Mauritius Hash House
Hash 425 16th October 2004
The other side’s hash
A retrospective report here. This was, so I thought, an “Away” game for the Isle of Wighters, and so technically not a Mauritius Hash. Accordingly, I let go my normal restrained self and retreated into the crowd of ordinary folk. Which means I took not a single note of proceedings. So embroider this all you will.
A good hash, done entirely the Isle of Wight way. This does have the tendency to keep the pack together, but principally by virtue of the fact that the idle gits don’t bother going 5 yards away from the hare. May I suggest that for future hashes the IoW hare be issued with a 5 yard cattle prod; that should get them going a bit. The Mauritius Hash took full advantage of knowledge of the local terrain. Of course, we were still completely lost, but we were lost in a more knowledgeable way. We also had learned our lesson from this wretched fish-hook experience. We just took a breather and waited for the rest to catch up. We’re no mugs. We could see the pack approaching easily enough: one couldn’t miss the hares in grass skirt and wigs – and as for Bilbo, he had achieved a new level of sunburn previously unknown to man. When he peels, it’s going to be a full body affair!
It was a short hash, nothing wrong with a quickie, which gave more time for the On On and, more importantly, to make ready for the Hash Bash in the evening. There were a number of sinners, most notably Hot Dog, re-issued with the ARM: we STILL have to get hold of one of those.
Are you sitting comfortably, then I’ll begin. A thumping good evening. The Isle of Wighters wiped the floor with the Mauritius Hash in the ladies Tug of War. This was not, however, due to superior strength. It was because some pillock asked some Aussie to referee who had brought his Professional Referee’s Association (for) Tug-of-War’s hand-book, under which, according to Section A, sub-section 2(b), paragraph (i), sub-sub-section a/2/1400678, additional note (mcmlxxvii) (as amended), it is an offence to have any part of one’s body in contact with the ground except the feet. Where’s the fun in that?!
On to the erotic cucumber eating competition. This time, I am pleased to report, the Mauritian ladies showed their true prowess when on their knees before their men-folk. The men, reflecting on the state of the cucumbers after this competition, ought to have asked for danger money.
It all goes to show what training can do for you. A month ago, our brave Mauritian boys didn’t even know what a boat-race was, yet here they were, shirts in the off position sucking it down as though they spend every evening on a dodgy street-corner. It was a testament to that afternoon spent at Trois Mamelles.
Food was simply outstanding. After the food came the dancing. The whole evening exemplified what is hashing. People from far, far apart, in all senses, who, for a time, in the same place and time, shared something whose whole was far more than the sum of its parts. Deep? Yes, I suppose so. But there was a lot of beer going on as well. If you were there, you’ll know why I say that!
I don’t mind adding to this write up if people would like to remind me of things I missed! It can be a living history!!!!