Chaos and mayhem some might answer, and they'd be right. A Hash week-end others might answer and they'd be right too. But the only really true answer is that what we got was the first ever ScandiJock week-end. This brainchild (!) of Junior Turd and Floater was held in Stockholm, Sweden. They set out with four empty hands, two empty heads and one empty hostel, and in true blue Hash tradition ended in much the same way.

The first day started off easily enough, as it should be, with sign-up at the hostel and perhaps a beer or two at the Shakesprick (sorry Shakespeare) pub close by the hostel. Then a quick haul over to the Ox's Tail where the non-Hashers soon decided to give up before they where inundated by drunken Hashers. Clever Dick, the official de-virginizer of the Stockholm Hash worked the female crowd, and let me just say this; there are a few Harriettes that shouldn't be wearing white in the future. With the bar to themselves the Hashers began to party in earnest, and when proprietor Alan tried to make them go home by removing the chairs it was taken as an invitation to dance! And dance they did, long into the night.

Thus there was something of a sorry bunch that gathered outside the hostel the next afternoon. Luckily Junior Turd arrived with the beer wagon while we waited for Floater to return from laying the trail. Almost all were there except for notable Hashers Oink!, Mimi and Standing Ovation who had been waylaid by Sugar Kane. He wanted to show off his new “estate” somewhere south of town. There he treated them with plenty of whiskies, and we'll leave them there for the time being.

Floater finally arrived, complaining that he'd lost a can o' beer on the trail, and the pack was sent off zigzagging its way in a more or less northerly direction. Being tricky enough, and with the help of a short-cut of two, it even gave lazy wankers such as me and Ingrid Larssen a chance to try on some FRBing. Well, as a walking runner it's always nice to see runners having to overtake you on the trail, over and over again - we run smarter, not faster! The trail led us past (not through!) the Hops Garden (Humlegården) up towards the Royal Technical College (Kungliga Tekniska Högskolan) where we had a wee whisky stop. Actually it was more of a whisky-fizz stop as the only water the Hares had found was fizzy. Perhaps we should be thankful it wasn't fuzzy.

After this it was only a shortish trail to a parking lot by the tennis stadium. A good place for the hounds of the pack to rest together with plenty of other mutts, as it seemed to be a very popular spot for dog owners. A beer and a ham-and-cheese roll later (and a wee nap by McGoose on top of some garbage cans, where Hughieee Blllaaarrrgghhh and Bruce Almighty suggested we leave him) the pack was once again sent off onto the trail. Within a minute or so Floater to his great delight found his lost beer and we ran out of luck. Pretty soon the rain started, and I'm not talking about a light summer drizzle here, it was an ice cold torrent that froze our bones to the marrow. Already soaking wet I doubt any of the pack appreciated the shiggy Floater had found for us deep in the forest. A long detour along a railway didn't help the mood, especially since front runners and SCBs stood in the shelter of the Uggleviksparken gazebo and “cheered” us on with hoots and horns. The last drink stop suffered us a rather nasty mix of vodka and lingonberry JOKK, which went down even if it was with a frown.

After that ordeal it was more or less a straight line back to the hostel for the circle. It took a while to organize since almost everyone wanted to change into a dry shirt. But finally we were gathered under a shelter on the opposite side of Sveavägen with a small cooler of down-down beers ferociously guarded by Floater. The man then started off the circle by appointing me RA, thanks very much for the non-existent heads-up by the way. But it was nothing else to do than to scan the crowd for silly apparel. To nobody's surprise down-downs were handed out for both silly socks and for silly hats. Quite early on the circle was disturbed by Oink!, Mimi and Standing Ovation who arrived more or less in one piece from the land of Sugar Kane. Standing Ovation a bit later on tried to get his vocal cords under control, accusing Screamer of being a man or something like that. His imitation of the butler from the sketch “Dinner for One” in the last stages was absolutely spot on! Not before long we ran out of beers and Standing Ovation and the Vicar led us in a rather unruly version of Swing Low, and as usual people came all over the place, and not two at the same time.

We had time for a beer or two at the Shakesprick (damn, wrong again) before making our way over to the Ox. There chef-of-the-day Junior Turd handed us our drink tickets, and then we were subjected to a sight you don't see everyday - Malibog behind the bar! Together with Alan he made sure the beers kept on flowing down thirsty throats. Junior Turd had really pulled out all the stops and imported a load of genuine Scottish haggis, which he served with the rather Swedish speciality “rotmos” a mash of swedes and spuds. McGoose immediately joined the pubs staff (and together with Malibog has been nominated for the Stockholm's Ugliest Serving Wenches competition) and made sure we all had our fills, both two and three times over. Once again the party went on long into the night, making me wonder how many would join us on next day's Hangover run, organized by SPOR&DIC H3, with yours truly and Ingrid Larssen as Hares.

For me and Ingrid Larssen it was up bright and early to lay the trail. Approximately ? of the pack was missing as we set out, but there were enough runners to make sure our efforts of laying long runners' loops wasn't wasted. Actually they worked out so good that the runners didn't have to do any checking, the Hashers had solved them all! The majority of the pack followed the Hashers' trail together with us Hares. Through the outskirts of Observatorielunden (The runners ran up the whole hill!), then through the Ghost Park (Spökparken) and along Drottninggatan, across Norra Latin's yard and a tricky check on-through parts of the Central station. Another long loop around the Karlberg's canal made sure the Hashers were already in place at the drink stop with cold beers in their hands, when the runners came along the other bank. McGoose decided to test the water quality and temperature, both low, by swimming across the canal. RA Hughieee Blllaaarrrggghh eagerly wrote down all sins big and small with a borrowed pen. After the drink stop the trail followed the canal for a bit more, before crossing over to Tegnerlunden where the circle was to be. A few of our foreign visitors decided to second guess us Hares, and of course ended up way behind the pack. This wasn't really a problem as we had to wait for Hughieee Blllaaarrrggghhh to translate his short-hand notes into gibberish and for Bruce Almighty to return from the hostel with yet another bottle of uisge beatha, G knows how they managed to carry all those bottles. Well seeing how Hughieee Blllaaarrrggghhh had left all his clothes at home that might be the answer.

Despite not being able to read his own handwriting Hughieee Blllaaarrrggghhh did a good solid job of the circle, and I'm sure that everyone that got a down-down deserved it. And thanks to the RA the rain stayed away, and thank G that Tegnerlunden was almost devoid of children and family outings, so we weren't disturbed at all (except for Stockholm's own cosmic man Thomas Di Leva who glided past in a purple robe) After the Hash Hymn, and some more shameless merchandising by the SPOR&DIC Haberdasher (i.e V.D.Viking) we retreated to Dovas City for food, drinks and farewells, and to say good morning to Standing Ovation. It also gave us a last chance to laugh at the poor slobs who were camping at the curb just outside (along one of the busiest streets in Stockholm), waiting 2 ½ weeks for to buy the newest Grand Theft Auto video game dirt cheap.