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RUN REPORTS 2011(See Hash History Page for Years 2010 and previous years)

Also some more Red Dress pictures from Steamer - see Run 1211


RUN NO: 1215 - Hare - Big Mac


RUN NO: 1214 - Hare - Just In


RUN NO: 1213 - Hare - Just Say When

What an excellent run! Just Say When did an excellent job filling in at the last minute as hare for this week as our M.I.A. haremeister had failed to let the GM, the webmaster and the rest of us know who was haring this weeks run. I’m sure their will be plenty of ice ready for Tightarse’s return!

Once again a good turnout of over 30 hashers, including a virgin and a few returning visitors set off into the dry river beds of Barranco Blanco. A steep slope down to begin with saw many hashers sliding down on their arse. Pussy Galore’s pearl retriever Chloe loved it so much she went back up for a second go and pretending she was a bowling ball sweetly took out the last pin in the form of her master.

The trail made its way back up the steep valley slopes before descending once again to a river bed, this time flowing with cool water. A crafty check back brought most of the pack back together and the trail was followed along the river to the most refreshing beer stop we’ve had this year. A number of hashers promptly jumped into the pools of water. To cool off you’d think, but no, it was to retrieve the beers waiting on the bottom of the river bed. The dogs had their fun retrieving the bottles of water that kept getting thrown in.

The rest off the pack had long gone ahead once the last of us left the beer stop. Veuve Clitot had found her way back to us as she had been left behind by the hare who was supposed to be giving her a lift. Luckily the car was spotted and flagged down on the track and Veuve got her lift back.

Back at the cars, once the stragglers had finally found their way back taking the out trail in, a circle was called by assistant GM Mummy’s Boy. It was almost unanimous that everyone had enjoyed the run and the hare was awarded a well deserved 9.5, making it run of the year so far. Anniversarios were called in, Nikki Bitch 10 runs, Any Cock Will Do 15 runs, and Dogsy, the saddest bastard of them all with 1654 runs. Ok maybe a slight exaggeration, but it was a lot.

Our esteemed GM Septic took the circle as acting RA in order to cleanse us of our sins:

Mummy’s Boy and Veuve were iced for failing to hand over all the equipment to the next hare.

Big Mac and Knut awarded down downs for skipping off together holding hands and generally just being gay.

Nikki Bitch for nearly causing a mass pile up on the way to the run after she stopped on the side of the road and proceeded to strip off to change into her hash gear.

Radio Kaka, who at her birthday lunch was given a tankard with a bell on it and the slogan “ring when horny”. She left it at the restaurant so had to make to with squeezing the RA’s horn.

Gardener, our visitor for parking her car in the middle of where the circle was supposed to be and refusing to move it.

Mindy, who had to leave early to take his tablets for his mental illness.

Pussy Galore whose stolen tankard had been returned to her. Not by another hasher but by her garage who had the tankard in their lost property.

Our haremeister, not present so a look-a-like was found, for cocking up the hare line.

Wide Open was back from her travels to lead us once again in song. It was nice to have a bit of variation from the “he’s true blue..” There are songs that should be learnt by all hashers posted on this website!

Nearly 30 hashers made it to the on on at Venta Enterrios for a superb barbeque. Testicle Fester proved he’s still got it by dancing the night away with Wide Open.

On on,

Jizzical Ferk



RUN NO: 1212 - Hares - Mummy & Veuve

A group of about twenty souls braved the August midday sun to gather behind La Quinta for a feared Mummy’s Boy run.
A majority of the Committee had chosen to boycott the inevitable ball breaker that awaited. Just Say When, hash mattress, had to take the circle and introduce a couple of virgins – no doubt destined not to return after the experience that awaited. Dipper had been called out of retirement to stand in for RA. Initially he went unrecognised having lost umpteen kilos as a result of a special diet which cut out all food, drink and sex. His weight loss was appreciable but he was miserable. 

Mummy’s Boy was at pains to point out that, meteorogically speaking, 1400hrs was cooler than 1700hrs, particularly inland, and most especially near La Quinta due to the Previous night’s full moon, high tide and the general land heating effect.  This was met with looks of incredulity as it was common knowledge that only mad dogs and Englishmen venture out in the midday sun. The choice of time was more likely to be linked to forthcoming TV viewing schedules.  The hare then continued his pack of lies by promising a run up a gentle incline in the shade. This was a deliberate attempt to mislead the hapless hashers. The gentle incline got steeper and steeper. The pack got more and more breathless and St Johns Ambulance were put on standby. Remarkably almost all the pack made it to the summit where Mummy’s Boy had positioned the beer stop. Even the fit and fearless front runners were at a loss for words as they replaced the sugar and salt .

After what seemed like an hour the last of the walkers was winched up. Mummy’s Boy had another surprise in store – a macho second half which he would lay as a live hare. This was optional as there was a women and wimps option as well as a lift in the beer wagon. Never in the history of hashing have such scenes been witnessed as hashers fought over the 3 seats available in the beer wagon. The scenes were reminiscent of a refugee camp. The macho trail was just that as we crawled, clawed, slid  and scrambled through prickly undergrowth up and down steep inclines and along precipitous ledges. How someone as fat and round as Mummy’s Boy could lay such a trail defied both logic and gravity. Big Mac, your scribe, managed to get lost at the final check and tried to follow the cries of Just Say Gwen instead of the trail. This led him to the edge of a swamp! A U turn was called for.

 The circle was held in much more agreeable temperature with more shade available and a cooler breeze. Just Say Gwen whispered us to order and conducted the scoring of the run. There were mixed opinions but everyone was agreed that much effort had gone into the making of the trail. In the end 7.1 was recorded. Dipper then took over the proceedings and doled out down downs for various misdemeanours. Voyeurism was rife both on and off the hash. Hobble Gobble has been encouraging one of her neighbours to expose and play with himself and Nikki Bitch was not exposing enough of herself while Psychedelic showed off a little to much of his booty. Then it was time to invited the birthday girl in for the traditional birthday cake, this time a slimming recipe courtesy of Dipper. The sight of all that milk and cream flowing over her gorgeous countenance was too much to bear for some hashers. Jisical Ferk was also chastised for trying to keep his birthday of the previous week a secret.

 Next week’s run is a mystery as the hare raiser was a no show. Just In denied that it was he. Then it was back to Mummy’s Boy’s multi million Euro apartment for the OnOn of Paella, BBQ and Salads. Veuve Clitot was unamused that she had been instructed  to withhold the salad for so long and a domestic looked set to ensue. The food was scrummy and Big Mac then made good his escape to head to the airport to collect his good lady.


On On

 Big Mac



RUN NO: 1211 - Hares - Septic & Toxic


Just in case one happens to be reading this –  imagine you’re enjoying your once a year holiday,  blue seas and bluer skies, warm breeze,  you’re relaxing on the beach – then like seeing the scrawl of a child’s felt tip across your favourite book the hashers came in to view. This was the Red Dress run.

Blame Toxic n Septic. Planned over mucho cervezas and cheese n tomato butties they came up with the charity route around Benalmadena. 

Run signs were not necessary,  the number of red dresses milling around the parked cars was enough. There were more wigs and hairy legs than at a transvestite convention.


Cross dressers as follows:

Marilyn Runs a Boat Monroe, Dogsy Stolen Mary Hinge’s Negligee, Rowan Jizi Rascal Flashing Away, Cher lookylikey – Not Yet, 5 Knickers knuckle Shuffle, Toxic Fagstar, Septic Bootybollox, and  Crystal Irrigation


Supported by:

Suckya Swedish Porn House Cocka

Anycock’ldoo with Virgin (shortest living virgin in memory)

MaryQuanty Likey

Up Yer ARSE Bum

Veuve Where’s my Champagne? Clitot

4 Virgins,

A Mother and Daughter Act

The Russians

A Dog

A Yank ( oh god did she sleep in the car?)

And various other itinerants.


Septic, relieved not to be fucking up the GM role, didn’t let us down as hare; telling us… “on this run there will be tapases”. Tapases it is then, and through the City. The mayor will be pleased.

Kaka duly drank from the shoe while an ancient man took photos of her. Then with red dresses flapping in the 30 degree heat, we set off downhill towards (OPC) park – where several innocent onlookers were accosted for their money. No change there. 

Not just cries of ON ON! But rattle rattle  in your face from those waving Cudeca tins.

After a serious false trail the first beer stop was like an oasis for camels. Cucumber triangles were passed around. Thirst quenched, Clonk like Moses parted the traffic on the main highway (through the City) and the red convoy marched on.

More demands for Charity contributions were made in restaurants and bars along the route. In these recession times, we had to resort to sexual favours – and in some cases demands.

The second beer stop came in the form of a dip in Septic’s tank (t’was like asses milk) Toxic Bollox doing his Julia Roberts at a tea party impression,  serving us tortilla tapases. Much to the bemusement of Septic’s neighbours – who may give him a wide berth from now on.

Summer, the only dog on the hash, made an heroic effort to end her time on the train track – several hashers thinking fate was pointing at them..

Up on to another unoccupied urbanisation, at this point the collection became irrelevant. But we shook our tins boldly for the hell of it.

The third beer stop quickly followed by the next then another most of which were blue, perhaps to balance the world in the eyes of Toxic.

The boys did good with a Paella stop and had the pack in party mood by this time.

On we continued to the ultimate beer stop not forgetting we were there to gather donations for Cudeca.

One Tit (me julie)– rattling her tin,  “ahhh bollocks we can’t compete with that” pointing at the 2 youngest hashers (Anycock’ldoo + the virgin) “they’re 20 years old with nothing on.”.  So we resorted to surrounding victims at cash machines – money out and the mob swooped.

Tweetski went missing, reportedly met an old guard from the Gulag and managed to evade most of Arroyo.

Nikki Bitch quickly steamed ahead –  with no other front runners she’s clearly going  far.


Back at the circle after the sun had set and the ground started to release the day’s heat. The photos give evidence of a near orgy, but I think this was just everyone knackered and unable to walk any further.  Depends how you look at it. 

Clonk chastised anyone under the age of 21.  Our 19 year old virgin gave demonstration of before drugs n alcohol Amy with Al’s mum Amy Shitehouse, clearly showing the effects.  Don’t do it kids. NO NO NO!

Mummy’s Boy was berated for not finding a size 28 red dress and Veuve was convinced she was Fernando Torres. More Winehouse evidence that you should go to rehab.


So the hashers had fun and hopefully we raised more than 42 euros for Cudeca. And from Not Yet Cher (but working on it) a reminder that life is short and precious.


ON ON Shaggi