His Nuts Exposed

Hello, my name is Giuseppe, Giuseppe Verdi. My dear friend Roasted Nuts has aska me to do full expose on his private parts of his life. Well it alla started when he was little, you see he was borna. His mother, he was Madonna and his father, she was Silvio Berlusconi. They were very prouda of the little Roasted Nuts as they likea to call him. Madonna, he was heading offa for to do new singing album and, after covering little Roasted in the olive oil, threw him to Silvio. "Here, catcha the little bastard. I havea to go and do new album" he saya.

Silvio, stupid pricka, she droppa Roasted on his little noggin. Madonna, he say, "What da matter you?, he could getta the damaged braina!". Just then little Roasted saya his first words, "She'll be right mate!", which confirmed he had a serious brain damage and had turned into an Australian. Silvio was so startled he droppa the little bastrad on his noogin againa (also, remember he was still covered in the olives oil). Again, big worry, until worst fear were confirmed, Roasted she saya, "On On!". Yes - a hasher!

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Excuse me, this is anon, I have managed to grab the keyboard back off Guiseppe and can now faithfully record the events that unfolded earlier this evening. First of all, I take exception to the inference that Australians and Aussie Hashers in particular are dumb, after all my brother is at Harvard Medical School - I grant you they have his head in a bottle of fomaldehyde but it still counts.

When roasted said he was setting the run and that we would be pleasantly surprised we waited with bated breath, at least, I could smell bait on someone's breath. The first surprise of the night was Love Bra stuffing around whilst we were all freezing to death - no surprise really. He did turn up without his clothes - but again no surprise, he was probably in a religious trance.

The Run

The running pack quickly divided into groups: frbs, mrbs lrbs and just b's. I am not sure which was which but I saw Running Bare, Trust Me and Serial Killer disappear into the night. Frosty was pleading for guidance in this most alien of burbs and as TM ran off he promised "Trust Me" and ditched her like a sack of spuds.

It soon became apparent what RN's surprise was: he actually had marked the run. Shock! Horror! Shark eats quads! Thw way he marked it was even more of a surprise.

RN's contributions to Hash Run Marking:
1. set the same run for walkers and runners - ground breaking stuff!
2. constantly switch the trail from one side of the road to the other - inspired!
3. have us zig-zagging every busy freeway in Chatswood - extreme sport!
4. Placing the arrows underneath rocks and on top of walls - pure Roasted Nuts!

Anyway to cut a long story short, by the time the runners got back their nerves were frayed and in need of a drink. I am sure All Day had a car bumper bar embedded in his spine but it didn't seem to worry him as he Frosty made the hasher with two backs and one bumper bar. That is, they brought out the esky.

The Walk

It was the same as the run except in weird kind of slow motion so ditto fooorrr abooovve. It was noted that some of the walkers/runners were dressed in walking/running clothes but actually ran/walked (is that clear?). This sort of cross dressing is bloody filthy and we would respectfully request Hashers to do the normal type of cross dressing particularly if frilly underwear is involved and ... sorry I digress.

The Circle

Love Bra still hadn't found his clothes and was still in the trance - then we found out why. He had been communicating with the POTW Brengun who sadly died with the POTW T shirt still on. Brengun's message from the afterlife was: "Avoid sex, grog and.." sorry crossed line - his actual message was that we owed him $4.53 for the scabby flagon of sherry he had on his run last year. Thus confirming that Brengun is still POTW, even after death.

Handjob demostrated her interest in astronomy by bending over and taking pictures of what could only have been the mythical planet of Heranus. Plugher and Ozi fought it out to be beer wench. They compromised and swapped undies instead. Which was no good to either of them as they had been using them to strain the drinks for the down-downs and were soggy and hard to keep on their heads.

Plugher was getting excited and started shining her spot light on peoples crotches. She wanted to know if Running Bare was a vegetarian as he seemed to have a big cucumber and a couple of potatoes in his trousers. At this remark Running Bare went screaming off into the night clearly offended. When his twin brother, a decent chap in comparison, came to pick him up he was prevailed upon to stay for the on-on and regale us with his fascinating stories.

On up in and Down

Roasted gave a marvelous speech (along the lines of, "Hey!, stop pissing on the footpath!") and concluded by inviting us all in for a fair dinkum aussie BBQ. Some went up the side but Malaysia, Good Vibrator, Sin Quick and Call Girl went up the rear (by the way, where is UTR, haven't seen him for months).

When we got there we found Fookarwee and No Way had already eaten all the BBQ so roasted made us all some of the best lasagna that All Day has ever eaten and eaten and eaten. As we all watched in amazement we missed our chance because All Day moved over to the ante pasto and polished that off as well. And a fine meal he declared it. Luckily RN had one more trick up his sleeve and was able to mix up a gruel of nuts, passionfruit and dead insects from his honey traps in the garden.

During All Day's meal there was a free and frank discussion of almost every possible topic. The only question left unanswered was "Why would an attractive and intelligent woman such as Flesh Gordon want to join the Hash?" That is probably a question only Giuseppe Verdi can answer.

More than I can running bare

You don't know what it means to turn up to a well organized hash run with the warm friendly faces of your fellows welcoming you to a night of fun and frivolity. I will tell you what it means: you have turned up at the wrong f$%king event.

Running Bare turned up late. He would be late for his own funeral - something we are going to put to the test real soon. As it turned out he had an indecent excuse: he had been combing his pubic hairs because he thought he was the "hair" for the night.

Love Bra quickly brought order from chaos and was about to bring something else out but was prevailed upon in the name of all that is holy, to restrain himself. After a few more minutes of this kind of drivel there was a spontaneous eruption of hasherdom. Spurting toward the start like a man who has just had his prostate re-bored, the hashers moved as one.

The collection of onlookers gave encouragement from the sidelines like "f%5k off you wankers!!" and other supportive statements.

First Checkpoint

Cinderalla and Trust Me arrived at the first check which was up near the Synagogue. Trust Me was heard to enquire of the two armed guards in what he thought was good Hebrew, "votre grenouille a mangé mon déjeuner" which is actually French for "your frog ate my lunch". Anyway, about the time the guards started shooting, Cinderalla yelled out "On On" and Trust Me escaped with his life (oh well...).

Following a poorly marked trail the runners found themsleves caught in the middle of the pristine forests (or rather "pisstine" due to leaking sewer pipes) of West Gordon. The excitement proved too much for All Day and Frosty. Hand Job quickly leaped into action and made Frosty do up her Running Bra (no, not a cross between Running Bare and Love Bra, yuk). So All Day was saved from a bad case of lactose intolerance.

etc, etc until we got to:

The Port Stop

This is where the visitors came into their own. They seem to have picked up some bad manners from the Harriets as they proceeded to drink themsleves insensible (mostly on water) and have polite conversation with several of the Wanderers. Thank goodness the Wanderers (eg Osmosis, Hand Job et al) remembered their hash manners and got so pissed they were unable to carry out their normal duties of carrying back the equipment.

The runners (Running Bare, Trust Me and Cinderella) saved the day by sending the walkers packing whilst they finished off all the grog and still managed to beat the walkers home even though they are a pack of short-cutting bastards.

The Circle

It was here that those who had not previously disgraced themselves stepped up to the plate. Because of censorship laws I cannot describe what hapenned and also I can't remember having taken a bad musk stick at the port stop. Suffice to recite the names and tremble: Flesh Gordon, No Way, Sin Quick, Fookarwee, PlugHer, R Sole and some others who shall remain anonymous because they paid me a few bucks to keep them out of it.

Prick Of The Week

We had some terrible news at the circle. Brengun has died of blood poisoning from the POTW shirt. They said when they first tried to bury him he objected claiming he wasn't dead. They thought for a moment and remembered what a filthy liar Brengun was and buried him promptly. Naturally we were all very sad to hear they buried the f$%king shirt with him. That shirt will be missed.

On On and In and Out

The chef was flown in fom Thigh Land for the occasion. She had the nicest pair of thighs I had seen in some time but when I clapped eyes on her breasts I knew straight away I would order the chicken curry. Within about 5 minutes of first arrival the complement reached critical mass. You can tell when this happens because all the other patrons become critical, push back their chairs in digust and start saying things like "that really is beyond the pale" or "F#$%k off you wankers" depending on whether they come from Roseville or Lindfield.

The wine flowed freely, at least down Ozi's greasy gullet. Those of us within the splash zone managed to get keep up a maintenance dose though. Finally came time to pay the bill. Thank heavens I was able to piss off through the dunny window.

All in all a completely shithouse night was had by all. We will be back next week for something worse.

Anon

300 Runs (plus something else) under my belt

In the absence of Anon the Writer - here is a brief report on the 300th Run.

A huge thank you to those who travelled from near and far and braved the weather on Monday night for the Wanderers 300^th run - it would not have been the success it was nor would there have been so much fun and frivolity without you all!

A very special thank you to the visitors (in order of appearance):

GPS

Psycho (Anonymous - please forward to Psyco - ta)

Low Profile

Hairy Twotter (sent to all Thirsty - dont have your individual address)

Bigamist

Thank you to the Hair – Fookawee and co-Hair - Ossmozzes. They set the run Sunday afternoon, went off to have pizza and beer came out and the sky had opened up and washed away all those lovely little four feet, so off to the printer for the printing of maps. And what a great sparkling wine, port and lolly stop which included marinated Liqueur oranges (courtesy of Love Bra or should that be JaneBond - was there a hint of Cointreau?) - sooo nice - no one wanted to leave the spot!

Thank you to the Trail Master, Bondi and his helper Trust Me, with the help of the trusty maps, marked the way - they almost got it exactly right! Congratulation to those who got a little bit geographically embarressed and found their way back to on-home without arrows or maps (or gps's).

Thank you to the Beer Mistress, Frosty and her helper AllDaySuckHer – who did get it exactly right.

Thank you to BrenGun for being Prick of the Week. The POW shirt is also nicely marinated with unmentionable substances.

Thank you to GPS for the gps maps and photos - and his thanks (see below)!

Thank you to Bigamist for keeping Low Profile, Flauntits and Hand Job out late.

Photos on: Photostream: http://www.flickr.com/photos/babs01/

Photos, courtesy of Psycho, of the Wanderers Red Dress Run 2010, have just been added to flickr also.

cheers and ononinon

Hand Job

And Harlot - hope the head bump is ok!?

Killerhillscratchedmypills

THE KILLER HILL RUN 2010 (thats the year not the run number)

(attached is evidence that there really is a killer hill in Eastwood)

Karma was very wise to stay home and look after those lovely legs of hers, first late comer - Running Bear - took one look at hill number one - then decided it was less stressful to go play with traffic on Victoria Road; the second late comer -or did they come together - Ashmore stayed rugged up and listened to the footie on his car wireless. WANKERS - not you Karma.

The pack gathered – ho de hum – the RA formed the circle and introductions were made - there was a visitor from the Solomon Islands – Serial Killer - how appropriate on the night of the Killer run – 2 more visitors were to join this Killer run later.

Instructions were given by TART and his newly appointed co-hare In Quick. In Quick and a TART there has to be something said for that feel good relationship. TART handed out maps - Trust Me was beside himself (just the two of him) when he found to his horror the maps were laminated – thought it might have been raining lamented TART. Acting Trail Master Trust Me found the stiffness not to his liking - rubbing through his pocket onto the inside of his leg.

Off the pack set, runners and walkers together till they passed the railway station at Cheltham then THE split. One hill after another. . . . then something different another hill, bushland and steps, down down - up up. Out of the bush onto more streets and more hills. The runners walkers crossed over – cant be too much further but it was. There was a cry ‘are you’ and out of the mist stepped two foreign spies – Local Knowledge from the UK and JustChris all the way from Fairlight, Sydneys Northern Beaches. They were also late coming together but caught up with the pack with some ingenious short cuts and no local knowledge.

When it looked like the Killer Hill was just a TART fantasy there it was – ohh ahh’s were exclaimed then up up up and a most magnificent sight to behold – TART and In Quick with the resuscitation package – oxygen - port/lollies/lemonade - an esky full of ice – how thoughtful on a cold night. AllDay proceeded to open the lemonade only to have it spray all over Hand Job - must have been the high altitude – AllDay removed the offending liquid from Hand Jobs clothing and body parts the best he could.

The hashers admired the city lights of EastWood – then it was off – walkers runners together. Trust Me with his laminated map used his genious and chalk to mark a long runner trail to on home. The walkers set off at a fast pace - needed a run up to get down the first hill.

On on and on home. Well set run - walkers/runners getting to the bucket within 10 minutes of each other. At the bucket Local Knowledge noticed he had slashed his tyre mmmm - how many hashers does it take to change a tyre!

The circle formed and the RA called for the walkers report - Ossie expressed himself admirably and gave the run a number out of 10. Running Bear was called to give the runners report - in true RB's reporting style it appeared that RB was somewhere else tonight - he is a volunteer for the hash trash make-it-up-as-you-go writers wrag reporter for the year 2011. A score was a 10+ for an excellent virgin run set by a non-virgin in virgin Wanderer Territory. A down down to the hare and his happy helper IQ. The visitors were welcomed. Down downs to the late comers, RB and Ashmore. A down down from Hand Job to TART and In Quick for same sex love letters. Fookawee did a fine job as acting song mistress, the assistant male beer wench persisted when others would have given up and hash flash #2 AhSole was a happy snapper. It was discovered all too late that the Prick T Shirt was still in its fumigation bag courtesy of Australian Customs.

Then it was on off to the West Ryde hotel for the onon - but they heard there were rabble rousers approaching and quickly locked and barred the doors. The search was on for an alternative onon - one was found in the form of the West Ryde Chinese Restaurant - best chinese food this side of China - which just happened to be right next door to the adult fun shop Funtasia. Much frivolity prevailed at the onon then it was on over. Here endeth another funtastic Wanderers night of hashing.

onon

Anon the Writer

Ozziemozziemyarseisitchy

Phones ringing – Be there in a minute says Frosty – AllDay and I are coming together tonight – AllDay is just searching for the right spot to park his vehicle. Flauntits moans into her phone Where the F*ckRWe – Nah this is not Fookawee - Hand Job here – just follow AllDay – he is on the right track heading for the right spot. The hash crowd descends upon the peaceful streets of Pymble, including the renowned hasher Bigamist visiting from the Hashing Hall of Fame.

Over here, NOW - instructs Ossmozzes. Ohhh he must be having a bad hare day. Form a tight circle says the RA LoveBra. A circle of dubious quality forms. Pieces of white paper with pink and blue drawings are handed out by the Hair – Ossie has been in therapy again. The Hair must be on a mission tonight - or perhaps a promise – no formal proceedings by the RA – no introduction of visitors or hash prayer and 1/2 ar*ed instructions given. Maybe, then again maybe not, you will see arrows and if no arrows like this – scribble scribble on the pavement – then you may or may not see tiny inseewinsee – more words from Ossies therapy class, flour feet. And YES, there is a devine port stop after you venture through the grassy field. Nice – there have been port stops on Grassy Knolls, Grassy Knobs and now Grassy Fields.

With Ossies therapy paperwork firmly clutched in hot little hashing hands off the pack set following Ossie to the corner. A Sergeant Major would have been proud of Ossie’s about turn – heels clicking – only follow me if you want to go straight to the port stop. And off he stomped. MMMM, perhaps should look at these pieces of paper more closely. MMMM yes they do resemble a map. Walkers blue line, Runners Pink line or could be vice versa. Smart lot hashers.

Runners and walkers together then the first W & R Split. The runners lead by the FRB's and Ossies Artwork, the walkers lead by the QWB and Ossies Artwork. Up and down some streets, Lookie Lookie Ossies tiny inseebinsee flour feet showing us the way twitters Fookawee - perhaps she also is ready for therapy - on on, ring ring no hasher in their right frame of mind answers the phone on a run obviously Karena was out of her frame - yes if you go a little bit left then a little bit right then keep coming you will find the right spot - I will be waiting for you - oh dear - onon up - on down till inon through the Grassy Field to the DPS (Divine Port Stop). There dispensing the priceless Port perched upon a devine wooden stump, was Ossie - with hash hare helper Fookawee dispensing the sweets. Everyone was really impressed with Ossies Stump. Enough fun has been had here - right go - left grumbled Mr On-a-Mission Hare keep marching until you see the R & W split - dont dawdle. Bigamist who had been a FRB had now become a QWB - he could no longer forge ahead as his mind kept wandering back to Fookawee and her sweets. Then it was OnOn home to where it had all begun 3/4 of an hour before.

Frosty with helper AllDaySuckHer were there dispensing the much longed for infusion of alcoholic beverage. The RA brought the rabble rousing rabble to attention. The RA welcomed the visitors - Bigamist - Larrikins and Bad Habits - Thirsty. The RA called for a runners report - Bigamist volunteered with the help of a little push into the circle from an unidentified hasher. Articulated dribble was forthcoming from the run reporter - Wanderers should take note on how to deliver such crap so eloquently. 8+ minus plus blah blah blah equals. . . . the walkers report was delivered by LoveBra but no one cared. Plus/Minus/Plus = -10 + runners report = +10.

The usual down down was given to the hare for a more crappie than usual run with Flauntits acting as acting assistant Beer Wench - Pluggher has been called away to visit some far off land with the initials U and K. Some charges from the circle - too memorable to mention. It was almost over then . . . . a naming. Karena for being outside her frame of mind in answering the mobile on a run/walk. Ashmore being the gentleman he is - puk - tried very hard to put words in the right order to make a sentence as to why Karena should be named CALL GIRL. A unanimous nod of hash heads confirmed that Ashmore had indeed got his words in the right order. The ground was prepared with the spillage of beer, the RA did his thing that was invested in him to perform a naming. Karena forever after from here onin will be known as CALL GIRL.

It was nearly all over. . . then . . . . Frosty stepped into the Circle. On tippy toe Frosty did a jiggy jiggy around the circle putting HER sentences together as to why Shane should be named In Quick. Came to hash as a virgin was in like Flynn from day one, bought the Tshirt to prove it. Great name In Quick = IQ = a big fat ZERO. Again, the ground was prepared, beer spillage plus ice. Again the RA did his invested in him thing. Shane shall forever after from here onin be known as IQ = Zero.

Call Girl and IQ were called to gether for a photo shoot now it was all over - Almost - Bigamist was called into the circle to give the location for the June Long Weekend Joint Run - quote unquote How the F*ck would I know. Hashers are still madly Googling Whereis.com to find this location.

The Prick of the Week Shirt is still with the Prick Trust Me and on its way to Poland. Hey Marelene and Boycee will be interesting to see if it passes quarantine on the way back into Sydney.

Now it was definately on to the onin for $10 steaks and free beer which in actual fact were $11 steaks with free beer but the Pymble Hotel heard there were a number of hashers coming to dinner and they know ar*se and class when they see it - so upped the prices. But not by much.

Most hashers saw fit to eat at the main table but there was a select few who sat at a secluded table in the corner sharing . . . . what exactly. . ..

Was an excellent onin.

The following sore fit to join the Monday night onin:

JaneBond - brought class and manners to the dinner table

GayDog - same as ever - cocking his leg at every opportunity. Come back and bring PinkTitBits with you

BrenGun - obviously still too piss to pissed to travel to Ah Seoul Ah Seoul

Allison - Fookawee's daughter - too smart and too pretty to be Ossmozzes daughter

Then it was on home. . . . zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

OnOn

Anon the Writer

R I P RABBIT

This may appear to be a blantant attempt at plagerism – or some might say it is a rehash of the hash trash - Wrabbits Memorial 2009 - where names have been changed to protect the innocents who were not present in 2010 – some will say the run operated in reverse.

The group was moved along by Hand job to the corner of Carrington and Coonanbarra. Low! Looking up at us from the bitumen was Rabbit. It’s so good of him to join the group. Sadly it was further proof that departed Hashers need to look up not down to keep an eye on the living!

Hand Job gave some instructions about the run which no one understood - what another live hair night - Trust Me with trusty map and his very own trusty memory was hitting the trail and then it was ON ON.

The Two Dogs with dog handlers TightA*se and Frosty forging ahead as they sensed they were on the trail of a Rabbit.

A steep climb up Carrington, a left and a right then along Boundary. "What’s that noise behind us" said Ossmozzes to Fookawee. "Can’t hear anything" responded Fookawee. She was a little worried about Ossie, He is retired now you know…"All that time spent at home" she thought "perhaps he is losing it"

"There it is again" exclaimed Ossie gasping at the second check point in Cliff Ave." A sort of soft regular pumping sound!"

"Sigh" murmured Fookawee to herself " Regular pumpings! Oh those were the days when we had regular pumpings, we are very fortunate though – there have been 10 days of Pumping Rock at Uluru."

Meanwhile Running Bear, BrenGun, AllDay, Tart and Frosty were further ahead As they entered the lane connecting Morris Ave and Junction St. Love Bra turned to Shane and gasped - Why all the muttering and groaning " "Never said a word" responded Shane

Down into the Two Dogs Park, a mystical trail of candles glowed softly, a ephemeral figure floated above the radiance, Buddha? Virgin Merry? No it was Hand Job sitting on a bench dispensing an inner warming spirituality,---- a thermos – tea perhaps – hot mead to sooth the inner hasher.

After several meads, alleged Baileys, and a nice drop of Stickys and some minties and chocs - a strange feeling of being watched crept over the Hashers. "Could Rabbit be watching?" Ventured No Way. We all moved a little closer to the candle light----and had another drink. With a boost of courage off we went to finish the run.

Burns Road: A thump, thump, thump, a mangled string of curses, in terror Running Bare raced ahead completely missing the Check – a Frosty curse has been put upon RB and On On Back to arrive at Carrington Park closely followed by Karena who had turned briefly to take a flash of the pursuing demon.

Ozzmosis and Fookawee, still a little worn out from 10 days at The Uluru Rock warmly welcomed returnees Hard On and Pussy who in turn were a little worn out from their 6 weeks in Tassie chasing tigers – no rock to pump in Tassie.

After the usual pointless down downs - I have been hashing for exactly a year - the Rabbit run was my very first time exclaimed TART to anyone who would listen but sadly nobody was.

The prick of the week shirt to Trust Me - just for - being a prick. The other hashers breathed a sigh of relieve - have you seen the state of that shirt.

the hashers repaired to the Waitara Kitchen to eat, drink and be merry in rememberance of Wrabbit and to celebrate JaneBond and Karena’s birthdays - an excellent On On

Trust Me remembered the flash. He gasped in amazement, we all gazed in wonder.

Rabbit had been with us on the run!!!!!!!!

onon

Anon The Writer

Red Dress Run