The Ripper & The Trapper
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Now we are in the grip of winter, with dark cold foggy nights, it’s not just a bit spooky that we have allowed the infamous Jack the Ripper to lead us down cobbled alleyways and flagstone paths dimly lit by hissing gas lamps. Memories are long and extremely vivid when we think back to November 1888; Whitechapel, London with 5 murders to his unknown true name, and the fact that all the London Bobbies were unable to catch our murderous villain.
Thus without being caught he undoubtedly shagged his murderous DNA back into the gene pool in these shady, squalid streets.
And where do you think that Australia collected most of its handpicked early settlers? Think no longer. From the seedy criminal back streets of Whitechapel and East London, the exact same locale where our villain carried out his dastardly deeds.
Henceforth anyone who claims their ancestry back to this period and carries the name of Jack is sure to be a direct reincarnation of this villainous fiend from Whitechapel. And now of course, as we all know he resides within the bosom fold of the POSH hash. And NO one has given it a moment’s thought…I’ll bet!.
Well, it’s time we did. This is very serious stuff. The fact that he oozes such suave charm and has engaging manners belies the fact that as a ruthless bank manager he was able to amass millions off poor innocent civilians to live a life of pure luxury and indulgence. My, My; How times have changed?.
And then we have Jack the Ripper’s conspirator, a person whose moniker and alleged profession would have you believe that he is all warm, soft and cuddly like a teddy bear. Again, DO NOT delude
yourselves! Although his name is a ‘nom du lappin’…(if you get the drift…sniff.!) this man is all about advantageous opportunities, by whatever means, so it was no surprise that when the dastardly and entrepreneurial Jack the Ripper rang Monsieur Le Lappin that the conversation went something like this……..
“Mate…How’s the old time rabbit poaching and game killing going? Are you still eking out a living off selling dead rabbits? And what about m’luds estate game keeper….surely he’s always breathing down your neck. You’ll get nicked one of these days, won’t you?
“Yeah Jack, It’s all hard work, although the meat is always fresh “for a pie” …if youse knows wot oi mean? I wish I had your knack of piling in the money whilst having a great time. You always did get away with absolute murder!”
“Look mate, you’re catching the wrong fucking rabbits and I’ve got a proposition for you. There’s a good mate of mine over in the States and he’s looking for a REAL Rabbit catcher….not some two bit, skinflint, buck skinning poacher.
Get real mate, and have some fun at the same time…just like me. It’s dead easy! His name is Hugh something-or-another and he wants’ to fill up his mansion with real cuddling rabbits,..actually he calls them bunnies..House Bunnies. Would you like to have ago?”
Young Bunny Trapper before being converted by the notorious Jack the Ripper
“Sure would” came the reply a little anxiously “What do I need to do Jack?
“Change animal species, and start catching humans (like me), ….real live young female humans and dress them up as bunnies…Get it?. And then we’ll make some serious money and we can also enjoy some “hot moist bunny pie” any time we want. It’s just that easy. I’ll give Hugh a tinkle right now and let him know you’re on the way. It’s all done!
And that’s another true hash story of how Bunny Trapper came to be Hugh Heffner’s “Lappin du Maison”, and the how the House Bunny was conceived …in a manner of speaking.
Naturally enough when Jack heard about your press hack being hot on his trail, he immediately switched the run venue from the dark dingy and foggy cobblestoned alleyways in the Rocks, to outer suburbia; on the fringes of Manly. A place with a degree of anonymity and blandness for fear that the hash pack suspecting he would murder a couple of innocent civilians whilst setting the trail would then blame it on his hash mates.
And so with his paperwork and map all squared up for the TM and looking as cool and unflappable as a smooth talking, cold hearted, pathological mass murderer usually is, he welcomed the hash to his ‘Tour of Darkened Terror, all “aided and abetted” by the now sheepish looking Rabbit Fancier, to coin a phrase.
As soon as the pack had swallowed their fear and lit their lamps, they nervously headed out into the haunted and half empty suburban darkened streets. But he (Jack) couldn’t help himself, as the trail directed us around the few dark narrow Victorian alleyways and streets of Manly. What else would you expect with all the villainous passion from his previous 1888 incarnation?. And so we sprinted and scurried our way through eerie, haunted places like Strangler Street, Murder Mews, Corpse Close, Lifeless Lane, Serial Circuit and Ripper Road.
With the spooks hopefully behind us we then headed out for more open country away from the dead end streets and dark corners …Phew! But not for long. Just like every pathological psycho mass murderer, Jack (and his cuddly rabbit catching accomplice) couldn’t help themselves. He had to show us his “victim score” by running us through Manly Cemetery …with his victims’ headstones clearly identified with a little “↑” chalked on it. By this time however we were suitably emboldened and crossing ourselves for their eternal peace we moved on. Little Shit shone his “you beaut Costco” brilliant torch across the graveyard and vaporized the ghosts. Spud trundled on dazed by the brilliance of it all.
Now, one can generally size up how long hares have slipped into cozy retirement. It is as if with the all vacant days and hours that their memory of hash trail setting is hazed out with the onset of amnesia. The check backs were a little confusing to say the least, with on-trail arrows set no more than a few metres beyond. Be that as it may we applied our cunning intellect and vast collective experience to “join the dots” to follow the run trail.
Lastly we “chanced” upon the familiar Kenneth Road and a very long road to home to a chilled bucket on a cold clear night. All up it was a good run through Jack and the Rabbit Catcher’s favourite country. And thanks too to Music Man ‘our stand in-stand up’ TM for the night so that Salty could “enjoy a night off” his usual duties.
The last highly promoted and vaulted Thai dinner (Run No. 2395 with Simmo & Flying Virgin the Thai Nine) was its own antithesis. Need we say more?. But not this time. We didn’t have to play second fiddle to a few public interlopers. Without the fanfare of the previous Thai dinner, our hares had arranged the restaurant for the exclusive patronage of the POSH; the food arrived directly on time, courtesy of the Thai Chef’s spunky sister, Belinda (hardly a Thai name) and although not dished up in traditional hash quantities, it was fresh n’ tasty. Depending on one’s heat tolerance it was a chillified dinner culminating in the curried fish dish, of ‘ring stinger’ proportions, clearly to ensure that your average hashman’s daily bowel movement was similarly exercised. Although word has it that the mastermind behind the night’s show was our scheming Jacko Ripper Boy, the in-house (Maison du Lappin) rabbit catcher was an invaluable part of the night’s ensemble. All credit to the two of them.
On sad and somber note, Moishe paid homage to the POSH on the passing last Saturday of our long standing hash mate Larry Adler or simply known as “Milt. Milt was one of those blokes who has been around for so long that he was ‘POSH’. But his tragic cycling accident earlier this year has brought a salutary reminder that we are, after all, mortal and that we should celebrate the wonderful times that this organization brings to us each week and every year. Milt’s funeral will be held at Ann Wilson Chapel, Mona Vale; 12.00 Noon Saturday 20th July.
Your Hash Journo