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Mauritius Hash House HarriersHash Trash 609 - Sunday 20 November 2011 |
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TWISTS, TURNS & TWIRLS
It is within the straitjacket of conventional wisdom
that our guest hares invariably provide the most spectacular cross-country
courses that invariably set an example for the less inspired trailsetters
amongst us. And our triptych of esteemed
hares, Alan, Leslie & Marie Claude reads like a Who’s Who of this most
hallowed pastime, so revered that they could be feted as the Steve Jobs, Bill
Gates & Anita Roddick of the pioneer trailsetting fraternity. And it would have been no surprise had the
attendees on this sun-dappled Sabbath been afflicted with major involuntary
salivation in breathless expectation of another classic event, much akin to a
pyromaniac trapped in a firework factory with a box of matches in his back pocket.
And so it proved – a majestic trail that carved its way with subtle precision
through improbable canefield corridors, along the fringed of tranquil coastlines,
beside aromatic refuse tips, inside
scantily-clad deciduous forests, along precarious undulating stone paths, under
overpowering bridges, over Ferney’s version of Highway 61, past decorative graveyards
& through the charming somnolent village of Riviere de Creoles.
And furthermore it was a Hash not without incident –
an early casualty was the luckless Huguette who somehow contrived to twist her
ankle causing severe swelling to the joint. Her brother heroically carried her back to the
On-On (that’s what family are for) where she reclined in effortless Cleopatra-like grace with
her foot swathed in ice blocks, probably anointed with ass’s milk. Girish collapsed on the beach like he had
just been shot by a sniper assassin but it seems that he had merely tripped
over his horn. The sole on Leslie’s shoe parted company with
the upper part of its body which means an unscheduled trip to the Foire for
replacements & the Scottish curse of unbudgeted expenditure. And finally a
majority of the walkers were struck with temporary blindness from the glare off
Hari’s rainbow coloured T-Shirt (although it boggles the mind about where the pot
of gold could possibly be).
There was also an absence of flour in the village
where Alan laid the trail & it was suggested that the hungry local dogs had
licked the powder dry. However, conspiracy
theorists suspected that Leslie, displaying the attribute of the archetypal
parsimonious Scot, may have furtively scooped up the flour himself not only to
make Alan look like an amateurish Hare but also to take home for making several
trays of vanilla & cherry
muffins.
It was a strange spectacle to see the stragglers & tailenders appearing at the On-On from different
directions & in different states of distress, in particular the divine Mrs
GM, Philiida, who could easily have been mistaken for an overheated boiler with
a hyperactive thermostat. At the
special request of the Hares, a crushed ice seller (i.e. the ice was crushed,
not the ice seller) was standing ready to serve iced soft drinks for thirsty hashers looking to quench
their thirst with something other than the predictable offer tucked inside the
wooden crates.
The GM, elegantly trussed in his new shorts, had some
difficulty in calling the circle to order, the disrespectful rabble preferring
to engage in disharmonious babble rather than honour the vesperal code of
silence. Once the cackle abated, the Hares were given their deserved reward
with Leslie being determined not to waste a drop by sveltely plucking Marie’s
Claude’s tankard from her grasp at the same time avoiding an impromptu brew bath.
The Virgins basking in the unknown pleasure of their
maiden Hash were -
1)MICHELE–from France & a friend of
Bertrand. She said that she enjoyed the
ambience & is threatening to make a reappearance.
2)KENDRA – all the way from the U.S. of A. & an
invitee of Arabella. It is believed
that she may have cringed in horror when the unruly members of the mob lapsed
into wild exclamation of that now overused Obamarama-ism “Yes, We Can”. Yes we can economically asphyxiate under the
unbearable burden of sovereign debt?
Eloise, Arabella
& another lady with unknown identity were duly given their reward
for daring to subject themselves to a second Hash & we hope that they will
be prepared to subject themselves to many more rambling expeditions.
The Reverend Steve Farrow, again smartly appointed in
his now trademark straw Panama, was wearing an elegant pair of Ice Blue
designer shorts. The R.A. has made a
startling transformation in his sartorial appearance that it does seem inevitable
that he will soon become an honorary devotee of the stately fashionista brigade
(it will only be a matter of time before he will be spotted in the columns of
the Hello magazine rubbing shoulders with Posh, Becks and Kate Middleton). But despite these lofty sartorial ambitions,
he maintained a gentle humility with his feet firmly on the ground and delivered a swift salvo
of whimsy with the cutting edge of a football hooligan’s flick-knife. He
first rattled off a tale of an unidentified Hasher who was fishing with a
friend near a bridge over Tamarin River.
Suddenly a hearse rolls past & the Hasher stood up, removes his cap
& bows his head. When the car disappeared, he replaces his cap &
carries on fishing. The friend turned to the Hasher & said “that is one of
the nicest, most respectful gestures I have ever seen. The Hasher looks round & replies “Well,
that’s the least I could have done, we were married for twenty years”. The R.A the recounted an incident in Big
Willie’s at the weekend when he uttered the words “I love you”. His wife, not accustomed to hearing such
amorous pleasantries (at least not from her husband) asked “Is that you or the
beer talking?”. The R.A. in a soft
romantic tone replied “Oh, that was me talking to my beer”.
Referring to the ailing Huguette/Cleopatra, the R.A. confirmed
that a First Aid box was available for remedial treatment but then creepily suggested
that someone should kiss her wound better.
Out of the blue Mark, the less than dynamic half of the dynamic events
duo, then declared that he was a plastic surgeon which I am guessing to be some
sort of code for the depraved pleasure of binding oneself in cellophane &
bubble wrap most probably as a post-midnight pastime (not exactly a standard
deviation, unmathematically speaking). I
assume that this remark was an open invitation to the congregation in the hope
that he could seduce the naïve, the vulnerable & the misguided to join him
in his bandaged bondage frolic (unsurprisingly, no-one expressed an interest in
being a disciple to SM ritual)
Following this unscheduled intermission, the R.A. quickly moved on to the less
controversial task of damning sinners with a down down as follows –
1)LAURENT – but I cannot remember why, although he
would have been mightily chuffed at his Liverpoll snatching all 3 points at
Stamford Bridge.
2)MARK – the bondage boy misread the directions &
found the wrong bridge (maybe he could not see properly because of the bubble
warp).
3)ALEX – who seemed to have the keen sense of a
police sniffer dog as he seemed to know the right way at the checkpoints – No
comment
4)REY – for gracing us with his presence following
his Phileas Fogg around the world in 80 days escapade. He was wearing a Beijing Hash singlet
inscribed with classic dishes from a Chinese restaurant menu (e.g. chicken shit, monkey glands etc. etc.)
5)DOMINIQUE (Alias ROBBIE) – guilty of treason as he is due to disappear
for 6 months to an undisclosed destination (maybe it is a top secret mission).
6)BLOB & ZANDRE – long overdue reappearance of an
Ex-GM & an Ex-Scribe (and poetess). The Blobbified one was growing his
silver beard in preparation of another festive season dressing up as the mythical magnanimous Santa
Claus to strike unholy fear & almighty terror to the children of
Mauritius. Zandre was graphically
demonstrating her undisguised infatuation for her partner in crime by wearing a
Blob branded T-Shirt adorned with Blobbisms
such as the word “Blobojob” meaning a charitable act brought on only by Blob
drinking (possibly in excess). And who
says Blob isn’t narcissistic….
And finally the cowgirl with the cowbell, Nadine,
selected Tusha as the new bell bearer hoping that it will slow her down long
enough to ruminate on the grass that populates the countryside. It has to be said that, despite the burden, Nadine
put in a sparkling performance in keeping up with the front runners. However, when she was passing through the
graveyards, the campanological monotony echoed so loudly that it was more than
enough to arouse those resting in eternal slumber.
FAMOUS
SAYINGS
A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend. A successful woman is one who can find such a man – Lana Turner
THE LAST WORD
In which The Scribe asks a Hash member a series of
questions that attempts to uncover a
sequence of useless personal facts. The next unsuspecting victim in this pointless
charade, a seasoned Hash member who in his glory days used to wear eccentric,
colourful outfits to match his maverick renegade ponytail; a nihilistic voidoid,
bubonic coypu and shrinking violet a dangerous cocktail of personality
disorders that combines into the tri-polar protozoa better known as….JOHN CABRELLI –
1) Who was your childhood hero?
Muhammad Ali was my
first icon, the first pop pugilist; I remember waking up at 3 a.m. to watch the
Sonny Liston rematch when Ali knocked the Big Bear out in the first round. I was captivated by his charisma, his
showmanship but above all his boxing skill.
The Thrilla in Manila in ’74 when he impossibly outfoxed, outboxed &
knocked out the formidable George Foreman was probably his greatest sporting
achievement. The heavyweight division
has never had the same allure since (Thank
god he has ceased this sycophantic eulogy, I was about to stab cocktail sticks
in my eyes to relieve the boredom)
2) What was your earliest
childhood memory?
Standing in front of the wardrobe in
my bedroom, wearing a quilted navy blue one piece romper suit (with fake
sheepskin inner lining) in preparation for a visit to the dentist. (Definite
seeds of cross dressing & animal fetish)
3) What do you consider to be
your greatest personal achievement?
Undoubtedly doing the sub-3 hour marathon in
London 1985 (2 hours 57 min 12 seconds to be precise) . And I can never forget the sweeping tearful elation
that rushed over me as I rolled under the Admiralty Arch with a 1 mile to go safe
in the knowledge that I was about to break this mementous milestone. At that point, I just relaxed & let the
euphoria take me home, sprinting the last 200 metres over Westminster Bridge,
my left arm raised aloft at the finish as If I had won the event itself (Whose idea was it to give this myopic buffoon his 15 minutes of infamy)
4) Who is your favourite actor
& favourite actress?
The superb Robert De
Niro & the brilliant Dame Maggie Smith
5) When was the last time you got
into a fight?
Verbal fights invariably every day
just to make my working life more pleasant & interesting. Physical fight at an underground car park in Bali when I thought that the attendant
was trying to overcharge me for the privilege.
(Nothing more tragically juvenile
than an ancient adult goblin trying to
throw his weight about)
6) Have you ever smoked dope or
taken drugs?
I
smoked some Moroccan Red at a Rugby Club party, found it bitter & the only
mind altering affect was a severe migraine.
I also snorted a white line through a
rolled up 5 pound note with absolutely no hallucinogenic effect & deduced that it must have been
cheap low quality dirt (I just don’t believe this bluff bravado,
trying to pretend that he was a cool teenager; I suspect that he was a fully
paid up member of the anorak brigade with the charisma of an emaciated librarian)
7) Name 2 people that you would
like to have a conversation with (& why)?
Tony Hancock to
understand the tortured artist with the tears of a clown.
Marilyn
Monroe to uncover her secret life beyond the celluloid fantasy world .
8) When was the last time you
went to church?
Probably Venice, Italy 2002. It was then that I noticed that most, if not
all, churches have a painting of Madonna con Bambino, the iconic symbol of Catholicism.
9) Who is your favourite musician/s?
The soundtrack of my
life would probably feature tracks by Jimi Hendrix, Little Feat, Steely Dan, Neil
Young, , Lynyrd Skynyrd, Derek and the Dominos, Todd Rundgren, Joy Division,
John Cooper-Clarke, Only Ones, Patti Smith, Orchestra Makassy, The Beat, Talking
Heads, REM, Pearl Jam, Nick Cave, Conor Oberst, The National and Billie Holiday. (Reading
a braille version of an Air Conditioning manual is more vibrant than being
subjected to this unadulterated bison dung)
10) What would be the last thing you do if you
thought the world was ending?
As Woody Allen once said “It’s not that I’m afraid to die. I just don’t
want to be there when it happens”. The
last thing I would do would be to have a large naked Glenfiddich Malt & prepare
for oblivion by putting on my white suit; you can’t be seen dressing down when
you’re going up. (I know the destination
on his one-way ticket –and it will be
standing room only)
THE SCRIBE
The 2011/ 2012 team | ||
---|---|---|
Supreme Being: | Jean Ramiah | |
Hare Line + Trailmasters: | Ryan Leeds | |
Cellarmaster: | Gilbert | |
Hash Horn: | Giresh | |
Religious and Sex Advisor: | Steve | |
Ice Maiden: | Gaetan (For the moment) | |
Ha$h Ca$h: | Claudia Deputy: Jean-Paul |
|
Drinks for Wimps 'n Kids: | Also Gilbert | |
Hash Market: | Juliette Deputy: Marinette |
|
Edit Hare: | John Deputy: Kay |