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ZH3 Hash #1082: – The answer to the universe, life, and everything – Write-up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1082: – The answer to the universe, life, and everything

Location: Buggechplatz

Hare: Cavity Search, formerly Just Dennie, on her virgin lay helped by Meme

RA: Weapon of Ass Destruction

Attendance: 14 hashers, a dog, and 2 mini-hashers

Scribe: Sick a dick in it

Domingo 14:00 horas en buggechplatz. Meme como buen Hare, es el primero en llegar seguido del impresionante auto deportivo de Slippery, del cual sale como un trueno nuestra amada Zoe. Poco a poco van llegando los demas hasta completar los 14 hashers que nos reunimos este domingo. No falta de nada incluso tenemos mini-hashers en mini bicicletas. Los caminantes son los que mejor comienzan y se cuidan con unas Heisse Marroni calentitas recien salidas del horno, para continuar con un chocolate caliente y una tarta de queso en nuestra DrinkStop. Mientras los walkers se cuidan, los runners se pierden en numerosas ocasiones pero encuentran el camino reuniendo a los lentos runners en el DrinkStop. Casi todo el trail circula por el bosque, en el que se puede ver un poco de nieve, que a veces confundimos con marcas de harina. El bosque esta tranquilo y sereno y nos ofrece una estampa preciosa. Una vez concluida la DrinkStop, continuamos un par de kilometros hacia el final BeerStop! Finalmente! Hoy nos acompana tambien un virgen en su primer hash y milagrosamente no se perdio en ningun momento! Hurraaaaa

Comenzamos el circulo con numerosas nominaciones y una ronda de “nominar o beber”, nuestro amado beerbitch Soaked Baloney tiene que beber en numerosas ocasiones al grito de “Que hora es??” Un circulo con cantidad y calidad de nominaciones culmina con el bautizo de nuestra amada Dennie, que, por ser dentista, pasara a ser llamada “Cavity Search”, tras una complicada votacion instigada por Weapon. El clima era bastante frio, pero Cavity Search, como buena bulgara acostumbrada al frio, sobrevive estoicamente a la harina y cerveza de su bautizo. Sadam y Count Flashula ofrecen su hogar para un divertidisimo apres-hash. Herzlichen Dank!

Gracias a todos, un excepcional Sunday hash memorable!
– Un caluroso abrazo de parte de vuestra “Stick a Dick in it”

(Ed. notes – The above has been poorly translated into English from the original Spanish with nothing but good intentions.)

On Sunday at 2:00 pm at Buggechplatz, Meme like good hare, was the first to arrive. He was  followed by the over compensating sports car of Slippery Digit, from which our beloved Zoë emerged like a thunderbolt. One by one, the others arrived until the 14 hasher contingent was complete.

We had want of nothing, we even had mini-hashers on mini bikes. The walkers started first and took care to obtain Heisse Marroni fresh out of the oven, hot chocolate, and cheesecake which we all shared at the Drink Stop. While the walkers were self-sufficient on trail,  the runners got lost on numerous occasions but eventually found their way to the drink DrinkStop with the slow runners.

Almost all the trail went through the forest, where there was some evidence of snow that was mistaken for a new brand of flour. The forest was calm and serene and offered up a beautiful vista. Once the DrinkStop finished, we continued a couple of kilometers towards the BeerStop! ¡Por fin! There was a Virgin named Paul who miraculously did not get lost on trail. Hurray


We started circle with many nominations and a round of “nominate or drink.” The beloved beer bitch, Soaked Baloney, was forced on numerous occasions to quickly down a beer to the cries of “What time is it? Time to grease the beer bitch!”

What followed was a circle of the quality and quantity of nominations that we have grown to except, culminating the in the naming of the hasher formerly known as Just Dennie. This hasher, a dentist, will henceforth be known as Cavity Search. The FOOL name was decided upon after an overly complicated voting process and an examination befitting of her name conducted by the RA.

¡Sí! mierda, estaba frío. Cavity Search, as a proper Bulgarian accustomed to the cold, stoically survived the flour and beer shower of her naming.

Saddam and Count Flashula offered up their home for a hilarious post-hash. Herzlichen Dank!

– A warm hug from your “Stick a Dick in it”

Editors Note – Think you can do better? Volunteer to do the next write-up. Please send translation support, 42, and samples of new brands of “flour” to

ZH3 Hash #1081: Check Your Beer Tolerance Hash – Write-Up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1081: Check Your Beer Tolerance Hash

Location: Indian Palace, Schaffhauserstrasse 410, Zürich, ch

Hare: What Cums in Vega

RA: Weapon of Ass Destruction; RB: Thump Her Insides

Attendance: 31 half-minds and one canine-mind

Scribe: Two racists – Facial Discrimination and The Unnamed

It was International Tolerance Day, but our hare had willfully misinterpreted the day’s true meaning in naming this hash.

And so, as so often in life, we must turn to Lady Gaga for a more profound understanding of a complex message. She has said that “tolerance, acceptance and love [are things that] feed every community” and there was a considerable amount of these things during the evening even prior to getting smashed and going gaga ourselves.

From the start, acceptance abounded as we welcomed two complete strangers to our humble congregation during chalk talk. They were no ordinary strangers, for it takes a special kind of madness to join a bunch of unfamiliar weirdos for a run in temperatures cooler than the beermeister’s fridge. Some of the more sensitive hashers among us shuffled uneasily at this whiff of insanity, but they were quickly distracted by confusion as Weapon of Ass Destruction unloaded one of his puns on us (seemingly by accident, I might add, as even he looked momentarily dazed by it).

With the exception of Facial Discrimination (whose entire being is unable to stop grimacing until he’s sweated 14 buckets and run 20 km), we all sensed our metaphorical cups overflow with heartfelt ambivalence as the virgins introduced themselves. The American Virgin Mike informed us he was American and the French one, who was actually German Tim (take note American Virgin), invited us all over to his place across the road for an orgy afterwards (I may have misheard this, but try your luck next time you’re passing).

Once chalk talk was over, we went back in to the warm and had curry. Just kidding, that would be sensible.

Once chalk talk was over, we set off in to the bitterly cold night air to find the deposits of flour that our aromated hare (Ed. Note – I think that is racist.) had laid. What Cums in Vega, Stays in Vega, out-did himself this time, for the trail could easily have been a humdrum trudge among oppressive epitaphs to Swiss architecture’s penchant for concrete, but it was instead a fortified concoction of forest paths, ambling fields and, er, Bahnhof Seebach.

As we foraged deeper into the boondocks in search of our prize, it soon became apparent that it was here that the hare would test our tolerance. For not content with sending us up hills and round bends in traditional fashion, he insisted upon inserting a few unnecessary guffaws of his own.

Several times, exasperated front-runners came to a stumbling halt and began inadvertently flagellating themselves as they fidgeted with their head torches in search of elusive third dots. So gifted was our hare that the pack’s bewilderment frequently turned to anger and then much later inflected in to admiration as third dots were eventually found six hundred meters from second dots. In testing our tolerances, he diced with death though. For were it not for dopamine, washing away our indignation upon calls of on-on at the zenith of our impatience, we may have lynched the fucker. (Ed. Note – That is racist.)

As with all great hare-jobs, it was the delicate cruelty of anticipation that made us want for more even as the hare bit down knowingly and painfully on our tender bits. The Front Running Bastards (Just Carlos, Down on My Sister, Soaked Baloney, Facial Discrimination, and Keys to the Treasure) clearly enjoyed the pain more than others, but by the seventh furlong, buried deep amongst the rest of us mortals, Sticky Fingers announced that her legs had turned to lead and that she may soon die.

The pack immediately rallied around her and did nothing. Luckily, Weapon of Ass Destruction – unexpectedly overcome with spousal duty – dug deep and managed to muster the smallest quantum of empathy humanly possible (this was a wonder to behold) and Sticky was able to stay with us for another 75 Tall Balls (150 meters) to the vaunted View Stop.

The hash constitutes such a careful balance of absurdity and purpose that it is at times a metaphor for life itself. Nothing seemed to encapsulate this more aptly than the View Stop. For it was here that purpose, in the form of lovely warm Glühwein and a moonlit view of Zürich, greeted us, while our shivering bodies simultaneously reminded us of the absurdity of standing still covered in sweat in temperatures hovering above freezing.

Had Darwin been observing us he may have wondered what adaptations nature would clumsily bestow upon us hashers in future to survive such extremes of silliness. But the future is too far away for some so I herewith propose that we invest some hash cash in a gene editing experiment to see what we can do to help some of our more delicate hashers make it through the Zürich winter. It would be a blessed relief to all of us if Keys to the Treasure no longer had to wear those vulgar tights of his, so we could start by giving him furry legs. Butt Bugger: this is undoubtedly a job for you. Slippery Digit: please release the funds straightaway – we want to see a thick carpet of ginger fluff on those pale pins by Christmas.

Back at the View Stop, our stomachs sizzled with Glühwein while our hearts warmed with the third and last of Lady Gaga’s essential ingredients for every community: love. At the mere mention of this word, some of you will no doubt be retching reflexively. Yet, Lady Gaga’s deep and eternal wisdom is, as always, undeniable.

Love came to us in the most surprising of forms: MeMe. Having set-off with his fellow walkers (Vulva Las Vegas, Just Dennie, and Christian Harlot), our intrepid hasher quite literally went the extra mile and detoured to the View Stop in order to deliver the Glühwi. But this was just one in a sequence of events that created a cumulative volume of love in the form of warm spiced grapey ethanol. For the beverage itself, though fortified and delivered by MeMe, was initially prepared by none other than our wonderful hare.

For those not paying attention to the hare’s endeavors, allow me to elucidate you with this trite surmise: it is those who at times inflict the most intolerable cruelty who may in fact be the ones who love us the most.

And so we return to where once we began and the International Day of Tolerance. Our tale would suggest that ZH3 is accepting, tolerant, and loving; the three things that Lady Gaga tells us feed every community. Are you not sated? Certainly not this scribe. Thank you Lady Gaga for bringing our awareness to the tender underbelly of the ZH3 community. On-on, lass, and stick a pair of silly socks on; we know you’re a hasher really.


It turned out that Circle was just 500 Tall Balls (1 km) away from the View Stop. It was a chilly affair; however, our spirits were raised by the announcement – and initiation – of a new RB: Thump Her Insides.

As Weapon of Ass Destruction handed over, Thump Her Insides began her reign by nominating hashers she couldn’t see. This included pretty much everyone not wearing a high visibility vest like her. It’s a wonder no one rebounded her for not simply carrying a torch. One senses that no such allowances will be made next time. Good luck, Thump ;).

Other notable downs downs went to Iberians of all persuasions for something Flash in the Pants did in absentia; quite a feat Flash!

From there on in, the rest is a blur, but it suffices to say that a number of hashers were down-downed, beer was drunk, prosecco was scoffed, and songs were sung before we all retreated to The Palace to annoy the other diners.

May the hash go in peace.

Editors Note – Think you can do better? Volunteer to do the next write-up. Please send a better poker face, multi-side die, and a beer for M. Albert Camus to

ZH3 Hash #1080: Fake-Steve-Late-1080­ – Write-Up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1080: Fake-Steve-Late-1080­

Location: McGee’s Irish Pub, Wiedikon, Birmensdorferstrasse 83, 8003 Zürich

Hare: Tall Balls

RA: Asphalt Liquor and Christian Harlot

Attendance: 27 frozen half-minds, some dogs, a visitor, and some broken people

Scribe: Grab My Sack


We ran a hash with a weird name.

Vierd wasn’t there which was a great shame.

Tall Balls laid the track

To be followed by a pack

Of drunks but MeMe chose to abstain.


Tall Balls led us on a hash chase

And led us up the Uetliberg with a smiley face

We ran fast and far

But when we got to the bar

It was so full, we had drinks at another Home base.


A bunch of sad sacks ran around the Triemlispital

Just in case anyone might slip and fall

It was the first hash in the cold

Which will never get old

Because we run with socks over our balls


Editors Note – Think you can do better? Volunteer to do the next write-up. Please send a copy of your creative license, a description of what went down at Fluffy’s apartment, and gonad coverings  to

ZH3 Hash #1079: Bonfire Night – Write-up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1079: Bonfire Night

Location: Robinsonspielplatz (47.361526, 8.584426)

Hare: Asphalt Liquor, Vulva Las Vegas, Climbidia, Shogginatrix

RA: Weapon of Ass Destruction

Attendance: 46 half-minds and two hungry dogs

Scribe: Fishy Hooker

Four subjects of the Queens, from London and from some UK’s Guam county ending by shire, happily sprinkled flour for this Bonfire Hash. Slippery Digit wittily highlighted this as an English conspiracy to avoid throwing pennies in the kitty. Or, I don’t know, something like this.

Two virgins were fool enough to join, as well as long-time-not-seen and so-long-time-not-seen they were reborn virgins – that has to be noted in the an*als. As we are celebrating Catholic plots, we can add another miracle.

The pack took off in fair spirits, the ones with legs ran to their first check-back while the ones with brains spotted it and directly trotted down the woods. Hares performed a good job to keep the pack together, given the amount of leaves threatening the marks and that fish hooks got ignored in a not great again behavior – I was an innocent witness. (Editors note: C’est vrai.)

FRB were r*nning up and down and down and up into false trails. During that time, miles away from sweat, panting, and mud; merry folks lit fires, ate chocolates, and did suspicious weaving. Back to the trail. Bushes, bitumen, and brambles were crossed, mushrooms got snubbed – no place for poetry. Except though for Keys to the Treasure, who had a dubious reading of the marking. But is that poetry? The false virgins r*n gaily by the hips. Meme got caught racing. Probably a side effect of Dry Movember. Mentioning dryness, the RA probably entered in trance to keep the rain at bay. Eventually we hit the shot stop and shots hit us. That was when the trail became shiggy. Of course. You would expect the shigginess while being sober but that’s forgetting UK citizens do everything the other way round. Nettles bit into legs, however, immunized by vodka no one bailed out. Meme was still racing. Grab Me By the P*ssy bravely led us into a massive downhill check back. The last one before the beer stop.


Too many down-downs to be counted:

  • Hares for their performance
  • Pappa F.K.K. for his Würste
  • W.A.D. for his weaving
  • True virgins, Just Amanda and Just Jennifer, for their c*mming
  • False virgins, Just Mike the Eagle Scout and Just Robert, for their hips
  • Meme for his racing
  • Slippery Digit because voilà
  • Butt Bugger and Kneels Sporadically for late coming.

To be noted, the beer bitching was perfectly orchestrated by Grab Me By the P*ssy and Fishy Hooker. The down-downs tasted awful even after mixing beer and cider. I still don’t get though why we had to down-downs on regular basis. (Editors Note: Quelle heure est-il??)

No Guys, nor bones were thrown on the fires, but sausages were grilled, Glühwein poured, and ginger cakes tasted.

Editors Note – Think you can do better? Volunteer to do the next write-up. Please send lapsed Catholics, a garden clean-up crew, and burnt offerings to

ZH3 Hash #1078: Man up and dress like a Fairy – Write-up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1078: Man up and dress like a Fairy

Location: Bonesklinic, Austrasse 19, Zürich

Hare: Naked and Wasted, Shogginatrix

RA: Weapons of Ass Destruction

Attendance: 38 half-minds and one dogs

Scribe: Butt Bugger, support from Shamcock and MeMe

Even on the 2nd of November, the darkness comes early. The group set off on their quest to find the shot stop and beer stop in full darkness. While the others ran off eagerly yelling, we (Team Cripple) squared ourselves up to the challenge grimly. Would it be beyond us?

Off we went, three people, four legs, four crutches. We soon found another pilgrim lost in the darkness. Our numbers increased, we continued to forge forward, now with 10 legs, but still four crutches. We were cautiously optimistic, but a debate grew up around the quickest and easiest way to achieve our objective. Realizing we had been led astray, our optimism dimmed but was fortified by a grim determination. We would make the shot stop. We continued on, up the hill, up into the bus, always moving upwards. The last stretch was steep, it was dark, and it was difficult. Sweat poured off of us, slicking the plastic grips of the evil crutches we were doomed to depend on. We crested the final steps to the cheers of the exultant walkers, whom we can safely say were most enthusiastic about the shot stop carried by one of our faithful group members.

We lounged, sipped slowly, relishing our victory, the vantage of our position high above the city lights well earned, well fought for. The calls of the runners sounded through the woods, indistinct but growing closer. We struggled back to our feet to greet the triumphant runners as they zero-ed in on the mead and jello shot rewards, kindly carried and hand-made with love and hopefully minimal bodily fluids, by MeMe. We knew our return journey would be slow and painful, leaving us far behind the baying crowd as they circled in towards the final beer stop. A small abuse of technology on trail summoned our savior; Yilkan, of the great city of Istanbul. We piled quickly into his black chariot and chatted and laughed as we past our sweating, and laboring, compatriots. Triumphantly reaching the bag drop with the middle of the pack runners, we invited Yilkan to come join us some Thursday evening when he wasn’t working, and turned to the task of carrying and assembling the beer stop.

The runners, who I guess probably did something cool or hard or heroic or stupid, were sweaty and steaming lightly under their tutus and fairy wings. It turns out they stupidly followed the hare when he confusedly pointed at a sheer cliff and said maybe it’s that way, but I don’t really know. The virgins were among the first up the hill, but they can’t really be blamed for their trust, as virgins, they know nothing. At this point half the hash said f*ck this and took off down the road, while the other half continued to follow and find true trail like good hashers. 

Out of Africa appeared out of the darkest stretch of wood (Editors note: That’s racist), living up to his name, but then, somehow got lost again before the circle.

Some claim it was more than 10km, so clearly they did something wrong and should try less hard. Their struggles and labors were rewarded, after a short trick uphill section, with a well stocked beer stop. The Chopfab flowed freely, street lights glinting off unicorn and viking horns, the contented chatter flying high than the less-than-20-franc wings would ever carry the hashers. Special snacks were provided, carefully and laboriously smuggled into the country over the border from a far and distant land by the diligent hariette. Strange flavors snuck into seemingly benign bags lead for an adventure filled experience, would it be plain or would it be smelly cheese and onion chips? Only one way to find out. 

The crowd reluctantly simmered into what could almost be mistaken for an attentive audience, and were not disappointed by anything other than the poor puns of the overly ambitious RA, Weapon of Ass Destruction. Though he did seem to delight with his re-christening of Grab My Sack as Kevin Spacey. Burn! Grab My Sack and Kneels Sporadically were victoriously crowned as the King and Queen of the half-assed fairy world, receiving what appears to be a pair of loafers, and a seven sided light up hentai style head mounted dildo respectively. We were awed to realize that Kneels Sporadically was actually the purveyor of both impressive, if retrospectively very similar, fairy costumes. Perhaps if she spent less time on couture she could kneel more frequently, who knows.

Finally, at last, the beer drunk, the snacks eaten, Crinchy thoroughly down-downed for her dog whom would not stay out of the circle, and the Beer Bitch thoroughly greased, we laboriously pulled ourselves to our feet for the return to the drinking horn and bra infested Bonesklinik for a last (or ten) mead (which should not be consumed by the pint. Trust me). Butt Bugger once against bested Smoking Cock in the race to the bar, confirming her position as the Queen of Team Cripple, alternatively known as the Shitty Ankle Squad. Racist behaviour is bad. Don’t do it. The after party raged long into the night, as the hashers outlasted even the grim, black clad, amazingly kind and ernest metal-head bar owners. The last hashers standing staggered out to catch the last buses and trains to their homes near and far, blissfully unaware of the misery of their future headaches. 

Notable Down Downs:

  • Too many to count for the hares – who somehow avoided dead bugs
  • Somewhere approaching a million for Crinchy for her dogs continued attempt to eat the snacks in the middle of the circle
  • On Wagons and Off Wagons and In Ubers – Butt Bugger, MeMe and Smoking Cock
  • Loves it Down Under’s rebound for her incorrectly assuming the hares should be punished for attempting to kill the hashers, incorrect in assuming that this is not the express purpose, incorrect in comparison to that time 00Semen tried to kill us on Uetliburg, or that time the Americans tried to kill with an active firing range, or that one hash where some people ran in front of a train, or that Winterfest where everyone (except three who were in the car drinking) got hypothermia …
  • MeMe made jello shots
  • Recirculated costumes, or costumes stolen from their children – too many to name
  • Costume prizes for Grab my Sack aka Kevin Spacey and Kneels Sporadically, both made by Kneels Sporadically. Special mention to the two virgins, Just Sean and Just Simon, who turned up in costume for their first time.

Venue: Bonesklinik is awesome. I think I probably had 3-4 free shots from the bartenders and believe Shoggimatrix scored even more. Welcome shots, free popcorn, very cheap booze, bras, and drinking horns on the ceiling, basically we should go there much more often. They even found a doggie water bowl for the four-legged hashers. Not to be confused with the one-footed and two crutched hashers.

Editors Note – Think you can do better? Volunteer to do the next write-up. Please send a hasher life insurance policy, better trained dog owners, and stolen drinking horns to

ZH3 Hash #1077: World Peace Through Beer – Write-up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1077: World Peace Through Beer

Location: Hare’s Hutch – Uster

Hare: Wet & Ready, Supported by Thirsty Thursday

RA: Weapons of Ass Destruction

Attendance: 24 half-minds and two dogs

Scribe: Hold My Hairy Wiener

This week the Hashers ventured outside of the familiar 110 Zone to explore the deep dark backwoods of Uster and celebrate beer in all its peace making glory. The Hashers arrived at the Hare’s hutch to discover the hare, Wet & Ready, was out finishing trail all on her own, so TT stepped up to deliver a chalk talk of sorts.

We had one virgin joining us – Just Andrea – that had no idea what we were doing from the chalk talk, but she was a good sport and followed the pack until she made some sense of things.

The trail was expertly laid and easy to follow even without a hare to herd us through the checks. To keep the pack together, there were plenty of check points, check backs, and best of all, Drink Stops. There were three drinks stops with a different international beer available at each, which were enjoyed by everyone other than Vulva Las Vegas. The first we came across after less 1km true trail, where many cans of Boddingtons were consumed. At the second stop, atop a hill, a beer so strong it can hardly be called a beer (and cannot at all be remembered by the scribe) was downed in slightly smaller quantities. At the third drink stop we were joined by our lovely hare and drank many cans of Old Speckled Hen.

The trail concluded back at the Hare’s Hutch, where items were gathered and taken to circle nearby. There we had the usual Swiss beers for drinking and wonderful snacks.

Notable Down Downs:

  • Slippery Digit was dead-bugged for requesting sexual favors from a canine and other nonsense
  • Just Andrea for being a virgin with down down assistance by Christian Harlot
  • Stick a Dick in It and Late Cummer for swapping shirts on trail
  • Hold My Hairy Wiener for her final hash with Zurich for the near future, and MeMe came in on hands and knees as a stand in Disco Bitch
  • Vulva Las Vegas for making sure the walkers didn’t miss a drink stop even though she hates beer
  • A bunch of other stuff but there was a lot of beer on trail so it was all quickly forgotten.

Venue: Hare’s hutch for bag storage and on-after at Zeughaus Bar.

Editors Note – Think you can do better? Volunteer to do the next write-up. Please send post-cards from your trip around the world, the name of the 2nd beer, and the secret to expertly laid trails to

ZH3 Hash #1076: Wiener Takes All – Write-up

 Name: ZH3 Hash #1076: Wiener Takes All

Location: Shamrock Pub, Wollishofen
Hare: Hold My Hairy Wiener, Disco Bitch, Just Ben
RA: Weapons of Ass Destruction
Attendance: 42 half-minds and one dog
Scribe: Down On My Sister

A herd of hashers arrived in old familiar Wollishofen and deposited their detritus, notably trying to avoid crushing a small baby in a pram that was left at the bag drop – it turns out, by a bartender. Infanticide, now THAT would be a way to start a hash.

After chalk talk and the introduction of virgin Just Nico – we tried not to lose him – the hash began, with everyone curious what kind of trail would be laid thanks to Disco Bitch’s wandering nose. Where would we end up? In garbage cans amongst tasty food scraps? Following strange trajectories as the Bitch chased a chipmunk? Or maybe we would just stay in a nice fleece-lined bag all hash, cuddled up against Hold My Hairy Wiener?

We followed flour down and across the hill, wondering if we would head towards the woods or towards the lake. It got darker and darker and several half-minds regretted not bringing a headlamp. The trail was well-marked and one check-back was a little too obvious, leading Flat n’ Easy to correctly intuit the turn in direction before the FRB’s had reached the offending mark. MeMe considered this poor hash behavior but what is a hasher if not a shortcutter? We all got extremely confused at an intersection (what else is new), but eventually made our way under the train tracks and down to Lake Zurich, where several hashers found it worthwhile to investigate the island despite the fact that there is only one entrance/exit and thus the trail could not lead on from there. We’re a smart bunch!

Following an aerial walkway we eventually got back on the “right side of the tracks” and everyone knew it was going to be a big hill to get to the beer stop. The trail passed by Butt Bugger’s house and despite her disabled state she hid behind a wall and scared the shit out of some FRB’s, then kindly cheered on the rest of us. Later in the climb some felt the need to try to vault a fence in order to get to their beer. Others merely laughed as the hare called us back and admonished us against going on private property.

Everyone eventually reached the finish, even the virgin, and we enjoyed beer and copious snacks, honor to Christian Harlot for correctly provisioning us. In fact everyone reached the end at practically the same time – a well-laid trail!

Aside from actual down-downs, S.C.U.M. made a lady friend during circle, congratulations S.C.U.M.

Notable Down-Downs:

  • For Hold My Hairy Wiener for haring for the last time before her departure.
  • Thumper Inside for never having seen a penis, apparently something about the dark.
  • Naked and Wasted for now being 30, my god, he’s practically dying of old age.
  • Several hashers for wearing shorts when it is clearly winter.
  • Butt Bugger for wearing many warm clothes despite being Canadian.
  • A deadbug but the scribe can’t remember who because she was probably drunk already.
  • Every time the hares drank, so did all the Austrians, because, you know, Wiener.

Venue: Familiar venue. They are nice.

Editors Note – Think you can do better? Volunteer to do the next write-up. Please send glow in the dark condoms, hot blooded Canadians, and dead baby jokes to

Thanksgiving Hash 2017

ZH3 Hash #1084

Saturday, November 25, 2017

Regular 5 CHF hash cash for the run,  30 CHF for Thanksgiving dinner (5 CHF for kids under 12; kids over 12 will be charged full price and given small beer).

Location: Bäckeranlage, Langstrasse, 8004 Zürich, Switzerland

Let us know if you are coming and what you are bringing by signing-up on this form. Please bring food!

Zurich Hash House Harriers

Migros Bank AG, 8010 Zürich
IBAN: CH74 0840 1000 0519 9117 9
Account holder: Zürich Hash House Harriers

Address: Schaffhauserstrasse 35, 8006 Zürich

Memo: ZH3 Thanksgiving 2017


(Yes, this is the same graphic as last year.)

ZH3 Hash #11xx

Saturday, November 27, 2018

Regular 5 CHF hash cash for the run,  xx CHF for Thanksgiving dinner (5 CHF for kids under 12; kids over 12-16  will be charged at yy full price for those over 16).

Location: Uster, Switzerland

Let us know if you are coming and what you are bringing by signing-up on this form. Please bring food!

Please if possible pay in advance

Zurich Hash House Harriers

Migros Bank AG, 8010 Zürich
IBAN: CH74 0840 1000 0519 9117 9
Account holder: Zürich Hash House Harriers

Address: Schaffhauserstrasse 35, 8006 Zürich

Memo: ZH3 Thanksgiving 2018


(Yes, this is the same graphic as last year.)

ZH3 Hash #1073: The Spit Roast Hash – Write-up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1073: The Spit Roast Hash
Location: Robinsonspielplatz, and in the deep dark woods
Hare: Climbidia and Papa F.K.K.
RA: Weapons of Ass Destruction
Attendance: Officially 35 hashers, dogs, and assorted offspring.
Scribe: MeMe

This is not so much a story of the hash, but of the build-up, the delivery, the smuggling, the kiddy scaring, the cooking, the acrobatic carving, and the many occurrences surrounding the hash itself!

It wasn’t your average, Ho-hum run of the mill hash. I want to Mention ROUSs but I don’t think they exist!

Where to begin? The hash was aptly named ‘Spit roast hash’ due to the cooking method employed to prepare the sacrificial offering. How was this obtained? The Piggy was smuggled across the border under the cover of darkness by one of the co-hares Papa F.K.K.

Once delivered to a secret location on the outskirts of Zürich, off-spring units were informed of the delivery of said Piggy. This news was met with much squealing (not by the piggy) and excitement by the offspring units. A short lived event as the kids were introduced to the dressed, albeit eyeless piggy in the boot of the car. Where she/he lay until the early morning. The sex of the ‘It was bought in a Cash deal’ Piggy was not discussed between the smuggler and the providing abattoir, and was only discussed in and around the fire pit.

The Piggy was moved ‘to location’ in the early hours for a slow roasting. 0700 was discussed. The fire was set, and the slowly rotating piggy was guarded for the forthcoming 7-8 hours by Just Joe with further support from Stogie Gibberish. Any romantic visions of slaves standing fireside will unfortunately have to disappear as the electric rotisserie was powered by a car battery, provided by Slippery Digit. (Who had to carry the car battery home, when nobody was sober! No good deed goes unpunished!)

Fast forward to the early afternoon: Several Virgins attended, one of whom came from Liechtenstein as “There is nothing to do there and I have had to travel 2 hours to get here”. 2 others that ran too much, but more on them later. And another local guy with a big beautiful dog.

More than a few regular hashers also arrived with side dishes in hand. Our GM, Asphalt Licker, brought home made red cabbage. Many salads were also provided. Scribe never saw who brought what so cannot name. There were 2 fantastic cakes. In the words of Cheesy Balls, the walnut cake, prepared by Sticky Fingers was, “Dreadful … As I only got one piece!”

So on to the hash itself. Most noticeable in the chalk talk was the over emphasized ‘Boar & Piglet’ split. The extra-long Boar section when compared to the super short Piglet turned out to be about 60m different in length. I guess that the hares have to amuse themselves somehow.

The weather forecast was dreadful … but wrong. Fantastic weather. Scribe did about 10Km. Two of the virgins did +14Km, came in 1st etc. Enjoyed it and said they would be back. Some previously used trail, but plenty of virgin territory …

At the circle and On-In. The hashers arrived to a table full of food, Piggy slow roasting, and circle. Impatient hashers continually distracted wanting to be fed.

Noticeable Down-Downs?

  • Obviously the smuggling Hare & when one Hare drinks…
  • Virgins/ visitors / over achievers
  • Food providers
  • There was a dead bug
  • Grab my Sack did something. (Scribe should really scribe the day after, not 10+ later!)
  • Slippery Digit for “Piggy was driven by my juices”, less said about that the better really.
  • Dog owners for errant dogs in circle – Slippery Digit, Hold My Hairy Wiener, and 1 Just Dog Owner.
  • The other 2 unnamed virgins were down downed for ‘Winning and over achieving’.
  • Anyway short circle, due to excess slobbering of persons eyeing up Piggy.

Not in circle but a noticeable performance by Climbidia for bearing down on Piggy, with carving knives in hand. I am sure that straddling Piggy from above was not necessary, but it looked good.

All hashers finally left with very happy, with full bellies, and plenty of leftovers.

Editors Note – Think you can do better? Volunteer to do the next write-up. Please send leftovers, an Uber for Slippery Digit, and more walnut cake to

ZH3 Hash #1072: Border Patrol Write-up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1072: Border Patrol
Location: Restaurant Gartenhof – Testarossa, Seestrasse 15A, 8805 Richterswil, Switzerland
Hare: Spunky McSpunk Face
RA: Weapons of Ass Destruction
Attendance: Officially 16 hashers (5 no shows, may their beer be given to thirsty hashers), one non-lost dog, and a red woolly blanket
Scribe: The Shamcock

After making the long and arduous journey from Zürich to the border town of Richterswil, and enduring the horror of crossing many a SBB zone, the main herd of hashers arrived in a timely fashion to the On-In.  They then had to endure frustrated beer drinking due to, several late comers and worry about the silent no shows, who we assumed had been kidnapped by the evil citizens of Canton Schwyz. Yes, we had traveled so far that we were on the borders of this hellish Canton.

With a brief chalk talk we moved out, the hare’s warnings of hostile natives echoing in our ears.

We set off at a brisk pace, following flour down to the lake, knowing in the back of our minds that the steep hill was behind us. The trail was well marked and the cries of On-On echoed through the dark streets. It was indeed steep with many a check back, which unlike last week the hashers actually ran. At one point, there was a collective “readers block”, which surprisingly happened at the UF check back.  This occurred at the border of Zürich where the hostility of the locals was greatest and the hill the steepest. Fortunately, after most of the hashers arrived the “readers block” resolved itself and we were able to continue.

The hare’s tales about the natives proved true. One local admitted to removing trail, but turned out to be a friendly fellow. He explained that he thought they were marks made by burglars, marking the houses, and so had them removed. After assuring him we were just a bunch of runners looking for beer at the end of the trail, we moved on enduring the hostile stares of many a native and even the slow drive of a large BMW.

And so on to circle. Snacks were provided by Weapon Ass Destruction
Also, under the new Beer-raiser system, drinks were provided by MeMe & Ice-Footsie, down down cups were forgotten so we drank out of our cans.

Notable Down-Downs:

  • Eat my pussy was dead bugged for head gear in the circle (multiple head gears in the circle)
  • JUST Selma for impeccable hair style after the run
  • Loves It Down Under for Red Rocketing, please ask Weapon Ass Destruction for an exact description, but basically LIDU was rubbing Ice Footse’s dog`s penis.
  • Shamcock for being tea bagged by Ice Footse’s dog, there seems to be a trend
  • Thirsty Thursday for getting his cast chewed on by (guess who?) Ice Footse’s dog who was having a blast.
  • Spunky McSpunk Face for getting lost on his own trail
  • The usual boring sex in circle for Shamcock and LIDU
  • Circle ended when a few drops of rain fell and the hashers ran like pansies as if they were made of sugar

Venue: Cheap beer. Food very good, reasonable prices. Restaurant was hash friendly and glad to serve us

Editors Note – Think you can do better? Volunteer to do the next write-up. Please send a definition of “readers block”, interesting sex, and running pansies to

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