#300: 300th Run

We just hit run #300 for the Covid ReHash, and it was absolute chaos. It was like a primary school disco but with more grey hair and significantly more questionable decisions.

We all rocked up early—unheard of, I know—and the drinks were flowing before we even hit the trail. It’s like we’re trying to see how much “magic brew” we can fit into a human body before it refuses to move.

The Hares for this milestone were Baah Sinister and Ballbags, with an assist from Where the Fuck am I and Derro. Look, they outdid themselves. They really did. Usually, these guys couldn’t organise a chook raffle in a pub, but this time? Perfection.

The Claret and the Chaos
We had a run, a fast walk, and a “slow walk” (which is basically just standing still with style). The trails were marked out better than a toddler’s colouring book. However, Baah Sinister decided the runners’ trail needed a bit of extra “pizazz.”

He took a massive tumble. I’m talking full-on claret everywhere. Vampires everywhere in the world were licking their lips and Tampax sales soared. Not to be called an under-achiever and because he’s a glutton for punishment, he did it again five minutes later! Honestly, mate, if you wanted a male nurse at the hospital to give you a reach-around, you could have just asked for a referral (or waited in the bush for Miscarrige to come along, we know he is happy to disappear into dark holes). You don’t need to leave half your DNA on the forest floor!

The Royal and the Lanky
We had a massive turnout from other hashes, including people driving more than 90 minutes to join us. Talk about commitment to a free beer. Little Squirt drove all that way and still managed to be so late he missed the run. At 7’2″, he’s basically a sentient beanpole. How do you miss a run when you can see the finish line from three suburbs away? Seriously, Squirt, get it together.

A massive highlight was the presence of H.R.H. King Rabbit. Over 2000 runs! That’s not just a record; that’s a medical marvel. It was a truly royal attendance, even if the rest of us are basically the court jesters.

The Feast and the “Gourmet” Walking Dead
The food was top-tier, clearly influenced by the Gourmet Hash (also known as the Walking Dead). These legends are so old their youngest member probably helped shovel coal into the first steam locomotive.

A massive shout-out to Good Head for the incredible spread and Thomas the Toucher for manning the BBQ. Thomas made sure the onions were cut according to Ballbags’ strict code—because god forbid we have an unregulated onion in this establishment.

The “Roll” Call of Shame
We had a list of attendees that sounds like the manifest of a very specific type of asylum:

Dr Zeus, Botcho, and Brewtus (sounds like a law firm for the uninsured).

Weekly, Pooj, and Menstrual (I’m not even touching that one).

Spiderman and Erection (worst superhero team-up ever).

Slug, Grand Canyon, and Full of Shit (and his brother Fuller Shit).

Pissy Fit, Raphaella, Rug, Bat, and Testicles.

And then we have the “Raffle Bandits”: Wally, Bent Banana, Little Squirt, and Swollen Colon. These lot didn’t just win prizes; they basically broke into our house and stole them.

To the Covid Hash members—especially Fresh Meat, Baah, Derro and Arsenic—thanks for the effort. Jelly, respect for flying up to join us for this special event, although we could have done without the usual display of that hairy chest – seriously mate – put a shirt on we had them on sale for only $30 bucks. Run #300 was a belter. To those who didn’t show up? The Walking Dead are looking for new recruits to replace those that expired in the forest, so off you go, you absolute drop-kicks!

Run #300 was a belter

OnOn,
Eno