RIVIERA HASH TRASH 767/768/769
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Duchess of Cambridge
R*N REPORT 767
R*N REPORT 768
R*N REPORT 769
50 Shades of Smut
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Top of the morning to you all. We're in Dublin, so we are, to run the fabled little leprechaun of a hash weekend kindly organised by the Dublin hash, whose members are so fond of the weather in their fine city that they are more often than not found on the Riviera.
This report is brought to you by William Fitzpatrick. The second in the trilogy comes from Patrick Fitzwilliam, whilst the conclusion has been written by Paddy Like To Play With The Fitzes.
All round good egg and organiser Mairagh O'PHD was to be found round the back of Flannery's fine drinking establishment of a Friday night taking €45 from unscrupulous passers by in return for a thimble and a patch. This, we were explained, was the kit needed to catch the elusive leprauchans when out running. Just put a little Guinness into the thimble and Roibeard's your uncle (look it up if you don't believe me).
The hashers were gathering from afar in the bar to appreciate O'PHDs patter, collect glasses and, of course, drink the famous black stuff. Yes, black coffee all round for those who wanted it. Meanwhile, the hares were assembling hashers outside for a 7.30pm kick off to the Friday evening hash. The run had been set by Irish citizen O'Grappa and her exotic Italian consort Duchess O'Cambridge and it started promptly thanks to the timekeeping of Father Padre, to be sure. (There was a strong accusation of Padre being of the 1980s Irish Catholic church variety when he started chasing all the young boys & girls in Dublin, as witnessed by this sign in front of a Dublin church).
O'Grappa explained that the hash was simple. Just follow her chalk around Dublin until you found flour, which would be the sign of Duchess O'Cambridge's trail back to the start. Even more, she would be chaperoning the runners on her bike. What on earth could go wrong? Everything of course. This being an Irish hash, the pack totally ignored the hare and raced off to St Stephens Green to follow the flour that O'Grappa had explicitly stated was for the in trail. But what did our venerable biking hare do? Nothing beyond letting the hash run in totally the wrong direction towards a very pretty but very wrong place to be, as you can see from the photo.
Eventually the hare managed to get control of the pack and put them back in the right direction. Local knowledge did not help locals, whilst FRBs simply had further to run back to get to the real trail. Finnish Fly was not at all perturbed as it gave her an excuse to snap the whole of Dublin, whilst Little Pinkie was looking decidedly fit and fast. Just like Cumalot.
Back on the right trail, we followed chalk marks into the mean streets of west(ish) Dublin. The inner city has survived much more intact than elsewhere in the British Isles thanks to the Irish foresight to divorce from the UK in the 1920s and thereby avoid the Luftwaffe destroying much of the city in the 1940s. This means that there are many old terraced houses near the centre, complete with dodgy looking locals drinking alcohol and getting up to general mischief on street corners. But no fear, they all disappeared when they saw the pack coming their way. How many times was O'Grappa saved from goodness knows what fate at their hands by the pack?
The most famous religious landmark of Dublin soared majestically into view. Yes, we were by the Guinness storehouse and Finnish Fly of course got several clicks in as we went by. But there was no respite as it was closed, even to thirsty hashers, so we crossed down to the Liffey instead. Fable has it that the water from the Liffey gives Guinness its special taste. Judging by what the locals told us, it probably gives it the black look more than the taste.
As darkness fell and the drinkers started appearing, the hash followed the far side of the Liffey and then back over towards Temple Bar. By this point, our resident priest Father O'Padre stopped molesting anything that came his way and stated that the run had gone on for too long and that, in his opinion, it was time to get back and start drinking like the rest of Dublin instead.
All hashers bar Cumalot obediently agreed and we were rewarded with a run through the heaving stag & hen parties in Temple Bar and the shoppers in Grafton Street. Cumalot, ever the FRB, ignored orders and decided to take the scenic route back by actually following the flour that Duchess O'Cambridge had kindly laid for us to follow. The run back was a blur of drinkers, revellers and general need to get back to our own pub.
Precisely 1 hour 17 minutes after the start, we found the safety of Flannery's. Not a moment too soon for several thirsty souls.
A quick circle was held in honour of the hares O'Grappa and Duchess O'Cambridge for a very enjoyable first run of the weekend.
Cumalot eventually turned up having claimed to be the only one to run the whole trail. Local sources claim that he did not do this but took a pint of Guinness in every pub in Temple Bar instead. Meanwhile, our weekend photographer ensured that Dublin knew her name by now..
Circle over, it was time for PHDs scrumptious buffet and more drinks in Flannery's. The hash dispersed over the course of the evening, leaving only the hard core of Padre, PHD, Cumalot, Pedo (a complicit of O'Padre in his 1980s crimes?), Iron Lady and Jobsworth to prop up the bar and prepare for the Saturday run in the correct way, surrounded by alcohol.
Here you all go, what you have all been waiting for, Sunday's run report;
An enormous fistful of rampant innuendo rammed into every crack', but only a truly filthy-minded person would think such a thing.
OK, the photo is from day 2 but who would have noticed if I had not mentioned it?
All going well, Saturday evening, enjoying the Craic and making plans to extend the frivolity with Guinness, in the company of nubile young Irish Colleens, (Did anybody else notice that the odds are stacked in the favour of Males? Where are all the Boyos then?) in the downstairs piano bar when Padre informs me the request from The Duchess of Cambridge is being granted as One Night Stand can bring forward the start time in the morning. Here am I going to bed at 0200hrs.ish and Dublin is open until 0500hrs. What a waste of Guinness!
Laudable, as it is, to ensure the maximum turnout for the run, some consideration should have been given to those of us working hard trying to increasing Arthur's profits.
Two Hashers, who shall remain nameless but of the Irish medical persuasion, you know who you are, talking about the problems of getting older and were trying to decide what was worse, Alzheimers or Parkinsons and after much deliberation came to the decision, if they had a choice, they would rather have Parkinsons.
Reasoning; It is better to spill half your beer than forget where you had left it.
Oxymoron and Lost Deposit were convinced they were John Travolta and Olivia Newton John doing a passable imitation of Saturday Night fever, or was it just the early stages of Ebola? What goes on tour stays on tour! My lips are sealed. Maybe loosened for a small fee though.
So it came to pass; all were in agreement for an early start. African voting processes taking place here, I think, as 42 Hashers agreed to the earlier start time and only 38 were attending the weekend. Thus enabling those with late afternoon flights to participate on the run in Howth.
(So where were they then? Especially The Duchess of Cambridge who's idea it was in the first place! Ed.)
Morning arrived, all too soon, with clear, blue skies, and cool temperatures, (By Riviera standards, not ours, ) with ideal conditions for a good run, walk, scramble, (Cross out that which does not apply) around Howth, unless one was nursing a delicate constitution from the excesses of the night before. I am not admitting anything here.
Ladies, form an orderly queue..
All assembled on time, even those not using the train, (It only took until the third run for us locals to figure out that Riviera Time is different to, "Bejeasus, is that the time already? I really must get going as the run was due to start 10 minutes ago.) ready for One Night Stand's Chalk Talk.
The attention span of a Hasher is short at the best of times, but hung over? One N. Stand had to bear the brunt of accumulated disgruntlement.
However, all was forgiven when he explained he had carried drinks, Sherpa style, into the bush.
I might be exaggerating to suggest there were more Hieroglyphics on the pavement than in an Egyptian pyramid but it was a close thing by the time O.N. Stand had finished. Tootand Come In, eat your heart out. With an I.Q. greatly reduced from the night before, we were now down to the level of the Kerrymen, how were we going to remember all those instructions?
During a recent Password Audit at the Bank of Ireland it
was found that Paddy O'Toole was using the following password:
When Paddy was asked why he had such a long password:
''Bejazus! are yez feckin' stupid? Shore Oi was told me password had to be at least 8 characters long and include one capital'
Sadist, that well known international Hasher from many distant climes told me all I needed to know. "Follow the person in front until you see BN, (Beer Near) or TS, (Tot Stop) and look for the Beer or Tot in a nearby secluded spot.
"Off you go," extolled One Night Stand. Riviera and visitors in unison, "Where?"
Apparently they do not start with a check. Bad form old boy!
Stitch, that well known front person, I nearly said runner there, but to give her her dues she was in front of everyone else and on trail, allegedly, a position she kept up for most of the morning, was shouting, "ONON", from across the road.
Amazing what a little local knowledge can do.
However, Cumalot the Riviera Religious Adviser and a stickler for correct protocol was shouting, "ONON" from his side of the road.
Guess who was correct?
The trail crossed over to join up with Stich.
Padre using his international Hashing prowess and the fact he was chaperoning Confusion's two grandchildren, Filthy Lucre, 10 and Anna 8 and one twelfth, were already into Stitches slipstream. Anna explained "Filthy", was a good name for him because he never washes and hates baths.
Who needs the Riviera?
Anna asked if she could run with us, because as she explained, the others were so slow. I was informed they managed to stay near the front nearly all the way, even with running a few false trails, cunningly placed by O.N.S.
Up through the Golf course and around the old farm buildings and the walkers, seeing us emerge, took the advantage of a welcomed short cut.
Around and up, around and up, but not up where you were expecting it. This had the effect of keeping the pack relatively close together until we all arrived at the Bailey's Tot Stop.
Apparently nobody told Cumalot that he's not a statue, so he's still there..
Pissoles then told us about Paddy who took 2 stuffed dogs to Antiques Roadshow.
"Ooh", said the presenter. "This is a very rare set produced by the celebrated Johns Brothers taxidermists who operated in London at the turn of last century. Do you have any idea what they would fetch if they were in good condition?"
"Sticks", said Paddy.
Baileys, "Tot Stop", over and then it was a case of more around and up, around and up, but frustratingly never up where it was supposed to be. This continued until we reached the top and were subjected to stupendous views over the Dublin Bay, all enhanced by slurping warm, fizzy, beer.
Strange how tasty warm, fizzy, beer tastes when you have scrambled up the North Face. Dr. Purple Helmet might not agree with my assessment of the degree of difficulty but it is all relative. If you are eight and one twelfth it is the North Face. If you are suffering from a surfeit of Guinness it is the North Face plus one.
It was at this juncture "Yeast Infection" and "Fatal If Swallowed", caught up with us having been somewhat delayed by being on a working holiday.
Yeast Infection is, in fact, a master brewer and had been attending the Dublin Craft Beer exhibition as a guest lecturer. I wonder what she made of the warm, fizzy, beer?
However, it could have been worse with the lack of rain in Ireland during the summer. Do you know how much water it takes to make a pint of beer?
The authorities compromised, due to a water shortage, and announced they were only closing swimming baths lanes 7 and 8.
From here it was only one way possible. Every Hashers delight, a convoluted descent, with no up, all the way to the beer and food car, next to the station.
Cumalot conducted a quick circle, much to the amusement of the passing locals, as he wanted to get stuck into the food before he, Jobsworth and Farty Bum had to make an early getaway for the airport.
Even more scrumptious food, once again provided by Phd. this time all on her own without her sidekick Joy Rider but still up to the standard of the previous offering.
It was then time to disperse. Some went, who knows where, some went down to the beach and watched the seals whilst being entertained by the musician at the end of the pier, lazing in the sunshine and eating ice cream . (I do not know how Padre and Phd. mange to pull that one off. Ed)
And the knackered Old Farts sat under a tree near the beer car taking it in turns to fetch samples to check if they were still safe to drink.
The event finished with a wonderful communal meal in a local eatery/pub as recommended by O.N.S.
One last Irish joke, I think it is a joke, to finish................
Paddy's in jail. The Guard looks in his cell and sees him hanging by his feet. "What are you doing?" he asks. "Hanging myself," Paddy replies. "It should be round your neck," says the guard. "I tried that," says Paddy, "but I couldn't breathe."
O.K. one more then;
19 paddies go to the cinema , the ticket lady asks "That's a lot of you?"
Mick replies, "The film said 18 or over.
Boom Boom !
Hare: One Night Stand
Visitors (not already covered in Saturday/Friday reports) :
Yeast Infection (Colorado)
Fatal if Swallowed (Colorado)
Royal Butt Diver (Austria)
Picking Flowers on the golf course:
Provoking a fight on the Golf course:
Not enough Runs in one weekend:
Nicest Legs Competition:
Sadist and Paedophil (winner was Sadist)
Hot for Jizz (Galway)
Keen Knickers (GM of Belfast Hash)
Pedophilia with Filthy:
Shit of the Weekend:
Keen Knickers (Loose woman), Lost Deposit (Pedophilia and complaining about the trail, I think), Someone else I forgot.
Winner: Lost deposit
Weekend Organisers Proposed by Pissoles):
Padre and PHD
There may have been more.. I was very tired by then.
To see what world hash events are coming up, check out this website:
Also see the Receeding Hare Line!
R*n 770: NEXT HASH 14-Sep
Run no 770 meet 10.00 for 10.30 start
DIRECTIONS TO VALBONNE
Lycee Simone Veil
1265, route de Biot - 06560 VALBONNE
GPS = 43° 38.561'N - 7° 2.191'E
A8 Exit 44 towards SOPHIA ANTIPOLIS
At the robo take D535 towards BIOT
Robo DES CHAPPS - 3° exit D504 towards VALBONNE / SAINT PHILIPPE
At the 2nd robo take D98 towards LES BOULLIDES / VALBONNE
At the 3rd robo take D198 towards VALBONNE
At the robo take D604 towards VALBONNE
At the robo take 3° exit D4 towards VALBONNE
Parking entrance at the next robo
All together it's less than 10 km from exit no. 44 to the parking lot.
Any problems call Duchess on 06 98 03 49 05