggesting that there was a check back with numbers (Shock Horror, not allowed on the Mijas Hash.) This was further exacerbated by Colonic Irrigation, with the aid of a Collins English to Stupid, Stupid to English dictionary, telling us that he had manufactured a flour dibber/dobber or whatever you wish to call the device, which deposited small arrows of flour, instead of blobs of flour. Other people are either employed or idle. Colonic Irrigation is obviously just sad. 

The “Run” eventually started and went through Calahonda Park. At the entrance of which was a sign which clearly stated, “NO PERROS.” Now bearing in mind that we had almost as many Dogs as Russians, thank God it didn’t say “NO RUSSIANS.”

Well done Colonic and Gangbang!!!!! After some very dubious checks and check backs, not to mention Leapy Lee’s little arrows, the route escalated to higher levels. Extremely higher levels. In fact it went up and up and up. Then it came to a very significant check. The correct route went even further up to where the air was extremely thin. In fact it was so difficult that, the only thing which kept everyone going was the sight of a short cutting bastard called Trailer Trash, short cutting all the way down to the motorway, where there was a False. The fact that the front running bastards, Gob and Spit, the Flemish twins, otherwise known as Itchy and Scratchy, (The Midgets) only improved the situation. Eventually the pack arrived at the beer stop. At this point Colonic and Gangbang were forgiven all previous sins, as copious amounts of champagne, dips, biscuits and all sorts of goodies were on offer. However, it should be noted that, despite previous written promises, that the midgets would be pre- fed, they still managed to displace at least their body weights of crisps. 

After the beer stop, the previously vicious but stunningly good terrain turned into a boring downhill trudge through a council estate. The smart money would suggest that Colonic was trying to combine his first Hash with his new venture into real estate. What better way to get 40 plus people to view nearly a thousand vacant properties.

 The pack gradually re-assembled at the car park, with everyone commenting on how disappointing the second half was, thank God.

More beer was poured into our visitors, virgins, and aniversarios and the run was duly marked. After much discussion and several fights, a mark of 7.5 was agreed. 7 for the signs from the N340 and 0.5 for the run. The circle was handed over to our RA’ness for the cleansing of our souls. Our RA then picked on that fine upstanding pillar of our hash and community, Fender Bender, who had done no more than suggest that short cutting bastards, including our RA, should be chastised. Various hashers were encouraged to purge themselves of a variety of sins, including Auriola and her friend Carlos who were forced to pay their penance in a compromising position for committing a crime, the nature of which escapes me for the moment. Dipper had obviously had his hands in the dip jars, probably up to his elbows, because his hands were so slippery that he dropped his “cock,” no fewer than three times. Three more drinks for Sheepshagger. Gobble Gobble was deemed to have the best Easter Bonnet and Aphrodisiac the worst. The quote of the day came from Gobichov. “Where have all these bloody Russians come from?”

 The entire ensemble then relocated, to a Chiringuito approximately 50 mtrs along the road, where the management had obviously heard of us and had taken the precaution of turfing out the general public. A good on on on was had by all. 

Well done Colonic and Gangbang, for organising a really good day. 

ON ON  Fender Bender

RUN 1026   16th March

Hare– Mork & Mindy ST PADDYS DAY
Cartama

 

 

RUN 1025   9th March

Hare– Swiss roll
Rio Grande

 

Dog Run 2  8th March

Hare– Strawberries

Near La Cala Football Ground

RUN 1024   2nd March

Hare– Sparky YOB
Near La Cala Football Ground

Well, here I am again. I apologise to you all, because the first time it was quite novel, but to have to do it again so soon is a bit tedious and verging on laborious. I know you will all understand where I am coming from when I say that there is a degree of mismanagement in the organisation of the Hash, but the question is now begged, are the lunatics finally running the asylum? I ask this question, because, once again my Mummy was delegated to be the scribe. Now any of you whose eyes are focussed in similar orbits, will have no doubt noticed that my Mummy neither runs nor walks a Hash. She chats it. You will be totally aware that she is permanently at the back of the pack gassing to anyone who has been gifted with one or more functioning ears. Rumour has it that, on the 1000^th run, she dislocated her jaw and anyone who has come to our house on a Monday, couldn’t help but notice her gob in a sling. As a result of this, she wouldn’t recognise flour if she tripped over it. Haven’t you ever noticed her glazed expression when the hare explains the run markings? So she said she was f&^%$d if she was going to write it. That left my Daddy, who didn’t do the run because he wasn’t well. Bloody hypochondriac.  So that leaves me again. Isn’t it always the same, responsibility always gravitates to the bottom of the food chain?

 So here goes, and I apologise for any inaccuracies, because the observant among you will have noticed that I didn’t do the run either. Organisation, my rear eye!!!

The circle was called and Mummies Boy was GM. There being no virgins or visitors, they are getting smart, aren’t they? The hare, Sparky TOB was called into the circle to explain what he had done. The pack got even uglier when he said there was a check back with numbers and some circle type things. The pack got uglier still when Sparky announced that the On On On’s would be at the 9 Dragons restaurant, that well known hostelry run by our friendly Costa Cantonese chums Sam and Ella. Still, thirteen of the thirty odd hashers said they would risk it.  Anyway, they set off at a snails pace up a long steep hill. A short time later they all appeared at the other side of the hill milling around looking for what appeared to be several tracks. Sparky, could be seen at the top of another hill jumping up and down waving his arms and shouting, “Not that way, that is the in trail, go the other way.”  It would appear that Sparky had managed to set a figure of 88 trail, which left just about everyone confused. The one saving grace was that, as a result of all the confusion, everyone stayed close together.

After the beer stop was much the same, and regardless of all the shouts of Hash Shit, the only real high spot was Gangbang falling on her rear eye. Sparky the old bastard got awarded 5.9 for that shambles. Money for old rope if you ask me.

 The down down’s proceeded and once again the Arch Dickon copped out and nominated Chronic Irritation to be the Large Anus. Actually my Daddy said his name was really Colonic Irrigation, but the thought of that made my rear eye go into spasm.

The large anus made my friend Titus sit in the mud, because he made a rude noise and disrespected the large anus. The large anus then proceeded to make just about everyone drink warm beer for some contrived reason or other. Some Russians had to drink beer, because they spent about four hours choosing some new Hash shoes and then refused to wear them. Sorry, but I can’t remember much more, anyway, I don’t care, the buck doesn’t even slow down here.

I can’t tell you anything about the On On On’s because my Mummy said we didn’t have enough medical insurance to risk it.

 On On,  Dances with woofs (oops does that contravene rule 6) Summer Norris aged 4 and threequarters

RUN 1023   24th February

Hares – Septic Scrotum

Location nr. Torremolinos Congress Centre, towards Los Pinares BBQ Area. Hare - Sceptic Scrotum.

A mottley collection of 14 Hardy Hashers arrived at the start to be introduced to Mummies Boy´s new virgin.Apparantly he had to go to Edinburgh to find one as they are now extinct on the Costa del Sol.
Most sensible Hashers had decided not to attend as the weather had been crap all week, but they were the losers, not ,of course forgetting the Mijas Missionary Hashers off in the Far East.
We were briefed by the hare not to expect to find too many “False” signs, as it would obvious to us all when the trail goes dead¡ Nice one Scrotum
We set off, under the Autovia, up into the mountains; what checks there were seemed to have no trails leading off at all, however after the whole pack (all 14 of us ) had wandered in wider and wider circles the new trails finally presented themselves; it certainly kept the pack together.
We made it to the Beer Stop, to be then directed thrú the rubbish tip (No good Hash should be without one) and off into a ravine heading towards Alhaurin de la Torre¡ only to cross over and double back via the Pipe Walk - traversing a cliff edge Shagadelic was ably assisted by two ( lecherous) gentlemen hashers, one holding her front and the other her rear,
A good run into the finish saw the Hare awarded 8.5 for his outstanding toil.
Flakey purged us of our sins, ( but not his ).Stiff Fanny announced that she was leaving for Australia the very next day.
Once upon a time you could be transported to Austalia for stealing a loaf of bread; how times change-------

On On Sparky TOB.
  

RUN 1020   3rd February

Hares – Willy wanker & dumb arse.

Rio Grande - The Aquarius Run


The Run began with the circle in the stones of the river, beneath the eucalyptus it was the only sunny place. Once the Run began we went up out on the track that we had entered  on, alongside the road for a spell until a particularly cunning Check Back had us going through a tunnel to get the the other side of the road. From there it was up and up and up, but through the most stunning scenery with the almond blossom at it best and all around. A sufficient number of splits and checks kept the pack together well. We were confused at one point by what appeared to be a check marking on a rock at the side of the trail. It turned out to be a painted on by the owner and nothing to do with us. It was at this point that we left the tracks and went off trail into the campo... Great! We arrived (most of us) at the Beer Stop in just short of an hour. In the shade here Sparky wandered off to get in the sun. As soon as he arrived in it a cloud came over. That`s life! After the beer stop there was a split trail missing and the pack had to ask the Hares for directions. The remainder of the trail was downhill and we finished up in the river. All of us finished up in the river! Some us actually tried to avoid this by staying on the same side as we knew the cars were on. We were able to get within 50 metres but at that point the way became impassable and those who did it had to wade through deep water getting our shorts wet! Life biting us on the bum again!
The hares were eventually given what was described as a good 8. The circle was taken for the first time by the virgin and deputy, deputy, Religious Adviser - Colonic Irrigation. And particularly well if I may say so!
Kindergarden Cop

 

RUN 1018   20th January

Hares – 5 Mil

 

Well, that was the best hash I have ever been on. Loads of playing and very little running. There was a lovely river and I could run and swim and chase my ball for hours. Even the giant hasher, I think they call him "Titus" or something, he threw my ball for me. It was wonderful. My mummy was told to be the scribe. I think it was because she got rid of some hashish, or something like that, but my mummy has only got a rudimentary grasp of English, so she asked my Daddy to write it for her, but he said something in Russian, I think it was "Foogov" or something like that. Anyway my Mummy said it was just as well, because he couldn't remember anything after the beerstop. Anyway Mummy said I should write it.

The run started at about twenty past three. It went up a hill, along the top past two lots of bee hives, where Mummies Boy and my Daddy got stung and then it went down the hill to the beerstop. We got to the beerstop at about a quarter to four and strangely enough, even with it being so short, the hashers were strung out all over the hill. The hashers were all complaining about missing effs, whatever they are. I thought it was good, because I nearly didn't get shouted at. They also complained about there being very few crisps. Five Mil who was the Hare, said that he had bought five bags, but the two Midget Hashers, "Itchy" and "Scratchy" had four and a half bags.

After the beerstop, there was a ww trail and a hashers trail. The hashers trail lasted for about five minutes and the ww trail lasted about three minutes and we were all back at the cars at about four o clock. This was great, because the Venta wasn't booked till seven, so everyone had to hang around for ages and I got to play in the river again.

Five Mil said it wasn't his fault, because a man with a gun, stopped him from going on his land. I think the man was Russian, because he said "Foogov" as well. Anyway, I know what that is like, because my Daddy takes me on the golf course at night, and I was on the fourteenth green and right in the middle of it was a hole. How fortuitous, I thought just the place to deposit a darkie. Then a man with brightly checked legs and a funny hat, pointed what looked like a gun at me and I had to have it away on my heels, mid strain. Very uncomfortable especially when you can't see very well because your eyes are watering. But I digress. The circle was called and all the people said Five Mil was a bad boy and at least ten of them said he should get some hashish. Then they had a vote and it was unanimously decided that Five Mil should get the hashish my Mummy got rid of. They said he should get it because of the short run, the missing effs, the bee stings and the lack of crisps.

Dipper was in his element because he was able to spend about three hours in the circle with no one complaining or yawning and he made Colonic Irrigation and Gangbang drink beer, for not feeding the midgets.

It is a bit difficult to say any more about the down downs, because I was tied to the towbar on Mindy's car. The on on on's were at a local Venta, but it was past my bedtime so we went home.

Sorry about any spelling mistakes, but I am a dog and school was all about running over planks and through tunnels. A bit like hashing.

 

ON ON  Lone Woolf (Summer Norris aged 4 and a half)

 

RUN 1017   13th January -   Coin woods

Hares – Fender Bender/Gobble Gobble

 

RUN 1016   6th January -   La Cala

Hares – Karma & 2 Pies

THE SIR ROY FIRST ANNUAL MEMORIAL RUN – 6^TH JAN 2008                          HARES:  KNOCKOUT TWO PIES & KHARMA KHAMELEON

A brand spanking new year saw some 46 hashers gathered in the hills above La Cala. The day was cool but sunny, redolent with the promise of Spring. A shrine to Sir Roy was placed in the Gathering Circle, and a minute’s silence was observed for Him and all other departed Hashers. Apologies for absence were received from Oxfam, currently Down Under. A book was opened on who would be next (Sparky YOB 11:4 on, place your bets with Hash Cash).

But a giant unspoken cloud hung over the assembled multitude; there were stares and whispers, renamings threatened. Do you remember where you were on 22^nd November 1963 (in your respective Daddies’ bollocks, most of you), or when the first plane hit the twin towers in New York? Well, similarly, many hashers will remember the moment they first learned of The Great Infidelity. And there in our midst was one of The Great Perpetrators.

But I digress – the Hares deserve better. Virgins were introduced and the pack set off a traves campo, revisiting some old familiar haunts seldom seen nowadays, but all the more welcome for it. Some goodly checks, a bit of shagging in the bushes from Colonic and Gang Bang, then down near the football ground and finally into the tunnel. On and on thru’ the tunnel, and on, and on, torches illuminating hunched forms and clenched buttocks, then spurting, gushing, even, out onto the sunlit beach and into the welcoming caress of the Beer Stop.

The second half led us over more familiar territory, wriggling around a lot, and found a batch of the saddest wankers trespassing through private land and crawling under fences to gain the temptingly obvious cars.

In the Circle, the run was awarded 8 worthy marks. The RA was a paradigm of hashly virtue and wit, sins were cleansed and idiocies purged, a sermon on morality given, and Itchy and Scratchy duly christened. When one Adulterer drank, all Adulterers drank. Big Bitch and Hash Cash did not stay for the Circle, the cold weather did not agree with their delicate Scottish constitutions.

Then On over the road to the stables, where acceptable food was produced so slowly that some people were leaving by the time Your Scribe received her main course. Nonetheless, a good effort.  All in all, Sir Roy would have approved. Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.

Your Scribe, Gobbichov.