Run 2269 – 20th Dec 2010 – Sydney Hash House Harriers

“Lone” Khyber and his good pal “Tonto” Wrappa – A Circulation from Belrose Model Aeroplane Airfield
POSH Tribune MEMO
Google Earth : Run 2269

Subject: Tales of the Misfits

From Douglas Macaroni

To Bwana Matata

Date 22-12-2010

Bwana Matata ….…What the heck is going on in that off beat running club?

With all the Hash sporting activates you told me about, namely running, jogging hiking, cycling, kayaking, and golfing I would have thought that the SH3 would be full of hairy chested, muscle bound athletes. So far this year all I have read about is about a bunch of aging Baby Boomer old men with not just a little impairment and impediment from crook knees, hips and backs, amnesia and generally burned out and decrepit bodies.

Then your journo file for last week was all about some poncy, pseudo intellectual who sounded more like Lord Marmaduke of Bunkerton –aka- Lord Snooty (and his pals) of Beano fame. Photo attached. A right little Pommy prick as I recall. Aren’t there any true red blooded athletes and adventurers left in the SH3?

[slideshow id=3]

Lord Marmaduke of Bunkerton

Dear Degenerate Douglas

You are absolutely right about the physical and mental condition for most of the POSH Hash, but a little athleticism still prevails. In fact there is quite an adventurer in the Posh Hash. He’s hashed in Darwin, Malaysia, the jungles of Borneo, Shanghai, Perth and so many other places. He’s also hiked across the wild and soggy southern parts of South Island NZ, around the south coast of Tasmania, across the Snowy Mountains and up and over the Great Carnarvon Gorge. It’s no wonder they call him Jungle Jim.

One early story of his exploits has it that Jungle Jim was intent on finding a white girl somewhere in darkest Africa who was the heiress to a huge fortune. He had to make sure that this dark haired, leopard skin bikini clad, forest dwelling love interest received the news of her fabulous inheritance from ‘Jungle’ himself first and ‘all alone’.

Jungle Jim had to race against time and hostile jungle conditions to reach her before
another dastardly group of machete wielding desperados arrived before him to kill her and claim the inheritance instead.

[slideshow id=4]

The original, the authentic, the adventurous JJ

[slideshow id=5]

Jungle Jim’s Love Interest

And with a name like that you might imagine some 6’ 4” big, burly bastard with a swash buckling knife hanging from his broad leather belt.

So ……..Come face to face with the original, the authentic, the adventurous and sexually magnetic Jungle Jim.

But the true Jungle Jim of today, now well into his 60’s, is no longer the stuff of Boys Own adventure books. He is all of 1.6 metres tall –whilst standing on a couple of telephone directories- wears well pressed business trousers, crisp white shirts and a snappy tie to offset his professional deportment. In fact he is something of a sophisticated suburban gentleman these days, pleasantly adjusted to city life. After “landing” his wealthy Jungle Girl and taming her to his harbour waterfront tree house, he settled down to become a ‘Civilised Engineer’.

Word has it that he is even intelligent; he lectures at a university part time and instead of hacking away at forest vines, shooting tigers and wrestling pythons, he is often to be found in the Longueville Bowling Club Bar chatting up the sweet young “eye candy” barmaids and sipping chilled beers on many Friday evenings.

The modern day Jungle Jim is now the epitome of the 21^st century “metro-sexual” male. He has changed his spots and is now King of the Concrete Jungle.

Yours in Total Disappointment,

Bwana Matata

PS Douglas….As it’s Christmas & the New Year I’m fucking off for a couple of weeks. You can either find someone else to do the dirt digging or wait for me to return. However you will see from the run schedule (which I just managed to get hold of) that there aren’t any proper SH3 runs so I doubt if many hashmen will be around for me to report on their “dirty linen”. I’ll continue to post you my files after 10^th January 2011.

Report on Run 2269, 20^th December 2010 ___________________________________________________________________________

A Circulation from Belrose Model Aeroplane Airfield

The Lone Khyber and his good pal “Tonto Wrappa” have been planning a run on the wild side of Belrose for some considerable time. Instead of shooting silver bullets they cut through prickly bush with long glinting silver machetes to clear overgrown paths for the well chosen trail.

The model aeroplane field is always a great venue to start from and finish at, with a variety of trails, hills and valleys to choose from. Grape helped put the Christmas run together and selected a number of previously run trails and some un-run tracks, but in a combination which kept us all guessing.

There were some long puddles to slosh one’s shoes in, burned out bush to hack through and ridge line rock outcrops with top views back to the sea, especially towards the end of the run.

And to top it off the committee had ordered some “Goldilocks weather” for our Christmas run. Cool but not cold, sunny but not hot, breezy but not windy, and only 56% humidity.

“Just Right” declared Goldilocks to Cinderella at the end of the run. And so it was!

The TM’s Run Marks.

Keeping pack together 3/5

Trail Marking 4/5

Trail interest 3/5

Moocher attraction 2/5but does any one really care?

Total 12.0

The Christmas Dinner Feeding Frenzy @ the Model Aeroplane Club

Our committee came in the form of a political party pork barrel just before Election Day with some hefty largesse.

Not only …BUT also ….

First up there was the free Christmas 2010 giveaway T shirt, beautifully inscribed with galloping hash reindeer, and a celebratory printed date.

Next was the line up at the dinner smorgasbord of cold cut meats and NO Hash Cash to separate you from your wallet – On offer was Turkey and smoked ham, a choice of salads, pickles, cranberry sauce (probably left over from JFK’s last supper), pickles, mustards and buttered bread rolls. And a wide range of sommelier selected wines to wash it all down.

The free evening ticket brought out some long time “no-see” hashmen and some others from O/S, including Mother of Pearl.. ‘welcome back!’, the on-again, off again White Shit, who is now well on his way to become a water closet engineer of sorts, Wally Grout and lastly King Arthur (rarely seen out of Manly these days).

A parade of strap on plastic boobs, blond and brunette wigs and a musical floor show sang and humoured the pack, which was followed by the weekly “joke department”. Sadly Pee Dub was unable to read his cribbed transcript without any one else’s reading glasses and so retired early after mixing three opening lines together. The moment was saved by G. de Gaul and Pilko (in Santa Claus’s red & white undies…complete with the built in cod piece) and a number of others who had all memorised their jokes and punch lines so that they could have told them blind folded.

There were way too many Down-Downs to mention, as it seemed half the pack was called to pay the penalty of a misdemeanour or two.

A top evening for all, and a great way to see in Christmas at its hash best.