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Mme Mouton

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Never Cums

Supermarket Trolley (R*nning Hare) and Confusion (lost Hare)

By F'ed Up Fitzgerald

"Can't repeat the r*n?... Why of course you can't!"

....unless you were very lost on the first half (c.f. The w*lkers).

"I believe that on the first night I went to Hashbury's house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited. People were not invited--they went there."

And so it was that on a beautiful morning, a large group of uninvited and unwashed Hashers, all of whom arrived on time, even Madame Mouton, descended on the sleepy market town of Valbonne.

This unusual promptness was probably due to the clocks having gone back the night before and the wine-weary Hashers having forgotten to reset their alarms.

ST gave the usual talk on the arcane Hash symbols; unfortunately visiting international Hasher, Pasta in my Pants, from San Remo, New Mexico, Nevada interpreted these rather differently... More later.

ST then gave the waiting pack a demonstration of how to set a trail as she shot off laying trail, already 5 minutes after the official start. Padre would be turning in his grave if he wasn't alive and well in Guinness (Dublin). Rumours that he is 'in' anyone or anything else will be subject to extreme, and fully democratic, censorship.

Trail now set, we set off towards the centre of Valbonne and despite knowing ST's dislike of shiggy, we still fell for the first false trail back over the Brague and towards the woods.
The correct route was out of town, on the tarmac, past a market where no doubt a merchant caravan had just arrived from the Silk Road, with silks and spices from the exotic east (tat from China and old socks more likely - Ed).

By now, PimP, had disappeared off into the distance and sped up the first major hill as the remaining pack just coughed up the ascent.

"..a single green light, minute and faraway, that might have been the end of a dick."

Now, here is where we found out that even Hashers are a group separated by a common language. PimP, by now a distant figure at the summit of Mnt. Valbonne (altitude 50m) had returned from a check and held his arms crossed above his head in the well-known symbol of a false trail.

Several of the pack started descending back down the hill, disgruntled at having been fooled into checking up.

At this point PimP disappeared off into the distance it was then some of the sharper runners (there are some? - Ed) such as Hash addict, BodyShop, decided Pimps false trail sign was itself a false trail.

So now, following Pimp, the pack rose and fell like a wet towel drying in the wind (what is this claptrap? - Ed) and finally descended up into the woods where ST usually fears to tread.

But not before Sadist has disappeared on a huge false trail and was not seen again until the beer stop. Well done that man.

Disturbingly, some r*nners imitated the w*lkers by r*nning off trail, ignoring the lack of flour because they were yakking too much. That's you Procul, Prestressed and Smelly Pooh. The RA was very remiss in not rewarding them appropriately.

After more wooded wandering, we arrives finally and inevitably at the Brague, a place well hashed over the years but ST managed to find some new twists and we doubled back over a high road by introducing a full Gispert loop.

The runners duly arrived at the beerstop confusingly thorough a cross but the experienced pack ignored such a minor problem.

"It takes two to make an accident."

More of a problem was the lack of beer car

Less of a problem was that there were no w*lkers.

The beer car was located camouflaged in another carpark; beer chests was duly carried 100m by the Harriets who disproved the lie that the Hash is a misogynist men-only club.

Of course, they could have just moved the beer car to the beerstop BEFORE moving the beer but given No Grappas failed attempt to hotwire the beer car using the key, perhaps it was the best idea.

"I've been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in a library wood."

After drinking and carousing for what seemed an age there was still no sign of the w*lkers so after rain began to fall it was decided to leave them to fend for themselves.

"A phrase began to beat in my ears with a sort of heady excitement: 'There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and the tired."

The second half was all shiggy and took us back along the Brague to the start point. Strangely, the w*lkers were already there, leading to rumours that they had not done the Hash and had spent it in the market. See Madame Mouton's report, which is clearly a work of fantasy, for proof.

Down Downs

Hares: Supermarket Trolley & Confusion

Returners: Essentially, everyone... including

Cums Quicker, Undergrowth, EricNN, Duchess of Cambridge, Sinex, The Bag, No Grappa, Sneaky B'Stard, JaqulineNN, Cum Cum, Fly Me

Visitors: Pasta in My Pants, BodyShop

Virgins: Estelle

Birthdays: Road Runner (not attending)

Mugless: Cum Cum

Lost Property: Madame Mouton

Hashit - A.k.a. Sh*t of the Week

Confusion for losing own train.

Runner Up

Pasta in my Pants for misleading the Hash

Also Rans

Procul for blocking access to the Hash beer by sitting on the cooler.

Finally, thanks to Supermarket Trolley and Confusion for the memorable run.

Onon to the Nice marathon run! (we've already had that! - Ed)

"Hasbury believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter--tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning-- So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

Walkers' Report. Hash 743. Spring forward, Fall back!

More than thirty hardy Hashers took this literally, and fell out of bed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, in time for the 10.30 Start. Amazing what an hour's extra sleep will do! The absence of Padre and his whistle was soon noted, which he was reputedly whetting in good old Dub with his new girlfriend. (Fancy missing a hash just for Luv!)

Not normally known as a latecummer, Mme Mouton was in a neighbouring car park dithering whether to do a Delboy at the vide grenier. She was soon called to order by the dulcet tones of Cumalot the RA, the words of whom are unfit for polite company so will not be quoted here.

And so we were off! Runners followed Supermarket Trolley, and walkers followed co-hare Confusion ... who, about an hour into the walk, started living up to her name by not remembering where the trail was supposed to go, (there being a SINGULAR LACK OF FLOUR!) -- finally admitting that she had recce'd it three weeks previously, and not been back since.

NB At this juncture, those of us who have slaved, on five or more separate, full days to set runners' and walkers' trails (just ask Contessa or CumCum) could be tempted to mildly criticise. However, I am shutting up, lest it be widely known that my last six or more hashes have been recce'd and laid almost single-handedly by my trusty co-hare, Sadist. (Although to my defence, I do make a mean restaurant reservation).

So, there we were, deep in the woods of Valbonne, along the Brague river - a picturesque spot if ever there was one, if only we could have lifted our eyes from the slippy, pebbly and soggy-leaf-strewn path. Not forgetting the crocodiles. (Well, Cumalot did say to make it up, and I have purposely left out the helicopter rescue, as it sounded a bit OTT).

Levrette's knight in shining armour husband (still a No Name, but not for long I'm sure) and the no-less-shiny Gorgeous Edna gallantly defended several damsels in distress, (thoroughly rained-on by this time), showing true grit by aiding and abetting the foolhardy but brave Jacqueline No Name -- who may yet regret promising to continue cumming!

Thus, undaunted - and more's the pity un-beer-stopped! - we finally arrived back at the Start, to the joyous sight of the beer car, miraculously conjured up by Pedo to make us wet inside as well as out. Hommage was again made to our dearly-departed (back to the UK!) Virgin Mouth, sorely missed, especially when we run out of peanuts! (Hi from us all VM, hope all is well with you!!!)

At least down-downs were plentiful, as usual, and no doubt the Runners' Report will reflect these better than this one, distracted as I was by recovering my long-lost jacket-with-attitude, (plus a battered 50-run mug, which probably doesn't belong to me).

Was Hashy History made when Confusion was awarded the coveted Shit of the Week, never before given to a hare? No doubt some clever dick will tell us in due course.

And so it was OnOn to the OnInn, where we gobbled up (with a little prodding) plentiful portions of not-quite-spicy-enough Indian fare. After which we migrated to sip coffee in the balmy open air of the Square, where it just managed not to rain again.

This Report would not be complete, however, without a special vote of thanks to the Gendarmerie of Valbonne, for their gracious loan of two amphibious rescue craft at such short notice. (Perpetch will no doubt lend you his puncture-repair kit, if you ask him nicely).

Thanks a Million, Supermarket Trolley and Confusion! It was another great and memorable hash - for all the right reasons!

OnON to No Satisfaction's!

Mme Mouton

Xmas Hash Bash 14th December 2013
I have now booked the Quai 06 (the same place as our 25th birthday venue)and reserved 10 apartments in the place next door.

The cost of the evening is likely to be around 45 Euros per head.

The accommodation will be 95,50 per apartment NOT per person and will include breakfast.

Away Weekends
More Info.

Try this link to find information regarding the Belgium Interhash bid for 2014.
Book early and obtain a good price. (If they win the bid)
To see what world hash events are coming up, check out this website:
Hash events.
Upcumming Events
Also see the Receeding Hare Line!

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R*n 744: NEXT HASH 10-Nov