Ariba ariba, eres una gallina, donde esta mi sombrero! and all that shit, it’s on-on to the Beijing HHH Cinco de Mayo run!

Hashers congregated en mass under the much appreciated shelter of a subway stop in the middle of nowhere. Hash Cash-handling Black Turd was overwhelmed by enthusiastic gentleman and ladies wearing lycra thrusting money at him – nothing new there then. Proving to all around (i.e. absolutely no one) that hashers are in fact the toughest of the tough, hashers said a huge f*** you to the rain by donning their summer running attire with plenty of flesh on show. A handful of female hashers wearing white were quick to identify their wardrobe malfunctions, as the persistent rain began to turn their Sunday afternoon jog into an all out wet t-shirt contest. Open check was called and the hash was on. 

Though the rain had washed away most of the hares wonderfully laid marks, hashers found their way and arrived at a woman’s only open check. After a few broken nails and some general whining, females found the marks and led the runners onto a very slippery hash hold. Front-running bastard Circus Freak saw this opportunity to run ahead and cop a squat behind a phallic-shaped bush to spend a few intimate minutes with himself. No further comment. Photos were taken and a few ankles were nearly snapped, but nonetheless open check was called and the hashers ran on.

Visiting hasher and all round iron-man Master Wanker showed the Beijing hash what he was made of by running like a beast after having completed a 100k run the day before – what a hero! Upon arrival at the first beer stop where the walkers and the runners crossed trail, Lord Cockington treated everyone to a tune or two on Dazed & Confused’s horn, showing surrounding hashers how to tease a tune out of the instrument by vibrating your lips rapidly. The gung-ho melodies from the horn clearly enticed the animal instincts of rowing drunk karaoke singers over the road, and hashers looked on in horror/delight/fascination as a totally hammered Chinese gentlemen was bundled into a car after stumbling around, throwing punches at his friends babbling indecipherable Mandarin. A true inspiration to all hashers – utterly wasted early on a Sunday afternoon. We salute you, you drunken fool.

Despite the rain and mud, hashers ploughed on through the trail which led them through crop fields, piles of rubble, barbed wire and LOTS of shit – so much in fact that an overwhelmed El Cunto/Das Cunt/Le Cunt let out some truly girly shrieks in horror at the smell. You didn’t get away with it buddy, we all heard.

We soon arrived at a tiny and very smelly village adjacent to Beijing airport, where a very talented spanish artist (Roberto) had drawn an exquisite pair of breasts on a wall. Taking this as an invitation to get naked, a flashing showdown ensued between Circus Freak and Doggie Lips, much to the amusement of the by standing locals. 

By the time we reached the second beer stop, there was hardly a hasher in sight that wasn’t suffering from nippleitus (an official term according to Flat Ginger Pussy). There was a minor disagreement between the shop owner and Snot, as the shop owner insisted that hashers had bought 10 bottles of water. Hare Snot, who knows his hash so well, was quick to dismiss this as wanktastic water as simply not the drink of choice for hashers. Having already run a long trail, hashers gorged on oreos, ice creams and snickers bars to get an energy boost before heading off for the final stretch of the run.

Inching closer to those oh-so-tempting margaritas, hashers stormed through the last section of the run and were welcomed by a slightly battered and bruised Dry Hole (with a beer in-hand), who took a tumble during his 50k the previous day, but still strapped on a pair and came to join in the festivities.
Under the shelter of some shop fronts behind the restaurant, the circle began with Wasabi Geisha being called and CHAMED for losing her prestigious silver HHH 50 run tankard. A glug or two from the cock of chame later, and Wasabi Geisha promised to cherish her cup from now on. After being caught munching on her shoelaces earlier in the day, Circus Freak was worried for the nutritional health of Black Eyed Tits and very kindly picked her up a nutrious snack – a raw chicken foot. ‘Im a vegetarian! I’m a vegetarian!’ screamed Black Eyed Tits as the yummy snack was dangled in front of her face. A likely story……

Sperm Maid was made to apologize to fellow hashers Doggie Fondue and Doggie Lips for kicking innocent canine friends along the trail. Accusations were made and people were named and shamed, but the cold weather and driving rain was making those enchiladas seem so very tempting, and the mismanagement tried to wrap up the circle, however not before Dazed & Confused announced a naming. Under bucketsful of beer, loyal hasher Jimmy was christened ‘Vaginamite Kungfu’ – vaginamite because of his Australian heritage and ALL Australians love Vegemite (and are born illegitimate), and kungfu due to the recent revelation that he supplies the sound effects for kungfu movies – what an awesome job! The sodden hashers were on-food to the delicious Mexican treats waiting for us inside. 

The wonderful staff at the Mexican Kitchen circulated countless jugs of frozen margaritas, and the scrumptious food just kept coming and the damp, muddy hashers ate and drank their fill. So tolerant were the staff, even a traditional riotous rendition of swing low didn’t get us thrown out! 
Can’t remember anything past this point!

On On

Doggy Lips