Run 1664 - 03 Nov 2019

Hare: Shagadelic
Location: Rubbish tip in Puerto Banus
Number of runners: 27
Virgins: ?
Visiting Hashers: Chutney Ferret, Son, Daughter-in-Law & Grandson
Anniversary: Just Say When – 365, Sperm Aid - 300, Jerry Can - 205

A Run up Shaggy’s Back Alley

With knuckles turning white on the grab handle, I nervously checked and re-checked that my seat belt was correctly fastened. Sir Flakey was edging up over 310 Km/h in Stiff Annie’s souped-up Rav-4. One of his gnarled fingers rested laconically on the bottom of the steering wheel whilst the other 9 danced over the key board of his early prototype Samsung Galaxy S-1.

It was to my huge relief when we swung off the main road on to what appeared to be a set straight out of Chernobyl. At the top of the road, we passed Shagadelic laying the last few feet of the run. Flakey ran his window down and yelled a stream of angry invective at her in Scouse, which sounded a lot like “Ag-agag-ag-agag-ag” and roughly translates into “Where are the ‘effin signs! Why haven’t you put any signs out?!” Flakey was clearly in ill humour, most probably in anticipation of Everton’s imminent defeat (have they ever won?). I don’t know who was going to beat them this time. From what I’ve seen of Everton’s performance in the past, a group of syphilitic gnomes could do it. Almost anyone, so long as they wore red T-shirts.

But I digress – as usual….

An uneventful start took us past an abandoned scooter in the puddle of tramp’s piss, beyond which we had to clamber over the pile of building rubble and broken glass that Shaggy had artistically arranged to completely block the path. Then a sharp turn left past the half-built and abandoned houses. I blew the conch horn for the first time at that point, making just enough noise to awaken the sleeping tramps, who then started to eye-up the Rav-4 and discuss the easiest way to remove the wheels.

Across the main road and then into the heart of Puerto Banus. So exciting! I’d never been there before, and it was fascinating to watch the police arresting prostitutes on the beach. What happens to them then? Do they get taken back to the cop shop and have to pay a fine in kind? That’s the way we did it in Hong Kong in the ‘90s.

Then we were running down the water-front, startling the residents and people otherwise enjoying the peace and tranquillity of their expensive vacations. At one point the markings lead down to the sea and then simply just stopped at the water’s edge. No amount of searching found markings anywhere in the vicinity. Did they resume in Morocco perhaps? Maybe. We shall never know. So, it remains one of those great mysteries of life, like how it can be that no matter how hard you run, around every corner your way is blocked by Master Bates, weaving his way artfully from side-to-side in order to frustrate you. This week I completely failed in my usual quest to get stuck behind Speed Bumps and missed the chance to once again examine her choice of panties.

Eventually, with unerring instinct, we tracked down the beer stop hidden up Shaggy’s back alley. Here’s another mystery for you: It happens every time, that a bunch of hashers with a median age of 83 are always already at the beer stop before the front runners can get there? There was even an old farts bench, with 4 crinkly hashers on it, settling into their 3rd beer and comparing ailments. I shan’t give names here in order to protect the guilty, but they know who they are…

Shortly after the beer stop the trail took a sudden right away from the sea and up a wide set of steps into a square of some kind. Sitting on the steps filing her nails was one of the most gorgeous creatures I have seen outside of a classified ad on www.xhamster.com. I passed her, and then realising that sleeping tonight would be impossible otherwise, I turned back to her, ready with my best carefully rehearsed chat-up line “Do you have any English in you?” it starts, and then the punch line: “would you like some?”. Gets them every time. But this occasion it was different. Master Bates had got there first, and the nail file lay forgotten on the pavement. They were already joined at the hip and the cops were closing in. Something subtle had to be done – and fast! It took 3 of us to drag him off her and a 4th hasher to go back and retrieve Master Bates’ wallet, car and house keys that had somehow accidentally fallen into her handbag.

The rest of the run was uneventful and was taken up with a long conversation with Rubber Turd about logistics and the state of his concrete arteries. Flakey had already peeled off somewhere, ostensibly to watch Everton break a leg, but I doubt that’s really true. I found a nail file on the floor of the car on the way home that night. Shortly after, we hit the on-in sign (and this is true) I ducked off trail and went and hid under a bridge to relieve some of the pressure on my baseball sized prostate. I’d just reeled my tackle out and got started on what is usually a long slow process, when I heard a voice right behind me say “I can’t see any markings”. Yes, Swiss Roll, it’s entirely your fault that you followed me into the bushes. I ended up with wet shoes and the bushes went un-watered.

The circle was, well, round and um… uneventful in the great scheme of things. Ably run by From Behind this was to be his last appearance until February. You’d better hope that Colonic starts turning up – otherwise you’re all xxcked. The marks for the run ranged from minus 5 to an impossible 10 from one of the guests. Mummy’s Boy somehow computed the output as 8.8. I think he’s sweet on Shaggy to be honest.

Bloody Pinocchio had a well-deserved down-down. It’s not a hash matter, but as it was brought into the circle, I’m going to put the entire story on permanent record: On Sunday he turned up at Knob’s End to watch the rugby, having cycled 2 hours from Malaga in torrential rain, armed with a six pack of zero alcohol gnats piss. After opening one of them, his eyes lit up when he saw the jug of Bloody Mary coming out of the kitchen. There were also two bottles of Champagne in the fridge for when England won and two bottles of Cava for use in the improbable event of England losing. Of course, the lot was consumed for consolatory purposes – mostly by Stiff Annie but I suspect some of it went Pinocchio’s way as well. He wobbled off down the road with the intention of taking the train from Fuengirola. Best laid plans eh?! Once on the train he closed his eyes for a moment’s rest and when he opened them again the train was pulling back into Fuengirola, having been to Malaga and back. He eventually made it back home to find that the apartment had been sold, and divorce proceedings initiated. Why had no-one woken him when it reached Malaga? Maybe he looked so peaceful, no-one wanted to disturb him. Or maybe they just thought he was dead. That’s more likely.

There was an attempt at the end of the circle to auction Flakey’s car. There was €3,000 bid for the car key and a further €2,000 for the house key. Then someone spotted Stiff Annie’s chastity belt key on the ring and all bids were withdrawn.

I do remember the journey from the circle to the on-on. Disappointed that the tramps had failed to remove any wheels from Flakey’s Rav-4 and in our inability to auction it off, we deposited it outside the nearby hospital as a gift for incoming alcoholics. Speed Bumps gave me a ride to the on-on. Another one finger on the wheel 9 fingers on the phone job. Maybe she sensed my rising excitement and wicked intent, ‘cos she skyped her boyfriend and introduced him to me – all whilst negotiating Puerto Banus traffic. Slipping neatly into the only parking space left within 5Km of the restaurant, she then rolled down the offside window and proceeded to have a leisurely conversation with Swiss Roll, who had pulled her biscuit tin up alongside us. Both of them were entirely oblivious to the huge queue of traffic building up behind Swiss Roll. Flashing their lights and leaning on their horns mad no difference at all. Some things apparently can’t be rushed.

Somehow, we made it into the restaurant without getting beaten up and feasted on noodles. The choice was noodles or noodles. I chose noodles. Shaggy had done a super deal with the restaurant to serve us at the special price of “Usual Retail”. Chutney Ferret and tribe as well as several others who had signalled their intent to come never showed up. It might possibly be something to do with the fact that the directions to the on-on and even the identity of the restaurant given on the website were somewhat lacking in detail. To this day it still says “on-on directions TBA”. Hash Mismanagement at it’s finest! 😊

Sir Flakey finally showed up to grace us with his presence and slurp down some noodles. Even from the other end of the table we could smell the cheap perfume. The ride home with Flakey was if anything more exciting than the ride out. At one point a huge skid mark was created. I discovered it the next day when putting my kaks into the washing machine.


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Next Run #1664
The Posh and Scary Run

Sunday 03 Nov 2019 - 15:00hrs

Hare: Shagadelic

VISITING AND NEED DIRECTIONS OR A LIFT - E-MAIL US

Circle: Puerto Banus
This weeks hash will be in Puerto Banus and the parking will be behind the old Moulding Clinic or the Marbella Hospital on the Golden Mile.

Added to that is the fact we are around Halloween time and it is Banus, so if you want to look Posh and/or Scary - it's all appropriate!

Navigation to The Circle:
Google Maps link to the circle.
Latitude N 36°29'51.6", Longitude W–4°29'51.6"

Directions: ***See navigation above***

OnOn: TBA.

Navigation to The OnOn:
Google Maps link to the OnOn pending.

OnOn Menu:
TBA
Price: Price €TBA

Lost Soles:
Phone: +34 951 560 561


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