Mauritius Hash Trash 625

08-07-2012 Flic-en-Flaq Ryan Caterer #625

VENUE: Flic-en-Flaq

HARES: Alan & Leslie

HASH 625 – THE END OF THE PARTY

That blessed time of the year was upon us again when the musical chairs party game takes place which results in the rotation of the mushy mishmashmismanagement & the official declaration of the committee members who will take this esteemed misorganisation into the next annual period. And we had another midwinter sunblast on the Hash Sabbath with blue skies as far as the evil eye could determine with the On On set in the Sunset Garden victualisation establishment at Flic En Flac.
Our guest Hare for the Grand Finale was our master trailmaster, the Venerable Ryan Leeds who was content to set the course singlehandedly despite receiving a host of offers of assistance from unnamed volunteers.
The trail took us across the lethal rocks formations along the beach where a safety first running policy was the order of the day to avoid irreparable damage to fragile physiology. For a second week in a row, we were treated with a fragrant garden of rubbish tips & garbage dumps – we are now becoming immune to these panoramic sights & possibly also immune to the bacteriological pestilence that seek refuge there. We twisted through the tarmac around Morcellement Anna that segued into a windswept landscape that was once a proud kingdom of proud flowering sugar cane stalks. In the middle of this field that bore the remnants of slash & burn harvesting was a strategically placed Hash Halt beside a stray piece of agricultural equipment. The stop allowed the pack to become a solidified group of humanless flotsam & from this landmark, a sweeping dirt track swung & snaked down to the Petrol Station on the main Flic-En-Flac exit road. Somewhere around this part of the universe, the thoroughly thoroughbred Tim Cartwright, who had been running as smoothly as Swiss milk chocolate, decided to forget about the established practice of following the flour markings and disappeared into the distance distinctly in the wrong direction. He left behind him a trail of dust with the only thing separating him from lightning quick cartoon hero Roadrunner being the clarion call of “Beep Beep”. No-one had the courage to follow our stealth athlete but Didier quickly spotted the familiar white blob & decided to head for home which was just around the corner. The ever competitive Scribe who was slithering around in the shadows like unwanted saliva (unsure on whether to follow Tim or join the masses) sprung to action when hearing Didier holler the code words On-On & set about trying to collar the Events Organiser before the finish. The Scribe launched himself into a high knee-kick sprint but soon found out that he did not have that deadly Usain Bolt drive as he ran out of breath sooner than he would have liked, throwing himself through the gates of Sunset Garden just behind the gallant “victor”. Someone should really sit the Scribe down & quietly inform him that the Hash is not a race & that if he wants to be competitive, he should get his thrills by participating in the cross country league events.
For his final turn of the year The Grandmaster stood majestically (or it may just have been a deceptive impression to fool the unruly hordes) on the stage like a noble Shakespearean theatre actor about to give the swansong performance of his life. Thankfully, that forlorn prospect did not materialize as he had to turn to becoming slightly imperious to call the babbling mass of infidels to order. Ma Baker was showing an apparent lack of respect to hash convention by sitting on a chair until it became apparent that she was nursing an ankle injury which prevented her from standing to attention; however, it was ingratiating to see her husband performing an incurably romantic gesture by bringing a glass of red wine to her side (for medicinal purposes of course). And there is allegedly no truth in the unconfirmed rumour that the accident happened when she was performing Salome’s Dance of The Seven Veils at a beach party in Tamarin the previous weekend.
Knowing that the curtain was slowly coming down on his tenure, the GM wistfully invited the Virgo Intacta to publically decherrify themselves by revealing their identity in front of the visceral cackling hordes – and these luckless victims were as follows –
1)Francesco Liva – who was invited by Richard Baker & who apparently enjoyed his big day out
2)Zahia Liva – who was invited by her husband (above) after he was invited by Richard
3)Sabine Menard & Asia Monczal – these names were scribbled in the newcomer’s section of the notepad but the Scribe cannot remember who they were, why they were here & whether they would come back again,,,or even if they presented themselves to the circle.
5)Joanna – all the way from Poland & a law student at Warsaw University. And colleague of Isabelle Joseph & adopted niece of Aunt Gertruda.
With a complete absence of second timers, the GM had to take his liquid forfeit from the plastic Chinese bowls & he took far too long to consume the contents to be a real drinking man. He took the opportunity of welcoming the Polish contingent to Mauritius, the abovementioned twosome of Isabelle & Joanna who both showed the GM how to drink beer properly.
The R.A. had intended to join us in this end of season jamboree by coming straight from his scheduled touch down at 9.00 a.m at SSR Airport. However, he failed to make it on time for his final date. After last Hash’s explosive baptism as rookie R.A, the venerable Ryan Leeds sadly opted not to serve us up another humiliating spasticated performance (never mind Ryan stage fright happens to the most famous celebrities as well)….so with a leap and a bound and a mischievous twinkle in his beady eye, the furrilicious Captain Nimmo stepped into the breach at the eleventh & a half hour like a true SuperTrooper to deliver an impromptu midday sermon. Not being prepared for formal duty he opted for an interactive routine by dragging out Philida & Primrose to the centre of the circle to display their Hash T-Shirts. These garments were different in 7 subtle ways & having given the assembled multitude barely a 10 second peak asked if anyone could enumerate these differences. Sir Alan Grihault clearly abandoning any hope of being championed as the possessor of the eye of an eagle, leapt into the middle of the fray to announce with disturbing confidence that Philida was a sexual maniac (which may have been news to the GM as he seemd to ponder with whom she could be having these sexual frenzies) & that Primrose was a virgin (which must have made her wonder what miracle restored her purity). Not surprisingly, given the length of time to study the T-shirts, no-one was able to achieve a 100% score & The Scribe, given the desiccated nature of his grey matter, neither could scribble quickly enough nor remember the correct answers.
The R.A did not have his customary mirthological tale at the ready but he might have related this one had he been better prepared to serve his public –
Sex in the Office
Johnny wanted to have sex with a girl in his office,
but she belonged to someone else…

One day, Johnny got so frustrated that he went up to her
and said, ‘I’ll give you a £100 if you let me have sex with you.
But the girl said NO.

Johnny said, ‘I’ll be fast. I’ll throw the money on
the floor, you bend down, and I’ll be finished by the
time you pick it up. ‘

She thought for a moment and said that she would have
to consult her boyfriend….. So she called her
boyfriend and told him the story.

Her boyfriend says, ‘Ask him for £200, pick up the
money very fast, he won’t even be able to get his
pants down.’

So she agrees and accepts the proposal. Half an hour goes by,
and the boyfriend is waiting for his girlfriend to call.

Finally, after 45 minutes, the boyfriend calls and
asks what happened.

She responded, ‘The bastard used coins!’

The R.A. was spotted wearing rather dandy footwear that he apparently scored from a 50% off sale in a Rose Hill specialist shop; they looked as though they were inherited from someone with larger feet & also looked like they were a cross between tournament golfer shoes & Chicago gangster spats. But he was, of course, very proud that he had picked them up from the bargain bin. He then proudly proclaimed the participation of humor victim Andy Murray in the Wimbledon Men’s Singles final but must have been less proud at his countryman doing what Scots are past masters at which is snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. Having released Federer from his canine grasp in the 2nd set, the Swiss waltzed his way to a comfortable victory with a smooth performance as smooth as….well…. Swiss milk chocolate.
Anyway, the R.A. could only find one victim to persecute this week & rightly chose Jean Paul for wearing a band aid plaster across his nose to mask the evidence of being beaten up by his wife with a swinging left hook haymaker. It is suspected that he may have claimed that the sheepskinless nose band was a fancy sporting fashion accessory to assist breathing patterns under training duress but he deserved the down down just for looking like a pugilist’s punch bag. And the hash hostage cowbell remains absent without leave & we will soon have to file a missing thing’s police report for the recovery of the article.
The GM then delivered a charm offensive with his farewell speech that almost brought tears to the eyes during which he offered token gratitude to his specially selected team of expert advisors (who should really have advised him to keep his speech as short as possible). He then further prolonged his exit from office by introducing the new management team who was given celebratory down downs from joint bartenders Isabelle & Joanna, the roll call being –
THE GRANDMASTER (in absentia)- Steve has reached the zenith of Hash office but it is all downhill from here on (see below)
Trailmaster – Didier with support from experts Dodocop & Jean Ramiah (now just a commoner & no longer referred to as GM).
Religious & Sexual Advisor – Mark was nominated from within the circle & he may have been too polite to refuse the offer or maybe he just fancied a refreshing pick me up for accepting the position. John is the understudy.
Ice Maiden – Dodocop & Gaetan although we are still awaiting the much publicized alternative solution to our refrigeration needs.
Hash Cash – Claudia retains this portfolio having done a fine job in increasing the fund’s surplus – we just need to hope that she does not invest free cash flow in Spanish or Greek equities.
Hash Market – Tushia is now our sales development manager looking to increase revenues from our extensive range of branded apparel & accessories. Watch out for a new range of woolen hash hiking socks with a hand sewn emblem of the Polish flag, souvenir Pope John Paul II Hash mugs & limited edition retro 1980’s Lech Walesa Solidarnosc posters. Please keep an orderly line while ordering – first come first served.
Hash Trash – Kay Farrow who will no doubt add a much needed touch of class to your weekly e-zine
Hash Horn – Silvio who proceeded to test out his lung quality by giving a feeble sample blow on the reed-less instrument.
Hash Flash – Dodocop who seems to be intent on providing living proof of his multi-tasking skills
Webmaster – the geek of all computer geeks, Bob Russell (we really do need a succession plan for this position as he is becoming Hugo Chavez like in this role)
Events Organiser – Philida & Primrose. Perhaps they may start organising Tupperware parties for female members only & provide a male stripper for their delight/amusement during these special showcases…and this male stripper is likely to be Jean Ramiah himself knowing his fondness for thongs, posing pouches & baby oil.

And we must also all raise our glasses in celebration of Sir Alan Grihault’s 76th birthday (yet he still retains his youthful glamour without the need for Botox, liposuction or any other cosmetic treatment) & the birthday boy was overcome with surprise as he shed tears of joy when his good lady wife produced a cake to honour this auspicious occasion. It seems likely that Sarah, nurturing the upbeat disposition of a martyr, shed her own HIV negative A rhesus positive blood to colour the cake in a scarlet red coat of icing – the lengths some people go to just to illustrate their unconditional affection. A very happy birthday, Sir.

We were also treated with a spectacular virtuoso operatic private performance (probably wine assisted) from Harold The Great who offered a rendition of O Sole Mio (Che bella cosa, e na giornata sole, l’aria serena dopo la tempest, Pe l’aria fresca, pare gia na festa, che bella cosa, e na giornata sole) free of charge although none of the audience felt sufficiently moved to throw coins of appreciation at his feet – there may have been a stray off-colour tomato thrown in his general direction but the chanteur paid no attention to this act of barbarism. In any event, his crystalline tenor may or may not have had the vibrancy & white heat of a clear expressive timbre but his impromptu performance must surely indicate his unfulfilled desires of playing dramatic opera roles such as Rodolfo in Puccini’s La Boheme.
Eventually, the ex-R.A./new GM ambled in with family after lunch was done & dusted, making his entrance with his usual flair. He may have looked like a refugee from a Magnum P.I. episode in his brightly appointed Hawaian Shirt but fashion blindness apart, he looked as fresh as a pint of udderised milk as, in an act of wanton affability, he graciously circulated the tables offering his felicitations to everyone. No sooner had he been welcomed back into the fold than he was being officially inaugurated as the new GM by his predecessor.
And the afternoon ended in a sour note of controversy courtesy of the effulgent gentleman of dishonor & disrepute Claude who frankly is not generally renowned for being the sharpest leadless pencil in the satchel. Our man almost evacuated a table of Hashers when he decided to suck on a cheroot at a non-smoking designated area; it looked for all the world that he was trying to communicate with the Native Americans of the Iroquio reservation in Canada such were the magnitude of the carcinogenic tobacco plumes being exhaled. That the resulting smoke signals bore the pungency of recycled porcine biomass provided no consolation to the sufferers. Amid cries of displeasure, our wounded hero shuffled away in a huff of discontentment muttering random inaudible objections under his breath.
The Scribe would like to extend a special thanks to the organisers of the Hash Bash for an excellent day’s entertainment. The setting was excellent, the food tasty & the music danceable.

THE LAST WORD
We have a special treat for the final Last Word guest interviewee of the Hash financial year. This adorable young lady was born in London, spent her early childhood in Cyprus, moved to Mauritius at the age of 5 where she attended Alexandra House School and later Le Bocage International School. She showed that she was a distinctive academic class act by gaining Distinctions in both GCSE and IB (international Baccalaureate) exams. She franked her pedigree with a Gold award in National Youth Achievement Award. With such an enviable academic record she was destined to exploit her talents on the Campus & not content with following the mightily challenging Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree, she decided to complicate her life by studying at the Warsaw University of Life Sciences (WULS-SGGW) where the course in conducted in Polish. It is misplaced legend that she opted for Vet medicine becuase she was brought up in a human menagerie consisting of her dysfunctional parents & mildly abnormal sibling but as a child she did have the overpowering impulse to become owner of her own zoo (probably with the aforementioned menagerie being the first quarantined inhabitants). She has lived in Eastern Europe for well nigh on 5 years & she has a liking for Polish food, Polish drink & Polish fudge but adamantly dislikes the 6-month long Polish winter, the Polish politicians and all 7 declensions of the Polish language!!! (bloody hell, Latin has only 5 declensions & the Scribe found that traumatic enough..even supposing he was teacher’s pet)
So, retrieve your hand from the ailing donkey’s sphincter and wash down your mucky wellies while we join the demure Isabelle Joseph (Hash name Isis after the ancient Greek Goddess) on the flower laden path less travelled that leads to her private universe.

1) Who was your childhood hero?
Michelangelo…the orange teenage mutant ninja turtle. He was AWESOME and he loved pizza – who doesnt? (These bastards in a half- shell sure influenced a generation)
2) What was your earliest childhood memory?
Seeing the Red Arrows display in Cyprus at the age of 4 – I thought the vapour trails were pretty neat.
3) What do you consider to be your greatest personal achievement?
If you ask me this in 2 years time, I’d like to say getting myself through vet school. But for now I’m pretty content with having gotten through four years of vet school – having done it all in Polish ‘the language with no vowels”. (This is an all too familiar quote….)
4) Who is your favourite actor & favourite actress?
Jason Statham and Meryl Streep
5) Have you ever smoked dope or taken drugs?
Nope! (Too nice to be true)
6) Name 2 people that you would like to have a conversation with (& why)? Cristiano Ronaldo – to ask him what the heck was he thinking at the Euros during that penalty shoot-out and to take the mickey out of him. John Paul the Second – one of the most humble, yet most inspiring Polish people to have graced the face of this planet – simply for the honour to be able to talk to him. (Pope John Paul more inspirational than Tusha?!!! – hardly believable!)
7) When was the last time you got into a fight?
Probably a couple years back in high school. (educated AND able to handle herself in a fight – is there no limit to her talents?)
8) When was the last time you went to church?
A week ago.
9) Who is your favourite musician/s?
Matthew Bellamy from Muse – he’s got to be one of the most accomplished multi-instrumentalists around and he’s also a pretty damn good vocalist. (classically trained & rudely talented)
Jon Schmidt and Steven Sharp Nelson from The Piano Guys – some of the best modern piano and cello pieces worth listening to. (we are being threatened with an overdose of culture here – even the Scribe has not heard of them & he has 5,000 plus songs on his iPod)
10) What would be the last thing you do if you thought the world was ending? First, I’d eat lots of Polish fudge. Then I’d like to finish off my time in the world by going sky-diving or bungee-jumping. (but would these daring activities finish her off before armageddon did)

Alas, the poisoned Scribe’s poisoned pen has sadly (not for some though hethinks) run out of scribbling juice & even more sadly (probably not for the most) the multicoloured ink fountain has run dry with no proven reserves left in its veins….so he will be transferring duties to a new appointee in the written word who as alluded to above comes in the shape of the divine Kay Farrow….

Goodnight & God Bless (Exeunt, stage right)
THE SCRIBE