GOLD COAST HASH HOUSE HARRIERS Inaugural Hash Run:

Joint Hash Masters : Geoff Lewis, Terry Morrow Hash Words : Ross Thompson Hash Cash : Bob Hutchinson Hash Sec : Ross Thompson ( and this is now official ) This newsletter of the GCH3 compiled on the illiterate typewriter of the one Peter Skinner. “You’re a journo!! Official hash words was not there for the Inaugural Hash so be a good lad and write your memoirs of the proceedings,” was the brief from Hashers Masters Lewis and Marrow. THE INAUGRUAL HASH (thereafter to be as the I.H ) What a memorable fucking event.

From whoa the I.H. was one of the most impressive examples of uninhabited self expression witnessed in the sun soaked city of surf, sand and Norman’s Gunston’s “funny business”. Full points to everyone involved in the organisation ( especially Messrs Lewis and Morrow for a top course including that soul destroying after dark shambles across the unmapped tracts of Carrara ), participation and mopping up operation. An official, but probable unchronological, history of the I.H. is something like this. 4pm. May, 1, 1978. Surfers Paradise International Raceway. Participants including a boisterous bunch of bastards from Brisbane, Cairns and Townsville Hashers assembled.

Ahead lay the unknown but charged with enthusiasm and Fourex they boarded Dave Rowley’s double decker chariot and headed west. (Where the fuck were you Thompson, Hash Words). Last seen at the Gees Gees earlier that day. Not sighted or heard of as this was being pounded out. For further notes on those not there see NOTEABLE ASSENTEES, elsewhere in this issue) Groans and moans as the bus headed further from the succour of parked cars and Hash Venue soon changed to even bigger groans and moans as the harrier laden double decker failed to get up the hill. Out for a push, piss and first stretching of legs and things.

Bus eventually made it to Southport Race Club where stunned punters witnessed the incredible sight of a double decker disgorging amazing mass of humanity clad in “Harder it gets ,harder we try” T-Shirts. First poor innocent bastard conned into anything was the hapless trail biker rider told to find a paper trail and don’t blood lose it. Not sure who made that dire threat bur suspect it was Brisbane Hash Sec Paul NcLaughlin who was later seen saving hundreds of yards of road running bt hijacking the bike.

And the poor little kid rider thought it was a gun stuck in his back. Despite the short cutters (more on them later ) the hares had their chuckles as the main contingent floundered in hopelessly in swampy waste land aptly termed “Wherethefuckarewe country” by the Metropolitan Brisbane boys who thought there was little but highrise, bikinis and surf on the Gold Coast. One rather mean water jump claimed a few victims including Rob “Marineland” Clapp who was having his first outing. He obviously thought one of his trained dolphins would come to his rescue. “Rabbit” Skinner (I’m the poor bastard trying to remember what happened ) and “Honest Gary” Roberts tried to do everyone a favour by erecting a log bridge. The log almost sank from sight and what protruded really screwed up the landing area. Stiff Shit. On On we went. Past the Golf Club where bewildered putters in the 19th knew it was time to go. ( Did we really see a bunch of stupid bastards running along shouting “Hard on, On On” and blowing trumpets and things) And then came the good part.

Back to civilisation where Maurie “First Hill”Tanner, Dick “Dickless” Nichols, Rod “Sailor” Williams ( a Gold Coast prospect), Ken “Big Blisters” Dickenson and Joe “Big Mac” Hariluk suddenly materialised looking very fresh, especially “First Hill Maurie” who has proved a very cunning hasher with similar previous efforts.

The above mentioned will go down in history as THE SHORT CUTTERS. History might be maligning Ken Dickenson( but no apologies ) because he did have bloody big blisters which probably accounted for his bludging a ride in a Mini Moke down the Chevron Island straight. The good tourists of Surfers Paradise have probably seen most things but their eyes really boggled at the sight of 59 ( yes that’s official) Hash House Harriers pounding, whezzing, shambling, plodding and staggering over the final section of cavil Avenue to the waiting double decker wagon.

What a magnificent spectacle. Boys we were too much and each and everyone of you can take a deep breath, puff out your chest and say “I MADE FUCKING HISTORY”. (or whatever history you like) The guy who told the little old inquisitive Jew to: Piss Off, can’t you see I’m stuffed can take extra pride. “I only asked what you all are”, lamented the Jew. While we take a breather and head back to the security and refreshment of Hash we will delve into: NOTEABLE ABSENTEES: Again the question is asked: Ross Thompson where the….. were you? If it were not for the importance august occasion the “Where was T”? question could almost have a chapter devoted to it. Perhaps he lost his harrier shoes on the last gee gee race.

Perhaps a desperate (bless her heart) lured him away. But enough about Thompson. He missed a history making event. John “Pacific Fair” Morrison had visitors. Jolly inconsiderate of them. John “First Run Only” Sullivan was initially absent but atoned for that by doing a stirling job behind the bar at the Hash. Pulled muscle or something is John’s plausible excuse.

Richard “The President” Schmidt also failed to show as did any representative from Short Punch and Greatorix. TAA were nobly represented but other airlines ( just to be mean we won’t mention them) weren’t. There were other absentees but not noteable enough to mention On On