RIVIERA HASH TRASH 721
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R*N REPORT 721
Chris Evans, Radio 2 DJ

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Mme Mouton

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Never Cums

Gee Gees on the blocks in Nice




Oh dear, I had not intended to start this drivel with yet more offal jokes about quarter pandas in supermarkets but it seems that a bunch of four Gee Gees had turned up to the hash in Vieux Nice, presumably to check out whether any long lost cousins were being served up for lunch in one of the many packed restaurants plying to a relaxed pre Carnaval crowd. Not only did we have 4 Gee Gees but they were blonde mares as well.

Now, to avoid starting with too many in jokes, I should explain to the non Brit/Irish hashers that a Gee Gee is slang for a horse (as is a nag, another quite appropriate word at times.....). It was also the name given by our 4 visiting blondes, hence the comments. Not only that, the hash was awash with visitors thanks in part to the 10 mile rock & roll race in Nice that morning. Our very own Supermarket Trolley & Padre were joined on the run by Boob Slap from the USA via London, Run 2 Eat and Virgin Virgin (at least that's what I think he told me his hash handle is!). Not only that but Perpetch spectated and used his immobility to hand out some 500 RHHH fliers. Now, even if 490 ended being swept off the pavement, it seems that they generated some interest. Good on you Perpetch!

The hash instructions had advised hashers to arrive early due to Carnaval & road race congestion. In the end, Nice was remarkably quiet and a number of hashers used the occasion to saunter into town on the tram for the first time. Trivia question - how many people & companies were indicted of corruption in the tramway construction? Answer - no idea exactly but a postcard would not suffice to list them all nor all the zeros in the amount of the bribes. Southern European public projects, don't cha just love them?

The hare was Wedgie, who advised the pack that the trail was only part laid. That meant that he would be a live hare but we were not allowed to abuse him if we caught him on account that it was his hash and the OnOn was chez lui......if we dared to molest him, he would change the evening menu to horse entrails with horse eye covered in delicate jus de horse milk as a dessert.

And so the hash started. This being Vieux Nice, there were many, many false trails and even more people to bump into. Visitor Boob Slap quickly fell foul of the locals by sprinting around and, well, slapping an elderly gentleman with her.........elbow (or so she says!). A quick verbal offensive from said gentleman ensued with Boob Slap saying that she barely touched him. Unlucky man - he should have been glad to get any attention given his attitude!

Fracas over, the trail led away from the old town and into the St Roch area. Wedgie was disconsolate as the little flour & chalk he had laid had been washed away with all the dog poo by an unusually efficient street cleaning service (sprucing the town up for Carnaval that evening?). Tidal Dave is quickly becoming the new Dingus in speeding off and checking out all falsies (and there were lots of them!), whilst Cumalot continues to demonstrate his ever improved prowess and speed on the falsies.

Eventually the trail followed the tram lines back towards the Port and then, next to a sign for the Foreign Legion recruitment bureau (Perpetch was seen camping outside ready to sign up first thing the next day!), there was the unsurprising hill leading up to the Chateau.

This is the point that Cumalot demonstrated his desire to be a water skier. There was a fair old torrent of water flowing down the side of the road and, for reasons only understood by him, he decided to jump into it and......go flying arse over tit (cul au dessus des seins? Doesn't really translate to French!) and slide down the hill instead of run up it. A moment of madness, as many a UK MP call it when they are found dogging on Clapham Common/fiddling their expenses/committing purjory.

Once at the top of the hill, Padre, Cumalot & Jobsworth elected to lead Boob Slap astray and show her the, ahem, sights of Nice as opposed to the trail. It was here that she explained that her name is not so shocking, especially compared to her friend DSD (Desperately seeking.....doughnuts? DVDs? Dukla Prague away kits? DICK van Dyke?).

From hereon in it was a short downhill to a long and relaxed beer stop with the other runners & walkers. Many photos were taken by the Gee Gees and we had a hash stalker in the guise of esteemed Radio 2 DJ Chris Evans, who took a great interest in the goings on. Chris Evans also happened to be in The Snug later, so I was quite surprised when I turned on my radio the next day to hear him broadcasting from London without a mention of the hash. Surely there can be no double of this ginger haired motormouth, can there....?

The second half was a relatively easy trot down to the Promenade and around. If you were 16km stars Run 2 Eat, Padre & Virgin, then the short cut at the end was excusable. If you were slacker Jobsworth, it was not. In fact, Wedgie was flabbergasted to see said short cutters at the end as he was still laying trail.

Soon enough, the other runners arrived, but there was no sign of the walkers for a good 30 minutes (well over the time for a pint of Guinness by Cumalot's reckoning). Eventually they arrived (I can only imagine via Digne given how long they took!) and the circle took place outside The Snug in the gathering cold darkness.

Said circle was complemented by a marching band passing by, who were greeted by the world renowned RHHH rendition of La Marseillaise and a local tramp. Some favoured giving him a down down but Mme Mouton took pity on him instead.....

I'm afraid that the circle reporting will be highly inaccurate due to the combination of my short attention span & Padre's handwriting, but here goes.

Hare - Wedgie. Thanks for a really great afternoon.
Slapping elderly Nice residents - Boob Slap
Water acrobatics - Cumalot
Visitors - The 4 Gee Gees, Boob Slap, Virgin Virgin & Run 2 Eat (apologies if I missed anyone)
Returners - Jobsworth, Script Tease, C More Pussy
Mugless - Frankly most of us as it's not easy to cart a mug across Nice & then expect it to still be there when you leave it unattended in a local tavern for a few hours Being Italian & therefore beating France in the rugby - Serge
And many many more nominations I cannot recall......
And so it was to the Shit of the Week. The winner was Pedo by a furlong, due to his not showing his posterior enough to the newcummers, compounded by his knocking over lots of beer. Although Paedophil was awarded the Shit of the Week the Down Down it was actually chugged by Boob Slap as she said she needed a beer and it was administered by Padre.


And so the hash was over and inside it was to The Snug for some scrumptious Irish Sunday best courtesy once more of our hare Wedgie.


WALKERS REPORT HASH 17 FEBRUARY 2013


Decidedly, the Riviera Hash is full of surprises! There we all were, milling about in front of Nice Cathedral, the usual motley crew of freezing RHHHashers, (not Mme Mouton, who was wearing many layers), and rubbing shoulders with the elite in the shapely shape of four high-flying grannies from Michigan and two London hashers, putting us all to shame as they came specially to Nice to do the 10 mile run for the Carnival, and had the justly-awarded bling to prove it. But now the really gruelling part of their day would begin...



Wedgie had naturally ruminated over the runners' trail for months, as is usual and proper. However, the next surprise was that the walkers' walk... well, there wasn't one!! But never fear, resident Knight-hasher Pedo loaded us all onto his white charger (whoa, that's another story), and off we trot to see the delights of the Old Town, (no, not the sleazy ones Padre, the other ones!).

The quaintly twisting and turning lanes putting us in mind of the moving staircases in Harry Potter (maybe Mme Mouton should get out more) hold no more secrets for the lucky walkers! Did you know that every morning except Mondays there is a Fresh Fish Market in beautiful Place St François? We marvelled at the splendid, newly-renovated buildings here, including the ex-home of the CGT union, who for decades didn't pay any rent and after restoration they were not allowed back in by the redoubtable Mayor, Christian Estrosi!

Thrilled by the quaint streets and different styles of architecture, not to mention the myriad restaurants (and some mouth-watering shops, must come back later), a bit further along we were introduced to the very brave Catherine Ségurane, who single-handedly saved Nice (can't remember what from), and has a stunning marble monument to prove it.

Onward and upward into the rue de la Providence to the Place Ste Claire and the brilliant trompe l'oeil façade of the Church of St Joseph, with a trio of gorgeous wrought-iron angels adorning its priory door.




Then came the real reason Pedo had so chivalrously taken us on: Prime real estate for sale on that hill! Here, for a mere 360,000 euros, you could own 60m2 of apartment with a view like this. (Only serious offers considered!).


Up and up we flew, landing in the fabulous Jewish cemetery, where Pedo lost his father-in-law but soon found him again and put the customary stone on his grave. Given the dearth of stones available for this purpose, it was wondered about (but quickly rejected) to nick one off somebody else's tomb. We busied ourselves instead with viewing the thought-provoking graves and taking stunning photos, like this:



As the dulcet tones of the runners were now manifesting themselves from close by, the culture half of this memorable walkers' hash came to an end with a joyous combined beer stop, as is our wont, where Serge, pleading ignorance, dipped six-month-old Grégoire's dummy into his mummy's gin... thus assuring the next generation of FRBs.

As Pedo had to remove his paraphernalia, the walkers were taken on this time by Tosspot, who thought we looked like we needed a workout and dragged us kicking and screaming up and up and up again into the grounds of the (long no more) Château. Whence these views, making it all worthwhile:



Downhill all the way from then on, through the Cours Saleya's market stalls, long ago put to bed for another day, past the threatening Law Courts and along a few more winding streets, till we fell upon the reason we came on this hash in the first place: "The Snug", Wedgie's awesome real Irish pub, in all its green-decked glory.

(Have we got a photo of this??) I would say not (ed)

Was the Circle a tad rowdier than usual, thanks to glamorous Candy, Debby, Eliza and Maureen from the US of A, and the lively London hashers? Hard to tell, but they were certainly great fun and full of hashy spirit, (though who's counting). The dinner afterwards was a hilarious affair, with our hallowed hare Wedgie, specially over from Dublin, well in the thick of it and keeping up his half of the human race. The service (by brand-new Chloë, a stunning real blonde -- how rare is that!) was tiptop, and our host most kind and attentive. My roast beef with Yorkshire pud and all the trimmings was very tasty indeed, and the fish looked good and apparently was too. You could ask Padre, who devoured not only his fish and somebody else's, but also the remaining bits of our meat and two veg! Only goes to show what a 10 mile race does to you, if you're not careful!

We hope the glam grannies and London hashers had as good a time with us as we with them, and we look forward to seeing them back again sometime.

And thanks a very big bunch to Seymour Pussy and Scriptease for the outstanding photos! And grateful recognition to our resident, ever-patient Never Cums, for the techie knowledge and the oomph to actually put it all together! :-)





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