A small crowd awaited their doom before the official start. The weather was slightly cool with raindrops and many hashers were recovering from the long trip there, (2 hours for some). Pickled Boy had shaved his head and had a “mammoth” approach to…..whatever . Others got re-inforcements: drinks, food and Cumshot bought PLASTIC BAGS, (a few hashers with inflated egos thought they were condoms). Like all doomsdays it seemed doomed not to happen and latecomers at 3:30pm were not late-comers.

The Hash eventually officially started “significantly”, (more likely, “conveniently”) at “15:39” when, after the GM’s welcome, the hares, Kimchi Muncher and i-Fag explained some very unusual marks involving the illuminati, aliens and crop circles.
The walkers started with about 11 or 12 including some of the usual runners. Dog Pounder had some feeble excuse for losing the runners by telling BT she would miss him too much but then rushed off to buy “ice-cream”.

i-Fag was revelling in the manifestation of his own marks and was later punished for the sin of “pride”, although he did rather foolishly admit to a certain scribe that he had used the kilogram – pound conversion rate for converting his i-pad’s miles to kilometres, (thus exaggerating the distances by a factor of 1.375; but this hardly matters on the brink of doom).
Jurgen was suffering from long-distance travel, (i.e. train-lag), and ended up as a real latecomer. Totally lost, he was happily rescued from meeting his doom by helpful “drinking” hash walkers at the first beer stop, (memories of “Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy” are possibly pertinent here).
There were to be 2 more beer stops with runners and walkers at both. i-Fag did do very well in providing cold beer for these stops. However we were appropriately reminded by him of this; as already stated above, he was punished for the sin of “pride”.

The walkers group diminished again this week. This time it was Cumshot who joined the runners apparently so she could keep walking??
“Hare”, i-Fag was clearly frustrated by “Tortoise”, Nowhere Man, who was suitably socialising with Virgin, Eva, whom he had made “come” (to the hash), so much so that they seemed to be going nowhere. This was foiling i-Fag‘s projections and predicted e.t.a.s. After his own mathematical blunders he needn’t have worried as the distances were going to be less anyway. Even on Doomsday the Tortoise wins, and Nowhere Man got his 25 patch.

So now at the circle there was an ominous re-emergence of drinking arm casts, a conjunct idea of Pretty Woman and Dazed & Confused with the wise advice of the Tianjing HHH. When drinking with the arm cast most are doomed to fail as happened to Dog Pounder and Petting Zoo. Accused for having to wet the environment during the run such failure could only w(h)et their appetites, ie mouths, (and clothes) for more beer. For abandoning the walkers, (or maybe for the lame excuse, as she clearly wasn’t lame)… Cumshot had to drink from the cock of (lame) shame.
i-Fag, amongst many accusations, was not only accused of bad maths but also of bad “letters”. He was overhead to agree that “69” was the best “number” in the “alphabet”. Speaking of “69” Nut Pirate, who had already informed the scribe that he could only stay 10 minutes for the circle, half an hour later, accused Slave for Shaft and Pretty Woman for disgusting 69 ish behaviour. Nut Pirate was then accused for being able to make that accusation.

Nut Pirate may have been lucky he didn’t then stay on for on-food. The information from Hash Cash is, that this week the cost per head at the restaurant was “down” on last week, Unfortunately the quality of food was also “down” and some hashers couldn’t keep the food “down”.

Maybe this really was “Doomsday”.

On On