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Bangkok Hash House Bikers Established 1992

It's not just mountain bike riding, it's an adventure!

Last Revised: 26 March, 2012

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Venue: Horseshoe Point, Banglamung, Pattaya.
Hares: Wolf 'Shity Shity Bang Bang' M, Rudi 'Bermuda Triangle' B, John 'The Pope' E.
Dates: 24/25 Mar 2012.9th Pineapple Classic
Scribe: Tony 'Sticky Trousers' M.

STARTS

The only reason I came to this event was that someone had told me that there was going to be a party at a place called Whore's Shoe Point in Pattaya, that there was going to be a lot of sweaty riding going on, and that if I was lucky I could get to be the circle jerk. At least that's Pencil Flasher's story, and he's sticking to it.

I was a bit worried at how hard I'd heard the hashes had become, especially as I'd spent the last six months growing a layer of blubber in an attempt to survive an English winter and doing no sport whatsoever. But Saturday's ride started far more easily than I had expected, with the first twenty minutes consisting of Wolfgang making a speech.

After Wolfgang's race longing (briefing just wasn't the word) the actual cycling part of the hash began wonderfully, the undulating countryside making us murmur with pleasure as we blinked at it through rivulets of salty sweat. Shortly after, it started raining, which cooled the air beautifully as we slithered through the sandy sludge.

The trail was at first very well marked, but the rain swept a lot of the paper into rivers and down drains. Some of us ended doing the same bit several times, but it was so delightful we didn't even mind, The water stop was so perfectly organised that they even served delicious freshly fried snacks. Aroy aroy!

There was a hard hill and a technical downhill for those who liked that sort of thing, a refreshing river to pedal through,and even a police checkpoint, where several hasherettes were stopped by the boys in brown and chatted up. Like I say, something for everyone.

The circle was most amusing, not one but two hashers having to drink from their new shoes. Carpet Burns cheated by putting her glass in her sandals rather than pouring the beer into the..er...well, I guess it was a sandal. I was going to make a joke about it being a Whore's Shoe Pint, but I am a bit scared of Carpet Burns so I won't.

It being close to Easter, the GS was crucified with a beer in each hand. I am not quite sure how he managed to drink both beers whilst being strapped to a broom handle with fetish buckles, but he did, and I can only presume that he has had practice at being tied up and being forced to swallow.

The most outstanding dedication to helping a friend complete a hash was by [can you remember who these totally mad f*ckers were and put their names in? - Ed] two lovely guys, one of whose chain broke early in the ride, and the other who towed him the whole way with a rope. The particularly impressive bit about this was that they did the long trail, the optional hill, the technical down-hill, and didn't take the short cut. The other impressive bit was that they had apparently embarked on the hash carrying five metres of thick rope, but hadn't bothered packing a spare chain. The circle rewarded this praiseworthy yet in so many ways lunatic dedication to completing the hash by naming the chainless wonder 'Trailer Trash'.

Pencil Flasher managed to somehow combine being hash pot pusher and also piss pot of the month with such effortlessness that most independent observers concluded that he would likely end up being self-awarded piss pot of the month a dozen times - if not more - by the end of the year.

I am going to end my Saturday write up with this legendary fellow and also start my Sunday with him too. A non-hashing farang at breakfast asked me if I knew where she could go off-road cycling. Bearing in mind that Pencil Flasher's job is to assist tourists to do just that, I suggested she asked him. His reply entailed an extensive explanation of the glories of Walking Street, including a rather expansive detour about how some of the most beautiful ladies on that road did, in fact, have penises. I shall never forget the look on that gentle lady's face as her lips hovered unsippingly over her herbal tea and her eyes blinked as uncomprehendingly as those of a teenaged vegan whose trip to a tulip farm and inexplicably transformed into a guided tour of a slaughterhouse.

Rich Bitch got story of the month on Sunday, with the most believable tale of one's stationary vehicle hitting a moving tree any of us had ever heard. It involved two stampeding water-buffalo, each attached to an uprooted tree with a rope. "One to the left of me, one to the right and then this HUGE trunk started coming towards me" she explained, in an inverted version of the sort of thing that would happen in innumerable hotel rooms only a few kilometers away later that very night.

In short, a very enjoyable hash, and on a personal note, lovely to see so many old faces after six months away. Can't wait til next month!

ENDS