Volume 43, Issue 1 | April 22, 2024

RECEDING HARELINE

Run No.	Date	Hare Apparent	On On
2280	6 May	Hare required
2281	13 May	Thrill Seeker	Beltana Hotel, Lindisfarne
2282	20 May	Hare required
2283	27 May	Hare required

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UP AND CUMMING

24 June 2024 | Combined Clubs Charity Run in support of Gynaecological Cancer Research
28-30 March 2025 | Aussie Nash Hash 2025, Fremantle
8-10 May 2026 | Interhash 2026, Yogyakarta, Indonesia

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Run Report

For a select group of Hashers, an Annual General P!ss Up (AGPU) is that last surge to the finish line of a marathon. Uphill. Into the teeth of a gale. The last time that you’ll have to remember to bring clean skol cups; to coax the phone’s camera to get a clear photo in near darkness; to pray to the Hash gods that the dwindling charge on the white plastic device is sufficient to take Quarter Pounder’s payment as the last to arrive.

For the remainder, an AGPU represents an ever-tightening of the sphincter while glancing around the room and ruling out those who are unlikely to get a Mismanagement guernsey ahead of you.

At the Joint Masters’ insistence, we gathered in the gloom of the Yacht Club’s outer perimeter under the pretence that our final destination was a mystery, and most certainly not the RYCT. Of course, this didn’t stop those die hard Hashers who require pre-trail hydration from propping up the bar. Where there was light and where it was several degrees warmer.

The evening’s theme of black+white elegance was well supported by most of the Pack, even if that meant tackling trail in a ball gown. Johnny Fuckacarcass cut a fine figure, although we couldn’t quite work out if he was meant to look like Winston Churchill, the Monopoly man, or the Fat Controller. We suspect that it was the latter.

We were soon herded onto a bus, but only after a vigorous pat-down to ensure that Hashers didn’t sneak any ‘travellers’ on board. Bus security commissar Sonar was very thorough while checking Magic Touch, which was blatant racial profiling.

There was a degree of nervousness as the bus travelled beyond the Hobart CBD, then over the Tasman Bridge. It would be a long way to Hash back to the RYCT* in high heels, and Arsecutter was now regretting his choice of fashionable but impractical footwear. (*Definitely not the venue.)

Eventually we were dropped near the Lindisfarne Rowing Club and directed to follow trail along the foreshore. For sure we were headed to a p!ss stop under the bridge. Ahead I could see Steptoe and In The Raw with cameras akimbo, recording what I thought was a scenic vista of a red-tinged Tasman Bridge, only to find that they were instead taking an unhealthy interest in Stunned Mullet’s ‘nature break’.

The anticipated p!ss stop under the bridge yielded an unanticipated step back into the 1960s (also known as ‘ancient times’ for the likes of Silent But Deadly) where an aperitif of dry sherry prompted recollections of mother’s day-drinking and half-gallon flagons.

It was then realised that the bus had gone missing, and it turned out that the driver was off trying to manoeuvre it through the Maccas drive-through as he’d missed out on his dinner. It did eventually return and we headed off into parts unknown. Growler declared that this would be ‘the last bush trail of the current Hashing year’, which was could hardly be refuted as it was also the last of any trail for the current year. There were nervous glances toward Magic Touch and Incoming as we headed off into the Rosny Hill Reserve.

At the summit we were welcomed with another Insta-worthy view, a fully-stocked p!ss stop and wonderful canapès. The crispy tofu bites were particularly delightful – you’d almost believe that it was real pork belly! Big kudos to the JMs and the catering team for this one.

Back at the RYCT – the surprise venue for the final acts of the AGPU – we were ushered upstairs and provided a ticket for a welcome drink. Spoof’s attempts to circle back for more tickets were thwarted by the vigilant JMs – this was not their first rodeo and Spoof was not their first clown.

Upstairs we had our first look at the elegantly decorated dining area and fine dined on beef brisket or stuffed chicken breast, the latter describing many Hashers that had already had their fill at the canapiss stop. Gov’nor Honkers‘ annual report was handed around for a bit of pre-dinner light reading, by which I mean ‘looking to see how many of Steptoe’s photos they appear in’. Triple-K seemed to be particularly delighted with her ‘page three’ appearance.

Then came the moment we were all dreading. Not the announcement of the next Mismanagement – that was to follow – but Hashers given a microphone. TicToc waved hers in the air as if she were holding a rogue, over-charged vibrator, while screaming “I don’t know how to use one of these!” (Of course you don’t.) At her side, Snack Bar was busy trying to fellate his microphone, repeating “Is this turned on?” (Not with that technique.)

The JMs then took centre stage (if ‘centre stage’ meant the furthest and darkest corner of the venue) and Sonar showed the now defunct Lips how to use a microphone. Incorrectly. Only Growler, calling upon her Rotarian expertise, walked that fine line between holding a dildo and blasting everyone’s ears, while announcing the two awards. Shithead of the Year – now seemingly representing superior stupidity – was justly awarded to Magic Touch for her propensity to get lost on trail and arrive back at the on-on via Uber. The second cumming of the C*nt of the Year – the name says it all – went to Sir Eve for unwisely taking on the ‘bubbles brigade’, of which one of the JMs is the No.1 ticket holder.

With the awards done, the JMs turned their attention to the new Mismangement, but still had a card up their sleeve. Like a second-rate vaudevillian magic act, Sonar would pull a rabbit out of the hat that bore the name of a ‘random’ Hasher, which would then be allocated one of the roles in an ad hoc manner. It was about as convincing as an English Premier League player going to ground after a heavy clash of shoelaces from a defender, but ultimately we ended up with a blend of experience and freshness to guide H5 over the coming twelve months.

Well done to the JMs for organising an interesting and enjoyable end to the year. Kudos also to Dishlicker and team for the great food. Our thanks to the Mismanagers and those who helped throughout the year – the club looks to be in great shape (even if that shape appears to be ’round’).

On! On!
Grizzly

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SKOLS

• Growler and Sonar – Hares
• Dishlicker – delicious catering
• Scary and Tight Spot – far cough yak hunts
• Honkers and Grizzly – the Ita Buttroses of the H5 Annual Report
• Prawn Star and Stulled Mullet: media tarts, no Hash gear
• Stunned Mullet – scholarship to walk the Kokoda Trail

• Offal, Silent But Deadly, Wrectum – can’t remembers
• Wrectum – toast to Mistress, now Hashing with Cloud Nine Hash
• Dishlicker – 50 run millstone
• Prawn Star – 75 run millstone
• …and other skols Grizzly didn’t write down because he’s slack.

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HASH FLASH

Link to all photos for Run 2278

ALL NEW! H5 MISMANAGEMENT 2024-25

Grand Master	Clearfell
Joint Masters	Bad News In The Raw
On Sec	Cracker
Hash Cash	Rigor Mortis TopDek
Hash Lips	Bee’s Dick Prawn Star
Hash Hops Assistant Hops	Thrill Seeker Steady Eddie
Trailmaster	Lord Limp
Hash Flash	Pole Dancer
Hash Horn	Big Mac Quarter Pounder
Hashet Managers	Viagra Next Week

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Contact us at hobart.h5@gmail.com

Website https://hobarthash.tripod.com/h5/