Spring is sprung the grass is riz.
I wonder where the birdies iz.
Hares for this, the lucky numbered Hash 777 set by Red Hot and Hot Pants trailed us through the French Spring of our regular park (well we call it our park anyway) and the deep but no longer dark woods of St. Germaine en Laye.
Our religious Advisor PPO sacrificed whatever virgins were left in Paris to appease A. S. Gispert and the Gods of hashing, and bestowed on us a wonderfully sunny spring Saturday.
It received a stirring thumbs up for trail setting with beautifully designed and executed dots and circles showing her artistic flair.
Grandpa from Sweden was our visitor to this weeks Hash was who used some new fangled thing called “the internet” to find us and run. It will never catch on. He beautifully ruined his down-down by jumping the gun and drinking early, so was forced to do it again till he got it right.
8 returnees were too numerous for me to count, as your faithful scribe did not get that far in school. Only need to say we will require a note from their doctor, schoolteacher and their mum to explain their absence in future.
But I seem to remember faces that might belong to: Original Cyn, Rubbing Hood, 3 X A Lady, TTH, Frog Banger, Burning Bush, Fucking Fan and the Anarchist.
We also had Visitors (or New Comers?) Just Erika from Chile, Just Stéphane from Paris and Just Tron from Oslo.
The reasons for punishing Deep Throat and Oohlala were not quite clear.
Half Crazy was sanctioned for chasing arse in the woods instead of the trail. This behaviour was frowned upon as the Hash arses should be big enough for any red-blooded hasher to chase. She was also advised to keep her eye on the ball in future.
We were obliged to punish two Blasphemers. Petit Wee-Wee was forced to down-down for breaking the away from the religious ceremony to graze for potato crisps. The Anarchist was also punished for disrupting deeply spirituality of the circle by attempting turn it into a cocktail party by handing around a plate of canapés (crisps). The Anarchist was further sanctioned for wearing new running shoes and coordinating his canary coloured running wardrobe with more care than Paris Hilton… who was sadly not with us this week…. again. He (not Paris Hilton) was made to down-down from the now inoffensive ex-new-shoe.
Petit We Wee and PPO were chastised and beer was forced upon them for receiving directions form an elderly couple instead of following the sacred flour. It was further noted that PPO actually spoke French with the startled couple.
The hash being an auspicious seven-seven-seven, Seven asked us to play a game of seven with her homemade dice. We wondered what kind of gambling club she stole them from as
the dice were clearly loaded. Only Sleeping Sex managed to throw a seven therefore winning the highly coveted genuine, collectors edition piece of Hash-haberdashery. A hat. His highly desirable fashion accessory was the envy of everyone who gazed upon it. It was suggested that we play strip dice next time.
Impaler was sanctioned for alcohol abuse and forced to drink the amber fluid for pouring beer down his bum, when he did not realize this stubby had the cap removed. Not the sharpest pencil in the box I am afraid.
PPO was further punished and “glazed her arse for the Queer old dean” for Dyslexia, as we could not read her necklace wich spells out her name in broken barmen’s teeth.
Just Alex down –downed with his one good arm for unsuccessfully attempting extreme sports such a paragliding. This sporting behaviour will not be tolerated.
Speedy who did not run this week but bravely prepared le nosh with Muito Bonbon was chastised for overdressing in matching black mafia trousers and shoes.
May the Hash go in peace.