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Waitemata Rugby Club, Friday Night ... NWH3 Touch Team is getting another absolute dicking on the field.

Metal Mickey: Gidday Headspin, how’d ya like to be G.M next year?

Headspin: Oh Yeah, that’d be Choice.

Metal Mickey: Congratulations, your it.

Holy (or should that be Wholely) Shit, if you’re ever asked to be the G.M. of this hairy assed old bunch of useless fuckers, jump at the chance and look forward to a year of absolute hilarity, bullshit and shit loads of fun.

Hope like hell though that you’ve got a committee like I did. What an awesome collection of people, all doing their best to keep NorWest Hash popular and a heap of fun.

Monthly      Joint Master:
Didn’t bring any joints along, probably didn’t think it would help his chances of becoming a J.P. Did a bloody excellent job of fund raising, including sponsorship from Portage Trust and then getting enough money from Pup Charity through the Shakespeare for 30 Kegs of Piss for the 200 Up Weekend at Riverhead.

Mr Meat    Joint Master:
Didn’t bring any joints along either but was keen and regular in assisting in all things like a J.M. should.

Dick Driver    Hash Cash:
Money, Money, Money.

Omo    Hash Flash:
Check out the awesome fotos in the register.

Bruiser    Hash Cash:
Pay up or Fuck Off

Hard to Port    Trail Master:
Did a pretty good job of keeping Flipper in line.

Bananas     Brew Master:
Always plenty of piss, and for a whole year Bananas didn’t complain about the piss

Flipper    Trail Master:
Where the Fuck are we?

One night that sticks in my mind from my year as G.M. is the run from Drummer Boy’s fibrous plaster factory in Keeling road. Not long after Rambuka had taken over Fiji with a Coup, bloody No Thanx and Footrot (My sister and her Fuck) decide their having their own Coup at NorWest Hash whilst I’m trying to do the Erection. Well it was all very boring and I was able to laugh it off and make them look silly, until they pulled a Hangmans Noose out of their bag. Fuck I nearly shit my pants. The same night’s erection was followed by an all out brawl with wet plaster going in all directions and all but a few getting absolutely covered in the shit.

Another fond memory is the fact that the Hash Trailer was used so frequently during the good weather months. It seemed a lot easier to go absolutely anywhere you fucking wanted to when you were trying to decide on a venue, because everything (almost) that you needed was right there. The other bonus was that ‘Trailer meant “Keg” and there was normally still heaps of piss left after most of the mob had fucked off home. I remember many a night standing around the Trailer with Bananas and Two Dogs at 1 o’clock in the morning, still talking absolute shit and drinking piss. Only trouble then was getting the bloody trailer home on the back of the poor old Commodore when you’re pissed as a fuck, the trailer weighs more than the car (Felt like it when you tried to stop anyway) and you can’t remember where the fuck you are.

Good times for ever.


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Drawing of GM on this page adapted from original drawing by Trollup

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Site updated: 15th February 2001

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