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ZH3 Hash #1086: The Gunky Appendages Hash – Write-up 

Name: ZH3 Hash #1086: The Gunky Appendages Hash
Location: Grain,  47°22’34.6″N 8°33’33.2″E
Hares: Sticky Fingers and Slippery Digit
RA: Weapon of Ass Destruction RB: Thumper Insides
Attendance: 33 hashers, 2 dogs, and a man wearing Christmas trousers.
Scribe: Just Tobias

Two virgins and one visitor graced us with their presence. Just Zsuzsa and Just Ioannis impressed with their exotic names and linguistic talents, but Polly Wanna Crack Whore (Washington D.C. – Everyday is Wednesday H3)  just made everyone wonder what exactly happened. No-one got the name of the hash right.

Surfaces were slippery, sticky in places, dark and cold, but digits and fingers were wrapped up. The trail offered something for people of all creeds and colours, as long as those people get off on woods, shiggy, and telling clumps of snow and flour apart. Yours truly is one of those people, and reached the end with a raging semi.


Located at a record-breaking proximity to the venue, circle formed around a welcome fire. Just Joe was recognised for c*mming on a Thursday. Spunknik unexpectedly commemorated her 100th hash and Grab My Sack has survived around turn around the sun. Polly Wanna Crack Whore gained favour with his recital of an old ditty by the name of ‘Hot Vaginas’. Bierathloners, virgins and hares were all noted.

On-Inn at Grain:
Like before, we had a room to ourselves, a good variety of drinks, and food which both looked nice and probably tasted nice too, praise be.

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ZH3 Outstation: Bierathlon & Küplilauf 2017 – Write-up

Name: ZH3 Outstation: Küplilauf and Bierathlon 2017
Location: Richi’s Kiosk, Zürich – 47°21’01.9″N 8°31’05.2″E
Hare: 21st Annual Bierathlon Course
RAs: Asphalt Liquor and Weapon of Ass Destruction
Attendance: 23 hashers
Scribe: ZH3 Committee


Sali zämme. Perhaps you attended the 21st annual Bierathlon or perhaps you did not. Either way, you paid for it, as it was a hash sponsored event, so grab a beer and read on for some of the details from the events that transpired on 2 December 2017.

The cold that settled down for kaffi und kuchen did not deter the sumo wrestlers, the Disney princesses, tropical jungle animals, or even Die Spanier from coming out for foolishness and frivolity. Two by two we were to march through muck and mire propelled by wind as well as fire.

Arriving with the advanced team at 10:00, Slippery Digit helped clean the swamps that surrounded Richi’s Kiosk. Richi’s was the HQ for the day’s festivities and without these efforts the race would have been impossible. (Or at least much more squidgy.) SD also acted as chief organizer, money collector, liaison with the locals, and securer of our 12 slots across the two competitions. It is safe to say that without his efforts, the ZH3 would not have been able to continue our participation in this event. For this we are forever grateful.

MeMe came next and staked claim to some of the only paved real estate in the area. He added to the supply of dry land with his table and filled it with a spread of food and strong drink. Of the six table legs, five kept to the ground. Drop on Trail was not impressed. For this we are forever grateful.

By 14:00, everyone gathered to watch the start of the Küplilauf. Drop on Trail and Just Tobias led the way dressed in scrubs stolen from a local children’s hospital. Stick a Dick In It and WAD followed dressed as hashers. Super Squatty Potty and One Night Wonder swooped in to the middle of the pack. Christian Harlot and Butt Bugger limped their way around the track. This event marks Butt Bugger’s first post-op competition, coming in as a last minute substitute for the suspiciously missing Sticky Fingers. The final two teams were sadly marked as DNF because they were having too much fun to return their crate to the finish line. Just Selma and MeMe caught some sort of Christmas virus. Shogginatrix and Cavity Search were all smiles, as they showed off their dance moves in sumo suits.

After the dust had settled, the Bierathaon began at 15:00 with pandemonium as 210 teams streamed across a 2.5 meter gap in some shrubbery. There was a lot of experience on the field and thankfully no major injuries were reported. Facial Discrimination and Fishy Hooker set the pace, looking more confused then fearsome as skeletons. Next, resplendently plumed, were Dr. Knob and Saddam dressed as the male members of Abba. Wife and husband team, Asphalt Liquor and Papa FKK came next, dressed as a pirate and a parrot. LIDU and Shamcock, stole the show and likely broke the bank, dressed as a nut and bolt complete with electric lights. Two non-Yorkshire men dressed as Yorkshire men, Slippery Digit and Climbidia, came in in just over an hour after consuming their 10 beers, a flask of whiskey, hummus wraps, sausages, and small lamb. Finally, Ms. Fucktober and Stogie Gibberish, dressed as nerds rounded out the competition.

Post-race, no one was so drunk that they need to be carried away from the field of play. Some needed to be hauled away from the disco ball but most went quietly. We broke camp and headed for the hills. Before the train arrived, Asphalt Liquor and WAD ran a short messy circle. Before pulling away from the station, an over served bystander was prodded onto the train and later assisted by Fishy Hooker and Drop on Trail. (For which she is forever grateful.)  A short but scandalous train trip featured the hashers informing the denizens of Zürich about the condition of both Yogi Bear’s and the president of the United States’s genitalia. We are a classy bunch.


Climbidia generously hosted and toasted the hashers at his home. Pizza, crisps, a rouge sandwich, beer, leftover Thanksgiving wine, and water were consumed in earnest. For this we are forever grateful.

A mostly tame affair compared to nearly naked parties of yesteryear, but each of us took heroic draughts from the horn of plenty and then departed, one by one, into the cold dark night.


Bierathlon – 3 Liter saufen, 6.8 km laufen
Amalgamated Hash Name Rank Overall Category Category Rank Official Time Comments
Facial Hooker 36 FM 3 44:40 Were you suppose to be Pandas?
Dr. Sadoknob 62 +100 13 50:39 Dancing Queens
Liquor FKK 83 FM 14 54:49 The suit still fits!
Shams it Down Under 114 FM 17 1:02:23 Best Costume
S.T. Digit 129 MM 87 1:07:16 We use to dream of living in a corridor.
Fucktober Gibberish DNF FM DNF 1:50:00 Get er’done.
Küplilauf – 1 Flasche Prosecco geniessen – 2.7 km laufen
Amalgamated Hash Name Rank Overall Category Category Rank Official Time Comments
Drop Tobias 20 FM 5 16:51 More beer please!
Dick Destruction 68 FM 26 30:13 Que frio!
Butt Harlot 71 FF 40 33:31 Can we see the Strava replay?
Potty Wonder 72 FF 41 34:36 Superduper
Me Selma Me DNF FM DNF 1:50:00 Naughty or Nice?
Cavitynatrix DNF FF DNF 1:50:00 Huge in Japan

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ZH3 Hash #1085: The Pink Hash – Write-up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1085: The Pink Hash

Location: Culmannstrasse 1, 8006 Zürich – Jimmy’s Pizzeria

Hare: Ice Footsie

RA: Asphalt Liquor

Attendance: 18 hashers and two dogsicles

Scribe: Just Amanda


Yo check one two yoooo

The realest rapper in the game man you already know…

My name’s just Amanda ‘n I gotta tale

Bout a lad named Ice Footsie’s pretty pink trail

It started out cool, up and up we went

Deep into the woods til our legs were spent

It snowed just a little, then a little more

Til that white fluffy shit covered the whole damn floor

Ice Footsie came along he tried to help us out

But that hare he didn’t know what he was talkin’ bout

Those FRBs, man, they got fucking lost too

Facial D, neon tights I’m talkin’ bout you

On on to the circle, Asphalt Licker, religious adviser?

Hallelujah, sing praise, the best circle organizer?

Just Joseph even brought us our own Virgin Mary

Down downs for the virgin, involuntary

She goes by Maria, from somewhere cold and far

Hold up was it Canada or the USSR?

Just Joe and Schogginatrix lookin’ fine in pink

But for being overachievers we made them drink

My name’s just Amanda I’m the realest OG

Hashing through the snow reppin’ ZH3

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ZH3 Hash #1084: THANKSGIVING HASH – Write-up


Location: Bäckeranlage, Zürich – 47°22’40.2″N 8°31’26.8″E

Hare: Thirsty Thursday and Cavity Search

RA: Weapon of Ass Destruction and Asphalt Liquor

Attendance: 69 hashers signed up, let’s leave it at that.

Scribe: Spunknik

In preparation for the Polyball, Zürich’s finest curled their eyelashes and tied their bowties, while completely unawares that they were only going to the second coolest event held on the last Saturday of every November. In different parts of town, Zürich’s something or others laced up old shoes and slipped into shirts with garnish slogans. The city did not know what it was in for.

The hashers received an unusual triple treat, three trails: runners, walkers, and horrors. The rain that morning had been heavy. In the best of times, we had trouble distinguishing a single trail. These were not the best of times. We began in a rush of adrenaline, fanning out across Weidikon and filling the Swiss silence with cries of, “On on!” The virgin running next to me said that she was confused. So was I. So were we all.

Several times, the FRBs ran straight through, calling out for marks I never saw. Meme called them sheeple. He also followed. I would run back whenever I noticed the hares, the unlikely duo Cavity Search and Thirsty Thursday, lingering behind, and find freshly laid flour. Asphalt Liquor had brought her mother. Weapon of Ass Destruction wanted to know what she was called. Mrs. Liquor perhaps? We got our fill of shiggy mucking through a school field. It was not long before we converged on Triemli. The markings became superpositions (ed. note – Look it up.), inviting confusion on the scale of Schrödinger’s Cat. Many hashers followed their instincts, where if there is an Uetliberg then we must go up. The rest of us were unsure and we loitered on the train tracks until the hares appeared. Yes, we must go up and with that the wave function of our uncertainty collapsed.

Thirsty Thursday was grumpy. If he had to go up the Uetliberg then so should we! We ran on through the forest and farms, a pair of adorable bunnies and a horse our only witnesses. As we ran back down closer to the beer stop, the trail took a dramatic turn back up the Ueltiberg. FRBs bolted ahead, but Ice Footsie had his doubts. This trail carried the stale scent of Tall Balls. I decided to trust Ice Footsie over the FRBs, and followed him back through the streets that he knew so well. We returned to the warmth of the beer stop where jackets, drinks, snacks, and people who could not be bothered to hash for their turkey awaited. Being of the anything-but-beer persuasion, I was happy to see so much cider thanks to Butt Bugger. However, her heart had been bigger than her foot and when she realized she actually could not carry them, she had summoned Stick a Dick in It for assistance.


Asphalt Liquor and Weapon of Ass Destruction ran a tidy circle. There were down downs for virgins and visitors alike. One visitor, Lifa from Chicago H3, said this was his fourth Thanksgiving this week. I wondered if this was on purpose. While we had enjoyed our run outside, Christian Harlot and her minions had been busy preparing a feast inside. So we made her drink beer. Weapon of Ass Destruction wore yellow neon everything. So we made him drink beer. Just Leo sported his own rather fashionable yellow neon coat. We did not make him drink beer.


Then came the crowning moment of the evening. Dare I call ‘hash of the year’ too early? We feasted on the fruits of the Harlot’s labours, as well as offerings from hashers myriad. Several turkeys, vegetables, salads, sauces, pies, cakes, cookies, were had by all. I enjoyed my seat at the only adult only table. At some point Dr. Nob produced champagne so good it did not need orange juice. I thought I had eaten so much that I would not be able to walk. The Macarana proved me wrong. Flash in the Pants informed me that Macarana was some woman’s name, thus ruining my childhood.


As the night wound down and the limbo lost its lustre, someone had the brilliant idea to move the party to Bonesklinik. Apparently hashers and metalheads mix well together, unlike oil and water. More like sweat and mercury. Because we had not had enough alcohol, we procured several rounds of mead. The jukebox did not have enough Nickleback for Naked and Wasted and not enough female-fronted symphonic metal for me. Shoutouts to the pirate, the popcorn, and Miss Fucktober’s galaxy-themed backpack.


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ZH3 Hash #1083: @realthanksgiving – Write-up

Name: ZH3 Hash #1083: @realthanksgiving

Location: Felsenrainstrasse Parc (2nd week in a row)

Hare: Dr. Knob

RA: Weapon of Ass Destruction and Asphalt Liquor

Attendance: 28 hashers

Scribe: KG Bitch

Стая хешеров сгруппировалась около вьетнамского ресторана.
Доктор Ноб начал объяснять как сегодня будет отмечен трейл.
В общем и целом ничего нового, кроме специального символа К – опциональный “крючок” – все кому не лень могут намотать лишний круг как только увидят этот знак. Мне как и многим было лень.
К – означает “ключ к сокровищам”. Но чувак с именем “ключ к сокровищам” не пришел, и Доктор Ноб сильно горевал по этому поводу. Как он мог не придти?!

Трейл проходил через лес. Лес был полон лошадей и подозрительных личностей. Пахло свежим навозом…
Надышавшись коровьими испарениями, “Схвати-мой-мешок” начал гоняться за машинами по круговому перекрестку.

После трейла все собрались в “круг”. Внезапно оказалось, что сегодня, “День Благодарения”. Мы, все не-американцы, дружно выпили в честь этого. Вместо индейки были чипсы и поп-корн.
Обсуждение плавно перешло к необыкновенному таланту “Оружие Поражения Задниц”. Он клево вяжет крючком и связал уже многим хешерам держатели для пива. (я, как и многие, тоже была бы не против иметь такой 😉 )
Было много номинаций связанных с тем что кто-то кого-то или что-то трогает. Но, опустим грязные детали.

Как говорится в русской поговорке: “Краткость – сестра таланта”.
Так что это все, что я хотела сказать.


После трейла все собрались в “круг”. Внезапно оказалось, что сегодня, “День Благодарения”. Мы, все не-американцы, дружно выпили в честь этого. Вместо индейки были чипсы и поп-корн.
Обсуждение плавно перешло к необыкновенному таланту “Оружие Поражения Задниц”. Он клево вяжет крючком и связал уже многим хешерам держатели для пива. (я, как и многие, тоже была бы не против иметь такой 😉 )
Было много номинаций связанных с тем что кто-то кого-то или что-то трогает. Но, опустим грязные детали.

Как говорится в русской поговорке: “Краткость – сестра таланта”.
Так что это все, что я хотела сказать.


(Ed. Note – The above has been translated poorly using resources produced by evil capitalists.)

Darkness fell. A herd of hashers clumped around a Vietnamese restaurant. The hare, Dr. Knob, explained the trail was marked.

Overall nothing new, except for the special symbol K – an optional fishhook – for all of those  who were not too lazy. I, like many were lazy.
K stood for “the key to the treasure.” But the guy with that name did not come, and Dr. Knob was quite bitter about it. Why wasn’t he there?

The trail passed through the forest. The forest was full of horses and suspicious persons, mostly hashers. There was the smell of fresh manure …
High from inhaling the evaporated cow shit, “Grab-my-sack” began to chase cars around a roundabout.


After the trail, everyone gathered in a “circle”. It turned out that today was “Thanksgiving”. All non-Americans, amicably drank in honor of this stupid holiday. Instead of turkey, there were chips and popcorn. The discussion smoothly passed to the extraordinary talented “Weapons of Defeat of Asses” (Ed. note: This is what google translate did with it. Name change). He has knit and crocheted many a beer holder and brought these people closer.  I, like many, would not mind having such an item, but I persisted without.

There were many nominations related to the fact that someone was touching someone or something. But, let us not dwell on the the sordid details.

As they say in the Russian proverb: “Brevity is the sister of talent”.
That is all.

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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”

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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.

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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

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