Run - 1817 - 21st August 2022

Run number 1817,

Location: Rio Grande Cartama.

Hares: Nikki Bitch & Up Yer Bum

Anniversarios: Up Yer Bum 785, Colonic Irrigation 495

Virgins. Nataly & Tomas.

Sunday 21 August 2022. Robin Sharma the Canadian author of the book “5AM Club” would have been delighted to see what looked like 10% of the total number of usual hashers getting out of bed at such early hours that were otherwise reserved for a shag or a five knuckle shuffle in bed. Some hard-core hashers managed to set their alarm clock at 5AM to drive like a donkey the 40km ride inland, sacrificing their breakfast, coffee, and nicotine fix.

Directions: Drive to the Google coordinates and there will be signs from there, and when you get there….. No signs. No response to your call for lost souls. No cross, no Jesus nor Mohammed, not even One With A Little Shite On, to show us the way.

MasterBates would have been cursing the hares all the way to Sweden and back for this inadequate of use technology where coordinates precision could bring you to park your park within centimetres of each other and yet somehow the lesser intelligent and technologically orientated hashers had somehow made it to the starting point with just reading the two lined description of “Turn right and then turn left”.

Punctual like Swiss watches and German trains, hashers and harriettes had assembled at the start as early as 30 minutes before the run start time. Some dying of thirst and others of hunger, many hashers had decided to skip breakfast at home, deny themselves a coffee at the petrol station, and instead aim to arrive early enough to make the most out of their 5 euro contribution hash fee. Yet there was no beer to be found at the start of the run to quench their thirst and no crisps to provide the carburettor with the required fuel for any hash run.

Even the river was dry as it could get. No water despite the warning for wet shoes.

Arduous as it was, the co-hare was booed and shoed Up Her Bum, to get the hashers their paid and well-deserved beer. For which she disappeared down the dry river with a Happy Ending to return with just a few cans of beer a sad ending to what was promised to be 5km short run.

Run start at some point beyond midday. “Wait for me you bastards” the prophet shouted across the river, while your newly christened “Her majesty Queen A.very Good.lay” (Formerly known as “Just say when”) had lost the trail with a Freckled Fanny before we had even started. The hare could be seen zig-zagging across the river within 500 meters of the start of the run, misleading the pack, driving around to misguide the front runners who ran the 2kms trail to the beer stop, arriving before a bunch of walkers, short cutting bastards, cutting the trail short by another 1km and mostly refusing to even do the second half of the trail.

At 1km, well maybe 2 for the front runners, this must be amongst the shortest runs in the history of Mijas Hash. While the bitch, Nikki claims to have done 12km to set the run, posting a Photoshop edited version of her fatbit watch, which visibly indicates that the hare is of generation T, capable of adding a 1 before the digit 2 and getting up to Robin’s cock at 5AM, this was the longest run she had set in her whole entire hash shit life, 2KM.

For all your sins, you shall all be punished, but the punishment should be painful. The bitch up her bum were slobbering on the thought of sitting on ice with each other, arguing over which position would produce more juice as the ice melted and the dogs licked the hot juice flowing from the hole in the toilet seat. Singing Hash shit to prolong what seemed to be a joyful lesbian act to the delight of some MasterBating as the best pornography they have watched all week.

Salmonella Rushdie could not have described these Satanic Verses better in his book, for only on the hash do such church-going, god abiding, Muslims and Christians, leave all their religions at home and give up their souls to the profanity of the hash, knowing that all will be well, for they will be cleansed of their sins by their very own Cardinal Colonic Irrigation. And for that matter the bitch of a hare offered all hashers a free meal, Curry, to ensure the cleansing of all those colons and colonic profanity that only happens on the hash and stays on the hash.

On On Salmonella Rushdie