Trash display - The Safe Haven for Bergen Hash House Harriers

The Run of Unfulfilled Promises ...

It has been well documented in a previous trash how the R.A. appoints the scribe so it won't be repeated here.

It probably won't come as any great surprise to our regular readers to hear that the usual hard-core consisting of Foggy Glasses, Beer Stop and Backtracker started the pre-run preparations at the local public house; "Trappen" ("The Steps"). It has probably been given this name because the patrons are either on their way up or down the steps of life. To be honest, the majority are probably on their way down. The only surprise (and a pleasant one it was) was when Dr. Butt joined us for a quick one on her way home from work.

At the prescribed time, we set of in the general direction of the car park via a shop where we stocked up on beer to be enjoyed during the long car journey ahead of us. Lo and behold. We found Abominator already at the car park with a can of Castlemaine XXXX. At this point, you should all say "So what?" (One, two, three, everybody: "SO WHAT???"). It's easy to explain: for the last couple of months every other sentence that has come from Abominator has been "Castlemaine XXXX, I wouldn't give it up for any other lager". He has said it so many times that it's even rubb'ed (joke) of on other weak-minded Hashers. At last, it seemed Abominator was going to keep his promise to get hold of some cans of the aforementioned lager. Before we could rejoice, we had to stumble into the assembled Hash Wagons and set off towards Fanahammeren and Fana kirke. But not before Pizzaman and Golden Clipper turned out to be *REAL POOFTERS* and tried to rip Bubbles' shorts to shreds.

A few Hashers had found their way to the starting point by the time we arrived. Dog Handler was delegated to carry The Hash Shit for having committed a multitude of sins (Have I mentioned that he put his dirty clothes in yours truly's backpack after run #159? No? Then let me elaborate. He must have known that I empty the contents of the rucksack into my washing machine after the run. I did the same after run #159 and after the washing machine had done its bit, out came some bluish ex-white socks, T-shirts including an ex-yellow rather greenish 50th run T-shirt. You see, Dog Handler's T-shirt was dark blue). The R.A. did not wear the Hash Shit with pride but protested vehemently, but was over-ruled by the G.M. And as revenge, the R.A. appointed yours truly Hash Scribe (again!).

ON-ON was called and run #162 had officially started! As we had started outside a church, the Hare probably thought it right to remind us of this fact as the trail skirted past graves for what seemed like an eternity before we ended up crossing some poor farmers land. And so we continued up, down and around before we stumbled down a step precipice and on to a drink stop. As the Hare did a lot of front running, yours truly had to stay at the rear of the pack to make sure that the Harriets didn't get lost! As a result, most of the beer was already consumed by the time the last Hashers arrived at the drink stop! And off course, "ON-ON" was called before we had finished our small ration of the golden brew. So off we set again, this time on civilised roads. After a short run, we observed Beer Stop heading straight for some bushes. Ha, ha, the young chap is of P.O.T.'ing, we thought. We wondered what was going on after this hiding behind bushes was repeated a few times. It later turned out that the Wanker had been given the can of Castlemaine XXXX lager to share with the other Hashers. But did the Wanker do this??? No!!! He drank it all up himself!! At this point one could mistake Abominator for being a naive chap giving the beer to a weak soul like Beer Stop, and thereby being unable to fulfil the promise he had solemnly given the BH3 Hashers! In all honesty it must be mentioned that Abominator really does move in mysterious ways, as a *VIRGIN* can of Castlemaine XXXX materialised in my pocket a couple of days later as if by magic!

Having returned to the starting point, the circle was formed and the Down-downs handed out. Dr Butt informed the pack, rather smugly it must be said, that she had had a P.O.T. If she thought that was an easy way to get a down-down, she was very much mistaken. The circle was rounded off with two ceremonies: Dog Handler had completed 50 runs and was presented with his yellow commemorative T-shirt. The other ceremony was in honour of Pizzaman who had completed 69 runs. He had to partake of a beer standing upside down as tradition decrees.

Then it happened: the hare informed the pack that there would be no nosh after the run!! This really upset the pack, as it's a tradition after a BH3 run that the hare prepares some nosh or at least arranges a BBQ. But no, not this time. So we drove back to Bergen and bought some really crappy food at a kebab place before we drowned our sorrows at one of our usual drink-stop pubs, Bergen Gjestehus. All Hashers except for Beer Stop and Foggy Glasses headed for home after this traumatic experience. The two aforementioned Hashers headed for Beer Stop's abode and an evening of rock music performed by an all-female lesbian rock group from England who play crap music but have a fantastic stage show (the less said the better).

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Run summary Too flat, too steep, too long, too short, too basic etc.

Hash Nosh summary Did anybody say Hash Nosh??? I certainly didn't see any!

Down-downs	Reason for down-downs
The Hare	For having laid "basically a run" according to the R.A.
Golden Clipper	Tea bag, for having committed the sin of running in new shoes
Pizzaman	For having completed 69 runs