This was it! THE GREAT HUNDRETH HASH! We were all prepared to be highly impressed by the great skill displayed by the Hashmasters in the laying of this trail and we were not disappointed. But just like the best laid plans o’ mice and men, half of this bunch of jerk-offs managed to screw it all up and miss the last (and best) part of the trail when they ganged oft’ agly and cut inbound to the chariots on the outbound paper.

A rowdy crew of 51 gathered on the shores of the Bishnumati for this little outing — for once Cruikshank was actually missed, for if he had been with us instead of home babying his bowels we would have at least matched the turn-out of that other so-called Hash on their 75th. Oh, well, Ke garne? Official 100th Hash shirts were handed out, and from the sights and smells some of this lot really needed these new duds. “On-On”- and Mike Scholey jumped right into the river before we even found the first check. Steady John Perrott finally led us onto an excellent back check to the north, Andy S., Doug J., and Jerry W. in hot pursuit. Check again - over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house we go. But granny wasn’t even there - though she had promised to “keep an eye out for us.”

While Barron and Thwaites scaled the heights scouting for paper, other saner souls stayed below until a ridiculously messy goat trail was found with those precious shredded classified documents to lead us through the village of Manmaiju -“Hey ma, lookit the crazy foreigners!” Thence down to another check in the paddies where the HM’s were roundly and much deservedly cursed for a false trail that was too, too long. Then a long gallop on good road with Levitsky keeping us on the track at the next check brought us back amongst some especially tidy villagers - so tidy in fact that the buggers had swept up all the paper in the vicinity causing what had been a good run to degenerate into a debacle of no mean proportion. Hounds wandered around in a daze until some fool spotted the cars in the distance and led half the crowd back the aforementioned outbound trail. In reality, Dibley, Marsh, and the Scribe had found the real trail, and in a grand gesture of sportsmanship, just sat on it waiting for others to catch up, But, when the silence grew too oppresive, we three suspected that perhaps we were on the false trail and would be hurtin’ for certain to catch up.

So off we went - to discover we were on the pukkha paper - confirmed shortly by HM Russell leading the ragged remnants of what could now be called a full-fledged disaster. While this pitiful lot, augmented by the appearance of Jerry W. who broke his own trail down the hillside and Jan Z who probably just fell down the same hill, made their way across the river and home, a whole series of mini-dramas was unfolding elsewhere. Doug James managed to flop right into a nice cowpie enroute while Nedegard stopped to graze briefly on some farmer’s rice crop. But all performances paled next to that of the Hash President who leapt when he should have looked and bunged his ankle up right proper. Duncan Jackman wanted a mention in this report too, and he mentioned some bizarre experience with Jerry W. as newsworthy - said Jerry gave the lousiest one he’d ever had.... Now what do you suppose he’s talking about?

OK, it was irritating enough for us to have taken the longer, though correct, trail back to the chariots - but then to see you short-cutting buggers demolishing that ill-deserved beer was intolerable! OK, all forgiven - an excellent run - it was probably hopeless to expect no major problems since some of this crew could screw up a wet dream anyway. Thanks Hares - the 100th was memorable!

The great HUNDRETH HASH being completed and the beer being consumed with great gusto, we made our individual ways home to clean up for the BASH - not that anything short of an autoclave could actually make this grotty crew presentable to the public. A goodly number of happy revellers turned up at the Summit Hotel to carouse the night away. Now I was hoping for some truly fine and foolish performances at this affair to liven up this report, but most of this crowd skipped right through the rowdy stage to same serious drinking which lasted ‘til the wee hours. The chow was excellent and there was booze galore - from some quite fine wines down to some disgusting swill that Kedwell insisted was Australian Port. I suspect that it was actually something just stooped out of the Bagmati, but at this late hour DK wouldn’t have known if he was drinking Port or Panther Piss. Several others also slipped right through the cheery stage to reach the near-catatonic rather quickly. At one point some truly foolish proposal about allowing women to run in THE HASH were put forwards, but these fantasies of some diseased mind were dismissed quite decisively.

AWARDS ** AWARDS ** AWARDS ** AWARDS **

WALKING STICK — By easily besting any possible competition with his fine performance in the 100th, our beloved Hash President, Keith Robinson ######, oops, hobbled away with this little gem.

HASHIT - Given at the 100th for conspicuous and consistent achievement in all forms of screwing up on Hashes to Fred Nedegard.

101st Hash - Hares Zonneveld and Perrott, for details, READ ON.

Note: Stats to Hash 100 given in the log book with Tony Russell on 88 out of a 100 recorded as the most dedicated hasher