Never Cums

Bumper Christmas Double Issue Run Report

In keeping with our competitors such as the Beano and Dandy, we’ve decided to club together to bring you a bumper double issue xmas run report. (or just didn’t get round to sending out the first one in time – you choose the excuse).

Anyway, the reports belong to Sneaky Bastard and Chris no-name-for-not-very-much-longer.

Three cheers again to them and their cohorts Shepherd’s B & Anne of C for organising a spiffing bun fight on the Saturday night. When goaded to make a comment about it, Boots confirmed that her Malaysian entourage had found it the highlight of their French escapade, even more so than touring Paris in an open top bus in the middle of December. Crumbs, praise indeed.

A decent crowd turned out for the hair of the dog run, surprisingly all in good fettle (well, Cumalot was complaining about his insides being tossed about, but enough of his nocturnal activities). A fair chunk of people nevertheless decided to call it a day. They were presumably the hungover ones who couldn’t face more antics.

So, Sneaky Bastard, welcome to the world of haring. His voice hoarse after acting the MC all night (and jolly well he did so), the instructions could not have been simpler. "Down the main road & turn left just after the garage where you’ll be on trail".

You know what, he was right, we did find trail. Lots of it, in fact, all uphill. The sneaky ba&%$rd! Given that this was good road running territory, Supermarket Trolley showed her mettle by whizzing off and leaving everyone else stranded. But drat, what was this? A little flour becoming nothing, Big End trying to get some peace & quiet in the bushes & the pack racing past her to……the beer car! Hurrah!

Nobody was more surprised about this than stand in beer meister Padre, especially as we were only 10 minutes into the run. "Bugger off & find the trail; come back in an hour etc etc" was the sort of hyperbole emanating as he clearly needed time to sleep off his hangover.

Bizarrely, the hash did exactly as it was told and ended up on an assault course through barbed brambles as we headed even uphill in search of the elusive flour. Eventually, the uphill gave way to downhill-ish. This allowed front runners such as new generation family El Toro to tear ahead with Henry-a lot (age 7 ¾) in tow. It also allowed Cumalot to start panicking about where the heck his son had got to.

From here, the run lost it. We were in the middle of a forest, well into injury time (ie where’s the blinkin’ beer?) and the flour had just disappeared. Fortunately, we had ol’ truffle hunter El Toro with us and he took it on himself to sniff out a route ("just follow me to the brown gold", he said). So we did and, guess what? We found the road we had come up way back when but no beer.

Executive decision time was easy – back to the hotel and sod the beer stop. Which was fine, but what about poor old Padre? Given that we needed an RA, the kindly front runners hopped into Sadist’s car and rescued him from his hangover in the beer car.

And so it was time for the circle, replete with decent English beer "Would madam care for a Bishop’s Finger?". Unfortunately and as is happening all to often as I advance in years, I can’t remember who was "congratulated" for doing what. So, I’ll keep it simple:

Thanks to Sneaky Bastard for setting a good run. Given all the other organising done that weekend, it really was great of him to find the energy to show us bits of the Var that we had not seen before.

Onon was chez Shepherds Bush & Anne of Cleavage, in their beautiful house complete with winter warming soup, pies & tarts (the cooked variety, you dirty minded so & so…..). Oh, and also the stray dog that had decided to befriend Pedo during the hash. (Bet you though I had forgotten that bit, eh?). Yep, the tagless scruffy mutt had decided to hash with us, to the extent of causing traffic chaos by belting into the middle of the road & then joining the circle. Unbelievably, Pedo didn’t leave it there and actually brought it to the onon. My only question is for Farty Bum – Did she charge it a run fee?

‘Twas the Sunday before the Sunday before Christmas, meaning that the hashing community clearly had better things to do than get up early to scarper over rocks overlooking the Grande Corniche.

5 minutes to go to the start and, by some miracle, Klingon has actually arrived to his own has on time. But not many others had. Looks like a small but perfectly formed one, then…wait….3 minutes to go & here’s Jobsworth…..2 minutes & it’s Dingus & Sudsucker…..this is more like it…but, heck, we have no beer meister…..problem….no answer to the frantic phone calls….what to do?

Delayed start it was and, suddenly, over the horizon cums Cumalot, who feebly admitted that he had sailed on past La Turbie to Menton. Xmas shopping, methinks. Anyway, the damage was done & the beer stop was cancelled, to cut the run time down.

This being a Christmas hash, fancy dress was expected and, of course, Padre & Big End were fully in the swing of it. So much so that Padre’s bauble earrings fell off repeatedly, to be earnestly picked up by Chris No Name Just Yet.

On on it was to a check, with the hash following its natural order of Cumalot & Jobsworth in the lead, with Dingus way behind, as always. This wasn’t to last as Klingon had forgotten to mention that we were playing Aberdeen rules today (no, not deep fried mars bars & punch ups in the bar). In fact it was a different bar that caused the problem; the bar that substitutes as a cross that he had forgotten to mention.

Fortunately, Dungus was alert & guided the hashers back, to be met by a very late Too Cheeky, Dire Rear and Bozo (sorry, but I never can remember the dog’s name). Bisous as we weren’t yet sweaty and then on on once more through the mist of a cloudy day.

This run was getting too easy. Bozo (as he is now christened) and Tessa the dogs led the way, save to stop in puddles & then jump up at assembled hashers. But whoah, Klingon had devised a fiendish plan to put these dogs in their place. Flashback to the start – Klingon was proudly showing off the cuts all over his legs. Yeaahhhh, bramble time. Not only that, ankle twisting time from clambering over slippy rocks whilst avoiding the brambles time.

The best was yet to come. The good thing about hashing in the Fort de la Revere is that you are never far from road. The bad thing about Klingon’s route to said road was a sheer 6 foot drop to get there. Dire Rear really was uncomfortable at this point & said her adieux to Too Cheeky, but Bozo took it in his stride – well, he did after he was pushed! Tessa, meanwhile, did the opposite, by slipping her collar & scarpering. It took a while, but Klingon finally coaxed her down the easy route (which, by the way, most sane hashers had taken anyway!).

After this rock climbing/abseiling without ropes experience, things could only get better. And they did, for all of 5 minutes before we were back on to the slippery rocks and heading in the general direction of the cars.

A final check and a false trail to the cars. Dingus, Sudsucker & Jobsworth elected to take it, but then realised that Cumalot was some way behind, so decided to continue on trail to complete the last bitter 15 minutes (torture, this, running when you know you are so close to beer!)

1hour 45. Not bad at all for a beerstopless hash. Time for some down downs, ably administered by Dingus. Again, apologies for those I forgot to mention:

Hare – Klingon

Failed dog trainer – Jobsworth

Latecomers – Pretty well everyone, but specifically Cumalot, Too Cheeky & Dire Rear

Mugless – Jobsworth

Visitors/Virgins – Hhhhrhhhhrear (or something like that. You know, make the gutteral Dutch sound & hope); Dire Rear & Too Cheeky’s late arriving friend

Sneaky Bastard for Various atrocities

SoW could only be one person – Cumalot for dereliction of duty by turning up too late & forcing us to abandon the beer stop

And finally, after 1 year, Chris noname got what she had been dreading for some time "Please make sure it’s something that I can say in front of my mum & son". Despite our best efforts to be crude, rude & puerile, she will forthwith be known as "Jingle Balls" in hash circles.

Circle closed, off it was to a wizard restaurant in La Turbie for Sunday lunch and banter. Last word to Jingle Balls who, after being a hasher for 12 month, turned to Padre and asked "what’s the significance of onon on your t shirt?" It’s never too late for a renaming…..