RIVIERA HASH TRASH 544
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A Right (Wing) Royal Bar Room Brawl

"Où est le papier?" was what the hash expected to hear ringing from all municipal buildings on this, the most eagerly awaited day in the French political calendar. Yes, news had got out that Sadist was setting a run! Not only this, but he was intent on doing some last minute canvassing of voters.

Bar sur Loup looked sprightly in the wet sunshine that had Royally buggered up Sadist’s flour trail. Undeterred, he had been out in the morning lovingly preparing for the trail of his life. He was there at the start dressed in his finest odd socks and smartest 12 year old shorts. Yes folks, I can report that Sadist is in love – big time!

The signs were obvious Right from start. A new hash format, with Sarko representing the right way & Sego representing a false trail. Thing is, Sadist was insisting too much on being a Sarko fan but the truth was obvious for all to behold – he has a big time crush on Mme Royal. Apparently, he will forthwith spend his weekends in the only €200,000 villa in Mougins. Some nutcase called Mr Holland (Kaaskop?) will come hashing on his behalf from now on, spreading good news about tax hikes for those unfortunate enough to earn much, much less than him.

And so it was that the hash set off on momentous false trails, only to find love hearts with Sego’s smiling pout informing us of it being the wrong way. Les 35 heures on one falsie, tax ‘em til the pips squeak on another. None of this (not least the fact that the pack couldn’t find trail just 2 minutes after the start) seemed to bother Two Cheeky, who was more intent on using her mobile on trail (speaking to Sarko, perhaps?).

The trail wound upwards and through the old town of Bar sur Loup, ensuring that local voters were put off for life thanks to Sadist liberally sprinkling the town with Sarko flyers (just a diversion for his true love).

Older (sorry, regular) hashers were gazing lovingly at the mountains some 600 metres above, trying to guess to which summit we would crawl. Perpetch was seen slobbering in anticipation at running them all. But alas, no sooner had the trail gone up that it started going down, maybe in the same way that Francois Holland (sic) had hoped Sego would do had she won…..

Just 15 minutes in, we arrived back at the start. Great! But, no, hang on, not great, no beer car. Shome mishtake surely? Alas, this was just a typical Sadist ruse to whet the appetite. However, we were joined around this point by Contessa, who had gamely decided to join the hash, but just a tad late.

Down, down, down went the hash. So much so that gravity was taking its toll on bladders. Wetspot was the first to give in, relieving himself in some prime future real estate (aka scrubland). Jobsworth & Peirs followed and were promptly accused of cottaging. Beware you slanderers, such loose talk won’t be tolerated in Sarko’s brave new 1,000 year reign.

A brief interlude saw some upward movement, but the cottagers were outed once again, this time by Prestressed for shortcutting (had to catch up some how, you know), before descending again into the abyss, representing Sadist’s view of 5 years of Sego in power.

And so it was down to the Loup where we met up with some dodgy caravan types (sorry, Sego voters according to Sadist) at the beer stop. Now, I don’t know about you, but a 1 hour first half that finished 300 metres below the start spells trouble for me.

And trouble it was. A walloping climb back up the cliff face. Hard work, no pain no gain, but we all had to pull together to make a better France. Some of the weaker ones suggested striking, but Sarko’s riot dogs were primed in the form of Bozo & Tessa. One word and the 2 hounds would have slobbered over any dissenters.

After a long campaign struggle, the hash climbed out of Sego’s abyss, to find the sun shining at the On In, representing the brave new dawn under Sarko. I reckon that this is the first time the hash has turned into a political pantomime! But, wait, what was this? One of our number was missing. It seems that Contessa, not content on arriving late, had decided to vacate the hash early, too tearful to welcome in the New Order. Obviously a Bayrou fan, then.

The resto was awaiting and was not to be disappointed by the few hashers taking its name literally and coming in school uniform. There’s something about female school uniforms that does not translate to boy uniforms – Mr Pizza take note!

Down downs beckoned before the liver and semolina in the school canteen.

Hare – Sadist

Transgressors – many

Gym slip school outfits – you know who you are!

Visitors & virgins – welcome & hope you come again many times

Sh*t of the week – Sneaky Bastard nominated in abstentia because he failed to show up to co hare, but this was not a heinous enough crime, so Perpetch was given it instead.