Just a note of explanation to avoid any confusion:
This is 10 Minutes Late making his debut on the Hash Trash and not Frustrated Frog Legs for reasons, which will become clear later on.
How did I get the name 10 minutes late you ask yourself? Well, good question. The answer is, I really don’t know, but I suspect that it could be one of the two following options:
Now, I’m sure you’re curious about how I managed to get myself into the unenviable task of writing the Hash Trash? Well that makes 2 of us.
The answer is really quite simple.
As has become customary in recent months, Frustrated Frog Legs (aka Tommy the Frog) volunteered to write the Hash Trash. As is well-documented, all the requests to get him finally to put pen to paper were answered with a resounding “OUI”, however turned out be a big limp ‘NON’. (For those of you with limited language skills, or have no experience with Frenchies, Oui is French for No and Non is also French for No.)
It became apparent by the end of last Sunday’s run that Tommy the Frog had become seriously traumatized by some of the sights he had witnessed, both during the run itself and in the circle – more about that later - and being the kind, caring and public-spirited person that I am, I thought to myself, Sacrebleu! Petit Pois! Ménage à Trios! I just can’t let him suffer any more today than he already has. The least I can do is to relieve him of this additional burden - while at the same time, doing my bit for peace in Europe by ending years of hatred, bitterness and hostility between the French and the English nations by a display of true camaraderie.
As everybody knows, the animosity between England and France was started by the French.
This was mainly as a result of their jealousy of our superb English style of cooking and the high quality selection of English wines, not to mention our great British traditions, such as stag parties abroad, binge drinking, and our terribly well disciplined and well-behaved football supporters, the likes of which any nation would be proud to have as ambassadors of their country.
History shows that this hostility reached a peak in 1940 on the beaches of Dunkirk when the entire French army decided to depart tout de suite to the beaches of the Cote d’Azure for a 5 year holiday, without as much as a lousy Au Revoir, leaving the English army behind to clear up the mess that France had got itself into with Germany - for the second time in just over 20 years.
Never again, mon amis.
So, now the important stuff is out of the way, here’s my trashy account of last Sunday’s Hash extravaganza.
August 5th began as beautiful warm and sunny day with a wonderful atmosphere when we met at Battyany ter at 11:30. Present for this momentous occasion were: St. Anus, Cheesy (I couldn’t think of a more fitting name for him) Balls, Smoky Donkey, The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies, Frustrated Frogs Legs, Me (10 Minutes Late), Giving Head, Cunning Linguist, an American NFG returnee person of the female persuasion who’s name has slipped my mind (Carol), a Scot former GM of the BP hash who suprisingly has no hash name, and last but not least, 3x a Weeny.
Of course, we all felt very upset at the absence of our former, sadly missed and never to be forgotten GM, Bursting Bladder and his lovely Dutch wife, The Dyke. For those who have already forgotten them, he’s was the big Norwegian guy with a beard, a vest and a baseball cap who always arrived for the Hash grasping a large horn in his right hand, trying to entice everybody in the vicinity to blow it, while she, on the other hand, did her best to prevent this from happening.
I think she said that it was something to do with germs, or was it Germans?
Probably Germans, because being Dutch means that her grandfather’s bicycle was borrowed by a German soldier in 1945, so that he could cycle back to Germany very quickly and avoid having multiple clogs, worn by multiple Dutch people, (who were very, very angry after 5 years of German occupation,) being aimed at his head, nose, nuts or alternatively being unceremoniously shoved up his ass. Surprisingly, he never returned with this bicycle, nor did the other 150,000 members of Berlin’s finest return the ones they had borrowed. This led to some animosity between the Dutch and Germans.
Until today, this is so ingrained in the Dutch mentality that even people who never owned a bicycle, weren’t even born until after the war ended, never had a grandfather, or if they did, had one who never owned a bicycle in the first place, still complain about the theft of their grandfather’s bicycle.
But I digress…….
Cheesy Balls and 3x a Weeny were the hares of the day and had decided to deposit their blobs in a remote area of Buda, 26 tram stops from Battyany ter, which meant that not only did we have to suffer a slow moving and very uncomfortable tram for about 35 minutes, but St.Anus, for some unknown reason (like fare dodging), became very anxious at each one of the stops, especially whenever a somber looking person carrying a case stepped onto the tram. As we were seated in the centre of the tram, this meant that St.Anus needed to rotate his head 360 degrees at every stop to check all the doors. At one point he was convinced that one of the new arrivals was just about to slide his party armband on and came running across to me in total panic and begging for a ticket. I was just about to calculate the black market price when the “inspector” left the tram and St.Anus returned to his, by now, very wet seat.
So, we eventually arrived at the start of the run. Those who decided to run, ran and those who didn’t, walked. Quite a nice stroll through the forest, lots of empty beer cans, empty plastic bottles, parts of dead animals (possibly chickens), and numerous ripped open packs of Durex!
I just couldn’t help thinking, “what a romantic place to take your girlfriend, your wife, somebody else’s wife. One thing’s for sure, these local guys really know how to treat a lady and knock her off - her feet, that is.”
It was at that point that Frustrated Frog Legs had his first shock of the day. In the middle of the road was a squashed frog. It had obviously been driven over by a steamroller earlier that day and was kind of spread out with arms and legs stretched out to the 4 main points of the compass (that is north, south, east and west for those of you who aren’t sure). I did my very best to shield Tommy the Frog from this abomination, but to no avail.
He saw it, fell silent, wiped a tear from his cheek, pulled his shorts back up and continued further with bowed head and a devastated expression on his face.
I will now report on the all-time low spot of this, and possibly any other Hash that has taken place anywhere in the universe.
Warning: Read the following at your own risk. Any person of a nervous disposition or with psychological problems is advised not to continue reading further.
The Budapest Hash House Harriers does not accept any responsibility whatsoever for any temporary or permanent physical or mental distress caused.
OK, for those of you who are still reading, which means all of you, I’ll get straight to the point!
3 x a Weeny lived up to his name in the most literal sense and did 3 x a Hash Flash.
This was not a pretty sight and caused quite some consternation among those present that witnessed this and it provoked the whole spectrum of reactions from shock, horror, disgust, open-mouthed disbelief to mild amusement and hysterical laughter. There was just one case of severe disappointment; this was from Giving Head, who missed the spectacle and testicles, as she happened to be looking elsewhere each time. Never mind GH, you really didn’t miss all that much.
On the occasion of Weenies second Hash Flash, the Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies decided that enough was enough and gave him a severe lecture, intended to humiliate, to which there was absolutely no response from the Weeny.
Later on in the circle, Smoky Donkey, who had just announced his 7 year anniversary of marriage to Fallen Madonna on that very day, decided to show support for his wife and get into her good books, no doubt for later in the evening, and give yet another bollocking to 3 x a Weeny.
Did this further humiliation do the trick? No way, in fact it had the opposite effect as shortly afterwards 3 x a Weeny decided to make yet another Hash Flash – right there, in the circle no less!
Upon seeing this, Frustrated Frog Legs, who was unfortunate enough to be standing next to 3 x a Weeny, turned white and then various shades of green and looked as if he was just about to throw up. This was certainly not one of the Froggies best days and if you’re reading this Froggie, I do hope you’re feeling better now.
So, after a few down downs for who knows what, those whose stomach wasn’t turning and churning decided to go for lunch. Giving Head, who was still complaining that she hadn’t actually seen the flashing incidents decided that we should go to eat in the German restaurant behind the market at Battyany. Was it pure coincidence that this particular restaurant specializes in a wide variety of sausages? Bockwurst, Bratwurst, Weisswurst – you name it, they’ve got it - big ones, small ones, fat ones, thin ones, straight ones, bent ones – the list is endless!
Those present at this feast were: Giving Head, Froggy, Cunning Linguist, 3 x a Weeny and
10 Minutes Late. Can’t imagine why everybody else decided to give it a miss this time.
So, all in all, Hash #858 was just another normal Sunday Hash, with all the benefits of rubbing shoulders, and sometimes a lot more, with the crème de la crème of Budapest high society.
We should all consider it to be an extraordinary privilege to be in the company of such cultured and well-adjusted people.
Finally, I have the sad duty to inform you that 3 x a Weeny is leaving Hungary and accordingly last Sunday was his final Budapest Hash Run.
Weeny, we’re all really going to miss it you and we hope that you have more success in making an impression on the camels in Qatar than you did with the majority of us in Budapest.
Last Sunday, you succeeded in making quite a spectacle of yourself, and I’m certain that it’ll be a point of discussion for long after you’ve left us – but isn’t that what you really wanted?
So Weeny, old cock, it only remains for me to wish you good luck for the future and I’m certain that I speak for the whole of Budapest Hash House Harriers when I say that we hope that you get well soon.
Warmest personal regards,
Martin aka 10 Minutes Late
This is 10 Minutes Late making his debut on the Hash Trash and not Frustrated Frog Legs for reasons, which will become clear later on.
How did I get the name 10 minutes late you ask yourself? Well, good question. The answer is, I really don’t know, but I suspect that it could be one of the two following options:
- Some kind of malicious rumor spread by my dear wife, reminiscent of that classic verse Loudon Wainwright III song, ‘Whatever happened to you”, which goes something like this:
Well, we used to be in love,
But now we are in hate,
You used to say I came too early,
But it was you who came too late - Alternatively, it could have something to do with my habit of procrastinating every Sunday morning before I rise, which has in the past, caused me to arrive about 10 minutes late for the Hash. In this regard I am the living proof that there’s absolutely no truth in the rumor that procrastination makes you go blond blund erm, blind (sorry about that, recently been having a little trouble seeing the letters on the keyboard clearly, and sometimes I can’t see the keyboard at all.)
Now, I’m sure you’re curious about how I managed to get myself into the unenviable task of writing the Hash Trash? Well that makes 2 of us.
The answer is really quite simple.
As has become customary in recent months, Frustrated Frog Legs (aka Tommy the Frog) volunteered to write the Hash Trash. As is well-documented, all the requests to get him finally to put pen to paper were answered with a resounding “OUI”, however turned out be a big limp ‘NON’. (For those of you with limited language skills, or have no experience with Frenchies, Oui is French for No and Non is also French for No.)
It became apparent by the end of last Sunday’s run that Tommy the Frog had become seriously traumatized by some of the sights he had witnessed, both during the run itself and in the circle – more about that later - and being the kind, caring and public-spirited person that I am, I thought to myself, Sacrebleu! Petit Pois! Ménage à Trios! I just can’t let him suffer any more today than he already has. The least I can do is to relieve him of this additional burden - while at the same time, doing my bit for peace in Europe by ending years of hatred, bitterness and hostility between the French and the English nations by a display of true camaraderie.
As everybody knows, the animosity between England and France was started by the French.
This was mainly as a result of their jealousy of our superb English style of cooking and the high quality selection of English wines, not to mention our great British traditions, such as stag parties abroad, binge drinking, and our terribly well disciplined and well-behaved football supporters, the likes of which any nation would be proud to have as ambassadors of their country.
History shows that this hostility reached a peak in 1940 on the beaches of Dunkirk when the entire French army decided to depart tout de suite to the beaches of the Cote d’Azure for a 5 year holiday, without as much as a lousy Au Revoir, leaving the English army behind to clear up the mess that France had got itself into with Germany - for the second time in just over 20 years.
Never again, mon amis.
So, now the important stuff is out of the way, here’s my trashy account of last Sunday’s Hash extravaganza.
August 5th began as beautiful warm and sunny day with a wonderful atmosphere when we met at Battyany ter at 11:30. Present for this momentous occasion were: St. Anus, Cheesy (I couldn’t think of a more fitting name for him) Balls, Smoky Donkey, The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies, Frustrated Frogs Legs, Me (10 Minutes Late), Giving Head, Cunning Linguist, an American NFG returnee person of the female persuasion who’s name has slipped my mind (Carol), a Scot former GM of the BP hash who suprisingly has no hash name, and last but not least, 3x a Weeny.
Of course, we all felt very upset at the absence of our former, sadly missed and never to be forgotten GM, Bursting Bladder and his lovely Dutch wife, The Dyke. For those who have already forgotten them, he’s was the big Norwegian guy with a beard, a vest and a baseball cap who always arrived for the Hash grasping a large horn in his right hand, trying to entice everybody in the vicinity to blow it, while she, on the other hand, did her best to prevent this from happening.
I think she said that it was something to do with germs, or was it Germans?
Probably Germans, because being Dutch means that her grandfather’s bicycle was borrowed by a German soldier in 1945, so that he could cycle back to Germany very quickly and avoid having multiple clogs, worn by multiple Dutch people, (who were very, very angry after 5 years of German occupation,) being aimed at his head, nose, nuts or alternatively being unceremoniously shoved up his ass. Surprisingly, he never returned with this bicycle, nor did the other 150,000 members of Berlin’s finest return the ones they had borrowed. This led to some animosity between the Dutch and Germans.
Until today, this is so ingrained in the Dutch mentality that even people who never owned a bicycle, weren’t even born until after the war ended, never had a grandfather, or if they did, had one who never owned a bicycle in the first place, still complain about the theft of their grandfather’s bicycle.
But I digress…….
Cheesy Balls and 3x a Weeny were the hares of the day and had decided to deposit their blobs in a remote area of Buda, 26 tram stops from Battyany ter, which meant that not only did we have to suffer a slow moving and very uncomfortable tram for about 35 minutes, but St.Anus, for some unknown reason (like fare dodging), became very anxious at each one of the stops, especially whenever a somber looking person carrying a case stepped onto the tram. As we were seated in the centre of the tram, this meant that St.Anus needed to rotate his head 360 degrees at every stop to check all the doors. At one point he was convinced that one of the new arrivals was just about to slide his party armband on and came running across to me in total panic and begging for a ticket. I was just about to calculate the black market price when the “inspector” left the tram and St.Anus returned to his, by now, very wet seat.
So, we eventually arrived at the start of the run. Those who decided to run, ran and those who didn’t, walked. Quite a nice stroll through the forest, lots of empty beer cans, empty plastic bottles, parts of dead animals (possibly chickens), and numerous ripped open packs of Durex!
I just couldn’t help thinking, “what a romantic place to take your girlfriend, your wife, somebody else’s wife. One thing’s for sure, these local guys really know how to treat a lady and knock her off - her feet, that is.”
It was at that point that Frustrated Frog Legs had his first shock of the day. In the middle of the road was a squashed frog. It had obviously been driven over by a steamroller earlier that day and was kind of spread out with arms and legs stretched out to the 4 main points of the compass (that is north, south, east and west for those of you who aren’t sure). I did my very best to shield Tommy the Frog from this abomination, but to no avail.
He saw it, fell silent, wiped a tear from his cheek, pulled his shorts back up and continued further with bowed head and a devastated expression on his face.
I will now report on the all-time low spot of this, and possibly any other Hash that has taken place anywhere in the universe.
Warning: Read the following at your own risk. Any person of a nervous disposition or with psychological problems is advised not to continue reading further.
The Budapest Hash House Harriers does not accept any responsibility whatsoever for any temporary or permanent physical or mental distress caused.
OK, for those of you who are still reading, which means all of you, I’ll get straight to the point!
3 x a Weeny lived up to his name in the most literal sense and did 3 x a Hash Flash.
This was not a pretty sight and caused quite some consternation among those present that witnessed this and it provoked the whole spectrum of reactions from shock, horror, disgust, open-mouthed disbelief to mild amusement and hysterical laughter. There was just one case of severe disappointment; this was from Giving Head, who missed the spectacle and testicles, as she happened to be looking elsewhere each time. Never mind GH, you really didn’t miss all that much.
On the occasion of Weenies second Hash Flash, the Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies decided that enough was enough and gave him a severe lecture, intended to humiliate, to which there was absolutely no response from the Weeny.
Later on in the circle, Smoky Donkey, who had just announced his 7 year anniversary of marriage to Fallen Madonna on that very day, decided to show support for his wife and get into her good books, no doubt for later in the evening, and give yet another bollocking to 3 x a Weeny.
Did this further humiliation do the trick? No way, in fact it had the opposite effect as shortly afterwards 3 x a Weeny decided to make yet another Hash Flash – right there, in the circle no less!
Upon seeing this, Frustrated Frog Legs, who was unfortunate enough to be standing next to 3 x a Weeny, turned white and then various shades of green and looked as if he was just about to throw up. This was certainly not one of the Froggies best days and if you’re reading this Froggie, I do hope you’re feeling better now.
So, after a few down downs for who knows what, those whose stomach wasn’t turning and churning decided to go for lunch. Giving Head, who was still complaining that she hadn’t actually seen the flashing incidents decided that we should go to eat in the German restaurant behind the market at Battyany. Was it pure coincidence that this particular restaurant specializes in a wide variety of sausages? Bockwurst, Bratwurst, Weisswurst – you name it, they’ve got it - big ones, small ones, fat ones, thin ones, straight ones, bent ones – the list is endless!
Those present at this feast were: Giving Head, Froggy, Cunning Linguist, 3 x a Weeny and
10 Minutes Late. Can’t imagine why everybody else decided to give it a miss this time.
So, all in all, Hash #858 was just another normal Sunday Hash, with all the benefits of rubbing shoulders, and sometimes a lot more, with the crème de la crème of Budapest high society.
We should all consider it to be an extraordinary privilege to be in the company of such cultured and well-adjusted people.
Finally, I have the sad duty to inform you that 3 x a Weeny is leaving Hungary and accordingly last Sunday was his final Budapest Hash Run.
Weeny, we’re all really going to miss it you and we hope that you have more success in making an impression on the camels in Qatar than you did with the majority of us in Budapest.
Last Sunday, you succeeded in making quite a spectacle of yourself, and I’m certain that it’ll be a point of discussion for long after you’ve left us – but isn’t that what you really wanted?
So Weeny, old cock, it only remains for me to wish you good luck for the future and I’m certain that I speak for the whole of Budapest Hash House Harriers when I say that we hope that you get well soon.
Warmest personal regards,
Martin aka 10 Minutes Late
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