Slick’s Unleaded Run Report
Good Day Gentlemen it’s been a week of returns this one.
- The Phoenix adventurers returned back to the fold with tales aplenty.
- The last of the Tasmanian wanderers (Bigamist) returned back to Sydney with a head cold and stories of happy times in the apple isle.
- A decision was made not to return to the Ranch Hotel.
- I return to Little Shit’s naming details at the end of this report.
This week’s Run No 2626 started and finished in the carpark next to the OnOn venue. The Mediterranean Marsfield restaurant. The hares for this run were Plunger and Slick.
Plunger meaning a device used by Plumbers to clear blocked drains. logic Graham was given this hash tag (by Frenchie) due to having a long and loyal work history as a 2 nd generation employee in the plumbing industry.
Slick meaning a thin layer of oil that has spread out over a large area due to a loss of containment eg ruptured pipeline. logic I have the rather dubious distinction of being so named (by Music Man) inside the haloed surrounds of a boutique brewery (managed by Frenchie’s Son in Law) because of a long pre-retirement employment history with a well-known oil company
So we are talking about Hares with some pretty messy Hash Tags here. Blocked drains! Loss of containment, oil slicks! Could this week’s run have something in common with these Plunger/Slick Hash Tags? Will we all be going home covered in oil or, heaven forbid, something worse? From a superstition viewpoint the run is on the Monday after a Black Friday 13th and the hares did a reccie for the run (with wives in tow) on the Friday. The girls were lagging behind somewhat initially until a stranger warned them that he had seen snakes in the area, then somehow they picked up their pace dramatically and had no trouble at all keeping up with the hares? Unbeknownst to the hares, the original OnOn venue, the Ranch Hotel Nth Ryde, had been in the news with a well-documented case of maggots crawling around a cooked steak that had been served to a paying customer (google el rancho maggots). So now we have a dilemma on our hands. Should we cut and run away from this place, as a venue, as quickly as possible or should we dig our heels in and stay with the venue but somehow try to avoid an all-out mutiny from the Hash troops? Let’s weigh up the management options available to us for such an issue. Stonewall No I don’t believe there is any evidence to say that those maggots really came from that establishment. Yes I have seen the video of those small yellow wiggly things crawling around that well-cooked steak but there is no proof that it actually came from their kitchen. Hard-line Tell them all to go & get f**ked! We’re going to the Ranch Hotel and that’s all there is to it. Talk it up did you realise that maggots are actually a great source of protein. When the Army have troops in the bush who haven’t eaten for three days, they recommend maggots splashed with a liberal dosing of BBQ sauce to curb any hunger pains. Lump it onto the Committee Hey guys how about we have a cook up this week? Call Pee Dub to get the trailer happening and I’ll go and buy some meat. Change the venue Start looking around, at short notice, for a venue that will seat thirty to forty hungry and sometimes rowdy Hashmen for a Monday night meal. So even though the maggot issue happened a couple of weeks ago, and there was a very good chance that the Health Dept had been through the place like a dose of the salts, it was decided that a last minute change of venue was necessary. Which is how we ended up at the Mediterranean Marsfield Restaurant and the bucket location was moved to the car park close by. The run started off from this leafy car park in Marsfield, wound through playing fields and parklands before going under the M2 and along a street to come onto bushlands. From here the trail headed westwards before crossing over Lane Cove River and heading east again. There were a total of six check backs for the runners to negotiate and one more river crossing, with slippery rocks but no oil slick, for all to cross over. Grape Ape had a most unusual run tonight. He ended up knocking on the front door of a house to ask for directions. Not only did he get those directions but the owner of the house took pity on him and gave Grape a lift in his car all the way back to the bucket. The Mediterranean Marsfield Restaurant had seating both inside and outside undercover but managed to fit the majority of the boys inside. I originally thought that this place was going to be a virgin onon for the group but Ayatollah assured me that he had held one here, with good results, a couple of years ago. The menu/food was a one size fits all deal with serving plates to pick from in the middle of the table, kicking off with salad and garlic bread. Then three different pastas to choose from and finally a selection of pizzas. Maximus Brock then gave Down Downs to;
The Hares Plunger and Slick
Spud (because he hadn’t been along to a run for a while).
Our hard working waiters for the evening Chris & Joe.
777 now got up and told a joke about soldiers getting drunk.
A new section tonight was called “On This Day Oct 16” where Hash Historian Tic Toc gave out clues to how certain famous people had died on this day and asked the group to guess who they were as he went along.
Next Week’s Run
This will be a BBQ run starting from the Manly Warringah Baseball Club which is just east of the Warringah Aquatic Centre. The hares are White Shit and Centre Point
PS In last week’s run report I made mention to the fact that I was not sure just how Little Shit came by his Hash Tag. A few days later I received an email from Tic Toc who explained in fascinating detail the events surrounding his naming. So with his kind permission I have copy and pasted the naming details here;
You ask the rhetorical question: how did Little Shit get so named? As I remember it, and it is undoubtedly to be confirmed after the 50-year embargo expires, and should Major Disaster not personally invoke a Major’s Call veto, the said gentlemen, with a heart of lead, used to play tin soldier war games with the said Major Disaster. The Major has an entire wing of Disaster Towers at Warrawee Heights devoted to various historical battles, replete with authentically sculptured terrain, fox holes, obstacles, detritus, little yet powerful cannon, and battalions of fodder dressed colourfully in regimental uniform and armed with tiny Baker flintlock rifles. At the throw of the dice the battle would commence. At its conclusion, sometimes taking several hard-fought days and knights, and the winner declared (the one causing the most deaths to the other side, with accompanying, blood, gore-immersed human flesh and the unbearable grief of their distraught mothers) the combatants would enjoy a couple of schooners of VSOP rum before the loser faded off into the night to lick his wounds. The loser, who was never on home battleground, was invariably the Hashman who aspired to be The Hero of Waterloo, but was more accurately known as Loowater’s Ghost. Coming-to after an athletic Hash dash thru the backstreets of Neutral Bay one winter’s evening, at the OnOn ensconced within The Oaks, on the occasion of the Presidential Hash Harangue by then revered President, Moonbeams, Loowater’s Ghost naturally wanted to chat to another Poshman about other subjects deemed more important. President Moonbeams spun round to locate the source of the irrelevant, interruptive and impertinent chatter, and cried in tones that would wake in fright John Meillon who was dozing in an adjacent bar, “LG, you’re A LITTLE SHIT !!”. The gathered multitude responded as one, “LITTLE SHIT, LITTLE SHIT, LITTLE SHIT….” even chorused by two aged spinsters enjoying a couple of thimbles of medicinal brandy in the corner, overlooking Military Road & Yeoman Street as it happened …and somehow the name seemed, well, just right. But inside that chastened breast beats a heart of gold….
OnOn Tic Toc