Hare: Sir Dickman Jarkko
Scribe: Rabies
Gellert Hill Hash #90? of the Budapest Hash House Harriers
24th of August 2008 was a hash Sunday for BPH3, but also the closing day of the Beijing Olympic Games in China. Being Hungarian, in the morning I had to watch the whole water-polo final between the US and the Hungarian teams. It was worth for it! The Hungarian team won the match (to 14:10) and also the gold medal, resulting also quite a few, well deserved down-downs for all looser Americans in the hash circle celebrations later, in the afternoon.
Because of the polo final, I was slightly late for the hash meeting place, but far not the last arriving there, for sure. Yet, at the end of the day it was me, whom the acting RA selected and appointed to scribe and describe the event. One can hardly get a just and fair treatment in our times, particularly not on the hash, I know, but why? RA Sir Baldric, I ask you: Why do you have a pick always on me? You are not American, are you?
The appointment came too late and as a surprise to me. By that time I got far too drunk to start listening to boring jokes, names and other details, what I didn't care for too much at the beginning, neither, to tell the truth. All I can definitely remember was the name of the hare, Sir Dickman Jarkko, the Flying Fin, and his Harley Davidson. Jarkko had lost one of my hairy balls, what he borrowed from me for laying the trail, so I do not want to waste more words on him. Read the preliminary correspondence copies here, if you insist to know. Also, instead of asking me, just check Jack's photo album below for identifying the participants. (By the way, many thanks for the promptly published pictures, Dear Jack Bang Cock!)
In a hopeless effort trying to recollect myself, here are some further (although rather dim) memories from the event, coming up slowly, one by one:
-It was a "B" to "B" hash, meaning that the car-less ones had to take the tram from meeting place "A", then walk up to the starting and ending point "B", called Busulo Juhasz (Broken Hearted Shepherd) restaurant. The run itself must had been picturesque, the views from Gellert hill used to be always pretty spectacular, and challenging, too. This time even a few professional cliffhangers were practicing along our trail, with ropes and all that kind of equipment of theirs. Half of the pack got lost halfway, of course, but they still could manage to arrive to the Beer Wagon well before the others. How? They must have committed a crime, presumably a mass short cutting, while the four of us, the proper front runners, (Ginger Pussy, Baldric, Sir Dickman and Rabies), wasted our time with amusing dozens of amazed and stunned tourists at the foot of the "Freedom Statue" on the hilltop, by singing there a "Father Abraham" in public.
-The circle was something extraordinary, lasting almost for two hours. We have eradicated completely the huge amount of beer on stock, except for a few cans of non-alcoholic pseudo hash fuel, and one last bottle of very cheap white vine saved alone for Andy Cheesy Balls, who couldn't stop whining always for vine and against beer, especially against the "Special" beer of the day. You should had seen Hash Beer BC's face with the desperate expression on it, when realizing that all the three cool boxes in his Beer Wagon car got totally emptied.
-"Pia" is a Hungarian slang word for booze. Living up the local meaning of her name, blond Dane Dame Pia was standing up as the squat-in bar maid, probably the most attractive one ever seen in hash circles. She promised to co-hare Sir Baldric on the next run, only in order to deserve a proper hash name. I have already a suggestion... I can also recall the breath taking smile of another blond woman in the circle. She is a Russian citizen living in Ukraine, if I'm not mistaken, or vice versa. Can somebody tell me her name? And, if possible, her phone number too?
-Similar to the Beijing Olympic Games, there were many different nationalities represented in the circle, one way or another. Norway, for instance, was represented only with a chocolate bar sent by our Linda Cunning Linguist, staying in the country of Fiords for a while. Jack Bang Cock acted as her attorney, when solemnly distributed chunks of this dessert around. Another Danish Viking in the circle, Thomas Smokey Donkey praised the Norwegian chocolate vehemently, claiming that Swiss chocolate is nothing compared to this product. Sacred Scandinavian chauvinism...
-According to recent hash correspondence, (see some copies below), the hard core of the pack continued the OnOn debauchery in the For Sale Pub, short after being expelled from Nevada Pub in the afternoon. At the end of the night many of them were leaving their unpaid bills there to poor Jaws and Sir Dickman, respectively, but with no respect at all, I must say. Shameful, unfair behavior, just like appointing me to scribe... No, I was not there in the For Sale, for sure, I was certainly not part of this dirty atrocity, no matter how drunk I got in the afternoon. Why can I be that firm? Well, I have asked my dear wife, Ildiko Tokaji Sweet. She confirmed me, and mind: She doesn't only know everything, but she knows everything better, too.
OnOn, Rabies, your official HR (Hell Raiser)
Ps.: Damned! Beer came first, so I forgot again to buy one of the stylish, red and/or blue BPH3 #900th tee-shirts for my dear wife, what I wanted to do for so long! Never mind, next time. By the way... Have you bought yours? Hurry up, before your Haberdasher & Hash Beer Jack Bang Cock runs short of shirts too...
Scribe: Rabies
Gellert Hill Hash #90? of the Budapest Hash House Harriers
24th of August 2008 was a hash Sunday for BPH3, but also the closing day of the Beijing Olympic Games in China. Being Hungarian, in the morning I had to watch the whole water-polo final between the US and the Hungarian teams. It was worth for it! The Hungarian team won the match (to 14:10) and also the gold medal, resulting also quite a few, well deserved down-downs for all looser Americans in the hash circle celebrations later, in the afternoon.
Because of the polo final, I was slightly late for the hash meeting place, but far not the last arriving there, for sure. Yet, at the end of the day it was me, whom the acting RA selected and appointed to scribe and describe the event. One can hardly get a just and fair treatment in our times, particularly not on the hash, I know, but why? RA Sir Baldric, I ask you: Why do you have a pick always on me? You are not American, are you?
The appointment came too late and as a surprise to me. By that time I got far too drunk to start listening to boring jokes, names and other details, what I didn't care for too much at the beginning, neither, to tell the truth. All I can definitely remember was the name of the hare, Sir Dickman Jarkko, the Flying Fin, and his Harley Davidson. Jarkko had lost one of my hairy balls, what he borrowed from me for laying the trail, so I do not want to waste more words on him. Read the preliminary correspondence copies here, if you insist to know. Also, instead of asking me, just check Jack's photo album below for identifying the participants. (By the way, many thanks for the promptly published pictures, Dear Jack Bang Cock!)
In a hopeless effort trying to recollect myself, here are some further (although rather dim) memories from the event, coming up slowly, one by one:
-It was a "B" to "B" hash, meaning that the car-less ones had to take the tram from meeting place "A", then walk up to the starting and ending point "B", called Busulo Juhasz (Broken Hearted Shepherd) restaurant. The run itself must had been picturesque, the views from Gellert hill used to be always pretty spectacular, and challenging, too. This time even a few professional cliffhangers were practicing along our trail, with ropes and all that kind of equipment of theirs. Half of the pack got lost halfway, of course, but they still could manage to arrive to the Beer Wagon well before the others. How? They must have committed a crime, presumably a mass short cutting, while the four of us, the proper front runners, (Ginger Pussy, Baldric, Sir Dickman and Rabies), wasted our time with amusing dozens of amazed and stunned tourists at the foot of the "Freedom Statue" on the hilltop, by singing there a "Father Abraham" in public.
-The circle was something extraordinary, lasting almost for two hours. We have eradicated completely the huge amount of beer on stock, except for a few cans of non-alcoholic pseudo hash fuel, and one last bottle of very cheap white vine saved alone for Andy Cheesy Balls, who couldn't stop whining always for vine and against beer, especially against the "Special" beer of the day. You should had seen Hash Beer BC's face with the desperate expression on it, when realizing that all the three cool boxes in his Beer Wagon car got totally emptied.
-"Pia" is a Hungarian slang word for booze. Living up the local meaning of her name, blond Dane Dame Pia was standing up as the squat-in bar maid, probably the most attractive one ever seen in hash circles. She promised to co-hare Sir Baldric on the next run, only in order to deserve a proper hash name. I have already a suggestion... I can also recall the breath taking smile of another blond woman in the circle. She is a Russian citizen living in Ukraine, if I'm not mistaken, or vice versa. Can somebody tell me her name? And, if possible, her phone number too?
-Similar to the Beijing Olympic Games, there were many different nationalities represented in the circle, one way or another. Norway, for instance, was represented only with a chocolate bar sent by our Linda Cunning Linguist, staying in the country of Fiords for a while. Jack Bang Cock acted as her attorney, when solemnly distributed chunks of this dessert around. Another Danish Viking in the circle, Thomas Smokey Donkey praised the Norwegian chocolate vehemently, claiming that Swiss chocolate is nothing compared to this product. Sacred Scandinavian chauvinism...
-According to recent hash correspondence, (see some copies below), the hard core of the pack continued the OnOn debauchery in the For Sale Pub, short after being expelled from Nevada Pub in the afternoon. At the end of the night many of them were leaving their unpaid bills there to poor Jaws and Sir Dickman, respectively, but with no respect at all, I must say. Shameful, unfair behavior, just like appointing me to scribe... No, I was not there in the For Sale, for sure, I was certainly not part of this dirty atrocity, no matter how drunk I got in the afternoon. Why can I be that firm? Well, I have asked my dear wife, Ildiko Tokaji Sweet. She confirmed me, and mind: She doesn't only know everything, but she knows everything better, too.
OnOn, Rabies, your official HR (Hell Raiser)
Ps.: Damned! Beer came first, so I forgot again to buy one of the stylish, red and/or blue BPH3 #900th tee-shirts for my dear wife, what I wanted to do for so long! Never mind, next time. By the way... Have you bought yours? Hurry up, before your Haberdasher & Hash Beer Jack Bang Cock runs short of shirts too...
