RIVIERA HASH TRASH Porquerolles 2013
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R*N REPORT Porquerolles 2013
Friday - Mike Hunt
Saturday - Jobsworth
Sunday - Who Knows


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Run Report 739




Run Report 739
Friday Loosener; Porky Rolls
Hare; Sadist.

Scribe Mike Hunt.


Women should be like golf caddies, either holding your balls or getting your bloody tee ready!
I was welcomed to the Riviera away weekend at the beautiful Belambra holiday home for retired playboys, and Pervs.(Ed. That is just the Hash participants.) with a beer and "Two minutes."
No, this was not how long I had to drink it, well I suppose technically is was, this was the final warning that the Friday Happy Hour was about to commence. Well, Happy Hour if you are Masochist like Perpetual Motion and Padre who had just returned from a day trip to the island throwing flour all over the place, and the Hare Sadist.
A select band of the Pervs, Playboys and their Squeezes were called to order, ready to commence, whilst the worker ants were still on their way.

Long and Hard was enjoying her hobby of Rally Driving with Confusion and Farty Bum, in the back, deep in conversation trying to blot out the whizzing landscape, the other cars swerving out of the way and the swaying due to the constant lane changing and Phd. was trying to navigate with her eyes closed and repeating the Rosary.
An ethnic joke just for her.
Farty Bum recently bought a Pizza and was asked if she wanted it cut into eight pieces. She said, "Could they cut it into six as she could not eat eight pieces?"

Ohps, up another falsie.
Sadist called the assembled throng together and pointed in the general direction of the start.
A loop around the accommodation block to the first check which succeed in corralling the walkers whilst the runners went of in all directions, except the correct one, like headless sheep.
Talking of which here is another ethnic fact, just for Mother Tucker.
In 1802, the Kiwis invented the condom, using a sheep's lower intestine.
In 1822, the Aussies somewhat refined the idea by taking the intestine out of the sheep first.


Much to-ing and fro-ing and finally the devious little bastard was located.
The F.R.B.s were nicely warmed up by now and gradually overtook the walkers who had managed to get in front by standing still, on the check, until the correct trail was found.
Dark and Moist was trying to impress Brenda N.N., a virgin, giving her the benefit of his Hashing knowledge and showing her how to stay near the front. However, although she has an office job and not run for years, she is, in fact, a closet athlete and soon left him behind.
She later told me she figured out all she had to do was watch the front runner with previous experience and the rest was easy. Steamer said it may look easy but there was 75+ years of Hashing experience put to good use there.
(Ed. Too smart for us.)

Around the tennis court, back around the accommodation and relief a short run. Was it heck. How do you think Sadist earned his name?
This was only half way. This is where my memory fails me it was all beginning to look the same and Deja Vu (Ed. Well we are in France.)
Just like Basingstoke, or Carmel, but instead of roundabouts we had accommodation blocks.
Then surprise, surprise, some running country, apart from the vegetation making it impossible. Well at least it kept the pack together.
Check and check again.
I do not make the same mistake twice.
I make it five or six times just to make sure.

And then before we knew it we were all back together and at the start.

Padre, standing in as R.A., conducted a brief circle as time was short, to make it to dinner in time.

Down Downs;
Sadist, The Hare,
All the visitors; Too many to mention
Brenda N.N. welcomed as a virgin.
(Ed. I have never seen a smile like that before when accused of being a virgin)

Champagne all around and the tarts went of to titivate for dinner and the experienced, International Hashers put their years of knowledge to good effect and stayed in the Hash bar area.
A few more beers, maybe a Gin and Tonic, Pastis or two and straight into the wine in the dining hall.
Bliss.

Blessed are the cracked for they let in the light!

--------------------------------------

More Porkie Rock & Roll




Prelude
A vicious rumour had spread that a motley crew of hashers were causing havoc at Club Balambra just on the mainland by Porquerolles so your scribe dutifully did his best Bruce Wayne impression. Friday afternoon Corporate Warrior gear removed, he picked up Robin (well, Cumalot) in the batmobile, worried about how to get such a lot of hash paraphanalia into the tiny batmobile boot and scooted down to where the problem was reported. Sure enough, a motley group of offended (offensive?) hashers was located in disarray, having been publicly reprimanded by a fellow guest for causing too much noise and mayhem. No amount of explanation that it was only flour, not anthrax, nor that Sadist is perfectly harmless had placated said neighbour, so we knew that we were in for a perfect away weekend.

Arrival
Most hashers were already ensconced in the hash pub aka Sadist's room. Grumpy French complainant had been despatched (to be fair, there is an unnecessary need to state that the complainant was French, but he was certainly not a hasher and certainly did not understand the concept of enjoyment.)
Keys found, rooms booked, we joined a small but perfectly formed group of relaxing hashers. Some had already retired to "relax" in their rooms with new friends (good to see you here, Dark & Moist) whilst others were clearly positioning themselves to do so later (Padre later commented to me that he felt great after the weekend as he had not been humping the beer around. Could it be that he felt great because he had found other meanings of hump instead?).
2 people need to be mentioned in dispatches at this point. The first is Mother Tucker, the most friendly Hells Angel you will ever meet, who had Harleyed all the way down to the Porkies from Cambridge. Impressive but it pales into insignificance compared to Lonely, who had cycled all the way down from Oxford. I know who won that particular University Challenge......
After a few beers, most hashers wanted to lay down for a good night before the main event. Some of them simply wanted to lay. each. other. I do not feel that I should cast aspersions but there was some bedroom swapping that night between Padre & Cumalot. Up to you, dear reader, to decide who had a room to themselves.
And so the prelude drew to a close. But wait, weren't we missing a hasher? What had happened to Happy Ending? Surely she had not arrived quietly and without a grand entrance.....

Breakfast
It was great to see so many hashers gathered together for what was a late notice hash. 27 of us turned up (not all to breakfast), split evenly between Riviera hashers and visitors. Whilst some regulars were, umm, not regular this weekend, it was great to see intermittent hashers such as No Satz and Dark & Moist among us.
Most hashers looked well rested. The humpers looked well humped and still no sign of Happy Ending. 9h30 sharp we were all ready to catch the ferry and, guess what.....a flurry of blonde hair accompanied by a flurry of 9 year old boy & cairn terrier (terror). Yep, Happy Ending was among us and her grand entrance was made. There followed a story about how she arrived at 2am, after her GPS had sent her through the centre of Marseille (Ed - old fashioned maps would show you that the Porkies are just outside Toulon, which is a totally different city). Anyway, excuses over, it was onon to the ferry.

The main event
Good to catch up with everyone before the run. Special mention goes to No Satz who made the effort to be there from her round the world trip (Indonesia, Brazil, USA, errrr Belgium) and warned that she would have to leave sharpish that evening for more implementation fun. Not sure if she meant catching up with Little Pinkie or more boringly just an IT implementation. No doubt she will illuminate us later.
Somehow Sadist & the beer managed to miss the ferry so Padre rather unusually delayed the hash start (was it due to the extra oats the night before?). This gave Happy Ending time to announce that she had missed breakfast (not, of course because she is disorganised or recuperating from an evening's entertainment in Marseille) & she shot off to the nearest cafe.
Sadist recovered, the hash was off.
In true RHHH style, there were many walkers but only 5 runners (or more exactly 5 wimps who elected to cover the runner's trail). This can be put down to said trail being set by Perpetch & Padre, neither of whom are known for their easy trails. Sadist had a good excuse not to run as he was looking after hash lunch.
And so Cumalot showed off his lithe physique by racing off up the first hill, ignoring Padre's warning that the trail was very, very long. The other "runners" followed, preferring to save their energy by nattering.
On and up the trail went, through some beautiful country. Fortunately, we had ultra sporty Lonely with us, meaning that he was happy to check out the falsies & save energy for the rest. The problem of this trail was that it was a combination of Perpetch (long, on road trails) & Padre (lots of checks, scratch yourself to death in gorse), so it was impossible to second guess where it went.
A few falsies and lots of running later, we found ourselves on the south of the island, on top of cliffs with spectacular views of the Med. Beautiful, but no flour. Damn, another falsie.....
After km of this, Padre was noticed advising Cumalot that the falsie led to the lighthouse. This was incredible, another sign of the softer side of post-humping Padre. The run continued in this vein for many km, through spectacular olive groves, past cliffs and with Cumalot eventually getting fed up with the pack and taking off on his own, only to be seen at the lunch stop.

Lunch
Aaaahhh, lunch. After well over 2 hours hashing, we began to believe that Dark & Moist had been lost at sea with all hash provisions. But, hoorah, he was spotted beached in a lovely cove, with walkers no longer walking but cavorting in the surf.
Yes, we had found the lunch stop. Sadist had excelled himself with the spread, a delicious array of paté, cold meats and mackerel for the non meat eaters. Everyone was happy, except bloody Jobsworth who declared that he hated all the above. After a long hissy fit, even he was sated by the chicken & cheese.
The lunch stop was shorter than may have been liked as Dark & Moist announced that he had to take the boat back by 2.30pm. James Bond does not have this sort of problem, but he still showed his 007 credentials by taking Long & Hard on a ride she will never forget. Full throttle, nose out of the water powerboat antics, no less!

The siesta
So, after a lovely lunch and swim, was it time for a snooze? But of course not! The good news was that we had seen signs that the ferry terminal was only 2km away. The bad news, as you have guessed, was that the route was not direct. As earlier, Cumalot showed his boundless energy by bounding ahead, stopping only when he reached the artisANAL gelateria in the village to sportingly offer ice cream to all who so desired.
From here on in was a simple stroll back to the ferry terminal and the allure of Sadist's dessert, which we had had no time to eat at lunch as a result of Dark & Moist impersonating 007 and Long & Hard impersonating Pussy Galore.

Onon to the circle
Hashers reunited at the ferry, we duly returned to the mainland. Even Happy Ending made it there on time together with Billy Elliot and dog Henry (or is it Harry?). Dark & Moist had made it clear that he has a severe dislike of dogs so Happy Ending was asking for trouble the next day when she asked him to look after it. Plans to "lose" said dog or serially abuse it abounded, to the extent that Happy Ending was later overheard asking "does Dark & Moist have a problem with my dog?" Answer is a big, fat, resounding yes. As Happy Ending used to live in South Korea, she will appreciate it when I remark that a Korean restaurant owner is more likely to take good care of her dog than Dark & Moist.

The Circle
Cumalot oversaw circle duties in the hotel car park, resplendent in his Tom Sellick Hawaiian shirt and un-Hawaiian fedora. A schizophrenic combination if ever I saw one. Awards as follows:

Hares - Perpetch & Padre. Many thanks for a great 18.5km run
Visitors - Mother Tucker, Pissoles, Fruit Machine, Lonely, Flasher, Bootsie, 4WD, PHD (apologies for those I missed; can't read Cumalot's writing)
Blondes unable to follow directions - No Satisfaction and, of course, Happy Ending
Sex on the hash - Names edited to preserve their innocence
Returner - No Satisfaction
Mugless - Jobsworth
Birthdays were cancelled as Farty Bum had failed to provide a list
David Bailey photography award went to Semen Monster
Farty Bum for abandoning children after accepting to accompany Billy Elliot & promptly forgetting about him
SOTW nominations went to Long & Hard, Perpetch & Farty Bum for the above crimes. Clearly the only possible winner was Farty Bum & she was duly voted into the prestigious award.

The end
Circle over, it was time for a shower followed by dinner & (rather too many) drinks (for some), as witnessed by a few hangovers the next day. Need it be added that Happy Ending was, of course, late for dinner.
Sunday arose with a quick run, a massive storm (fortunately after the run), lunch & kisses goodbye.
So it falls to me to give great thanks to the organisers for a really wonderful weekend. In addition to the hares, we must thank Dark & Moist for boat duties (not sure how he escaped thanks for that in the circle) & in particular Sadist for organising everything. Marvellous!

Photos can be found at: www.flickr.com/photos/hashes/sets/72157636357541893
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