RIVIERA HASH TRASH 747
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Mme Mouton

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Jobsworth
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Never Cums

All hail Perpetch the Munificent





Saturday 10pm. The party is in full swing and there has been a murder. Eric is lying on the floor dead and an investigation is underway. We have Mme Mouton, Cumalot, Pedo and others showing their various policing, detective and judging skills, orchestrated by Sadist and we do not know who killed Eric. Worse, some are also intent on murdering the language of Molière with the most unlikely French accents heard since Allo Allo. Things do not look good for Perpetch, who clearly has motives for the murder (xenophobia after 20 years in France being a prime one). Just as he has been condemned to being a head shorter, saviour comes via satellite link from a blast from the past. Maneater enters the room live from Sydney. Not distracted by the shambles of a cricket match going on near to her, she declares her sisterly love for Perpetch and gives him an alibi. He is saved to live another day (which is more than you can say for England's cricketers - Ed). Maneater saves the day, the case collapses and to prove it even more, Eric miraculously rises from the dead (like a stereotypical Frenchman who believes that he was born by a virgin and that he is the son of God).

Sunday lunchtime. The runners were lazing in the warm winter sun after a great hangover hash. They were thirsty and craving beer or champagne (yes, we are that kind of hash) in the circle. But the circle could not start as there was no sign of the walkers. 30 minutes passed by, 45 minutes, 1 hour. Still no sign of the walkers so the cavalry was sent out to look for them. The cavalry returned empty handed. Thank Gisbert for mobile phones. A few calls established that the walkers were stuck behind a locked gate on the edge of a camp site. The runners, helpful as ever, suggested that they follow the flour from their trail. "There is no flour" was the reply, so the cavalry was sent out again in the guise of Long & Hard (the only walker with the wherewithal to have completed the trail successfully) and Jobsworth. The cavalry clambered through a hole in a fence, followed flour for all of 200 metres and found the walkers huddled against the gate and with no idea how to get through to the other side. And so the rescue party deftly guided the lost sheep back onto trail, pointing out the "invisible" flour that had mysteriously escaped the walkers' eyes, through the fence and then on a quick 5 minute walk back to the circle....except for several unnamed-to-protect them from embarrassment walkers (Mme Mouton, Jacqueline & Semen Monster as you ask) who cadged a lift from Jobsworth and claimed severe dehydration from the whole gruelling experience.
The walkers made it to the circle 1h15 after the runners, who had also taken 1h30 to complete a Perpetch hash that had been advertised as "1 hour maximum". 2h45 into 1h00? It must have been the morning after the Xmas party.

Saturday 7pm. The pre party drinks are in full flow in Sadist & Perpetch's luxury villa next to the restaurant. The villa is packed but there is a group of people that cannot find where the party is and are close to desperation for a drink. Semen Monster is there; so are Jobsworth & Never Cums as well as Wetspot & Heleene and all they can find are a flour trail that goes round in circles. Eventually Gisbert's best invention, our friend the mobile phone, helps them locate the party. And unlike the helpless walkers, this was at the start of the weekend and before a drop had been drunk.

Sunday 11am. The hare starts the hash from outside the wreckage of the previous night's party. There is a good contingent of runners, including Happy Ending and her new beau James. For once, Happy Ending is on time. No missed flights from London due to over sleeping. No lapses caused by wayward dog or keeping an eye on Billy Elliot. They are actually here on the hash. And they are on time. During the run, Happy Ending gave an explanation for the unusual timeliness, being that James can handle a drink well, but he needs to release his toxins into her the following day (or did she mean that he releases them around her? I don't recall exactly).

Saturday 8pm. The dinner. The party reassembled in Quai 06, the restaurant used for the 25th anniversary run. The reviews from the previous time had talked of sullen service of the type the southern French specialise in. The Xmas bash proved that the staff remained on fine form and they truly excelled themselves in riling the hashers and generally acting as if our significant custom was not welcome. This had started even before we arrived, when they decided to pretend that they had not offered a choice of lamb or beef and elected to give everyone beef. To be fair, the taste was such that it made little difference to the choice. Worse, they had acceded to catering for veggies with salmon, but Wetspot's fish did not arrive. Being the gent he is, Wetspot did not kick up a fuss and braved his beef. Unfortunately, it was only later that we discovered that the staff had given Licky Dicky the choice of beef or salmon and he chose Wetspot's option. Licky Dicky wants to tell Wetspot not to worry as the salmon was nothing special anyway. Finally, this must have been the driest Xmas party ever as the promised ½ bottle of wine per person had evaporated to ½ a glass. This was on account of the staff hiding it behind the bar unless asked to release under duress. Yep, all in all it was the perfect setting for a hash Xmas party. We wouldn't want one with functional and pleasant staff, good food and lots of wine on tap would we?

Sunday at midday. The hash has taken the runners off road and into the magnificent Esterel. There is a good crowd (which is more than can be said for the astonishingly paltry turnout of walkers, who seem not to understand the hangover benefits of fresh air). Perpetch promised a 60 minute hash. His time is up and we find ourselves at the beer stop from the previous week's hash. No beer stop this time, just a climb up the hill in reverse from the previous time. Runners are already ahead of walkers and, from this point it is a beautiful view of the bay of Cannes all the way back down to the start. "I counted them all out & I counted them all back".


Saturday evening. A hash would not be a hash without whingeing about party venues and the mood remained excellent. Despite the formal dress code, there were some notable lapses. Pedo, for example, had lost his dickie bow and decided to come in fancy dress as witnessed by the pictures below.

 
Pedo                                                                            Harry Hill

Not wanting to be outdone, Jobsworth displayed a photo taken a few days previous of himself and his long lost brother showing that they were the role models for Gru from kids' movie Despicable Me.

 
Gru & Gru                                                                             Gru

Finally, Licky Dickie decided that we can compare hashers with many people, so here is a comparison of a certain hasher c1987 with his body double Mark Knopfler. Careful, girls, form an orderly queue.....

 
1987 hasher                                                               1980s Mark Knopfler & unknown friend

And whilst we reminisce, how about some old hash photos?


Or how about this?


Or this?


That Harry Hill gets everywhere!

Saturday 11pm. The food has gone, hashers have learned that the trick to imbibing the wine that has been "held in reserve" is to ask the staff to give it to them. Fairly Plongeur, Padre & Cumalot have retired to the cigar & cognac room (the terrace outside, to be more exact) and Mark Dezzani is getting the dancing going with his party favourites. The line dancers are working off the excesses with their moves. Dancing Scrubber, Cum Cum and all are always impressive on the dance floor. Licky Dicky and Jo are enjoying each other's company, smooching away like a lovestruck couple. Even Cumalot accedes to one dance with Cums Kwicker. Jobsworth offers the same to Never Cums but she politely refuses on the grounds that he will embarrass her with his grandad dancing. PHD solves the problem in the Irish way by cracking open another bottle of booze. And finally Happy Ending deigns us with her company. Having missed her flight in London due to oversleeping, she went from Luton to Gatwick to get another flight, then had to change and all of this with the great help of beau James. I just hope that he got, errrr, a happy ending for his troubles.

Sunday 1am. Mark Dezzani winds down the party and those who are still standing go back for post party drinks chez Perpetch and Sadist. Maybe this explains why so many walkers decline to participate in the hash the next day. (Probably not - Ed).

Sunday 2pm. With a serious delay due to the walkers, the circle can be held and the curtain drawn over the Xmas party hash weekend. Sh*t of the week should have been an obvious choice - all the walkers for being, well, useless. But such was their number that democracy was witnessed and they passed the accolade to Perpetch. Their reasoning was weak, so I will summarise that it was awarded for the sullen waiters, the lack of food choice & wine the previous evening, the endurance of the 1 hour + walk and run. Basically, Perpetch was voted as a means of thanking him for the heartless task of organising a great weekend of convivial company & friends, with no mishaps of consequence and a pleasant hash the next day. Good on you Perpetch. I will drink to that!



And so the weekend closed. The remaining hashers paid a visit to Two Cheeky & Serge in their nearby bar, where they could also sample "the best mulled wine on the coast". A truly wonderful weekend and, if it has not been said enough yet, I say yet another great thanks to Perpetch for organising it and to Sadist for his part in collecting money and orchestrating the play.

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R*n 748: NEXT HASH 22-dec

HHHi All,

Please find hereunder directions to our Pre-Christmas hash on 22nd December in Gattières. Mince pies and mulled wine at the Start! Meet at Renault car park at 10.30 for 11. Sadist has set a beautiful trail, as usual, and we look forward to seeing as many of you as can make it.

How to get to Gattières:

1) From Monaco, exit autoroute at St Isidore, turn right onto the D202, get into the left-hand lane and drive straight on past several roundabouts till you get to the Pont de la Manda on your left. Cross this bridge and at the big roundabout take the second exit marked Carros and St Jeannet, then at the second roundabout follow the signs for Gattières & St Jeannet. Go straight up the winding road for 4 km and just before the village, park in the car park on your right, beside the Renault garage.

2) From Antibes/Cagnes etc., take the bord de mer and immediately after the airport turn right onto the road that curves down to the Digne road (D202). Then follow 1) above.

3) By autoroute from the Var, do NOT exit autoroute at airport (Exit 51) but STAY ON for about another 1km and take EXIT 51.1, marked Carros/Mercantour. (No toll here). This leads onto a dual carriageway and after 7 km take the slip road on the right marked Carros /Gattières. At the big roundabout take 4th exit marked Carros & St Jeannet, then follow 1) above.

I will confirm restaurant details on Thursday. Would those wishing to stay for the meal please confirm by Friday night, so that I can give numbers, and if you are vegetarian, please advise.

Looking forward to seeing you then!

Restaurant info for 22nd December hash.

By popular request we are returning to the Hostellerie Provençale for our bash on Sunday. We shall have their speciality daube with gnoccis, home-made tarte, wine and coffee, all for 21 euros.

Please take pity on us (not to mention on the restaurant) and let me know by Friday night if you will be staying for the meal. Thanks a bunch!!

For those only interested in the bash (!), our reservation is for 1.15 - 1.30 pm.

See above for directions for the geographically- or memory-challenged. As for Padre, I cannot resist paraphrasing his own directions to a hash in Le Rouret many moons ago, (before he became the seemingly nicer version of himself that we see today -- but I am not completely convinced!). His instructions read: "Find Le Rouret". So, Padre: "Find Gattières"!!

Which leads to today's Philosophical Question : CAN leopards change their spots? First three to give their considered opinions, with examples to back up their theories, win the chance to be shouted down at the bash. :-)

OnOn!
Mme Mouton