Scribes 1988

ROSEMARY MORRISON

.. writing book

Harriers will run to help Rosemary

ABERDEEN fitness fanatics will be able to take part in the latest venture to raise cash for the brave city victim of a paralysing mystery virus.

And Aberdeen Hash House Harriers hopes its Sunday fun run will boost the Rosemary Morrison Appeal Fund by £1000.

Rosemary fell victim to the virus eleven years ago and although her movements are restricted to shaking her head and blinking her eyes, Rosemary is using a word processor to write a book about her illness.

The Hash House Harriers have lent their weight to the Rose Mary Morrison Appeal Fund by organising a 5km sponsored fun run.

More than 80 runners are expected to follow the trail of flour from Shell Social Club, North Deeside Road, Pitfodels, Cults on Sunday at 11am.

Sponsorship forms are available from Mr William Dunbar

P&J 1^st March 1989

A smiling Rosemary Morrison with members of the 1st Dyce Girl Guides who presented £253 towards her appeal fund and members of Aberdeen Hash House Harriers who presented £2068. Pictured with Rosemary are (left to right) Carol Somerville, Carolyn Mowat, Karen Thomson, Catriona Gunn, Willie Dunbar and Trevor Ancell.

Fund hits £5000 target

City folk rally to Shocked her in help Rosemary

By NICOLA SMITH

A TRAGIC Aberdeen woman is learning to live again after a mystery virus locked her in a prison of paralysis.

Today Rosemary Morrison's mum, Pearl, praised the people of Aberdeen for massive cash boost which opened the door to a whole new future.

Twelve years ago. Rosemary (33) was struck down by the mystery disease, which robbed her of the power of speech and restricted her movement to gently shaking her head.

A group of computer enthusiasts launched a special appeal fund last October for new equipment to help Rosemary complete a book about her illness.

The team's efforts triggered fund raising events throughout the city, exceeding its £5000 target.

“The equipment has brought Rosemary a complete new chunk of freedom,” said Bert Cullan, a member of the computer group.

The new system includes a voice switch and an electron-ically-controlled wheelchair.

"Everybody has been so kind and so good, and it is going to make an awful difference," said Pearl (59) of Howes View, Bucksburn.

Aberdeen Hash House Harriers boosted the fund by more than £2000, and Dyce Girl Guides raised cash for Rosemary by hosting a ceilidh.

Computer team member Angus Strachan, of Forest Avenue, Aberdeen, also raised cash for the fund through a sponsored climb of Lochnagar.

Rosemary put her new equipment to the test by constructing a letter of thanks to everyone who took part in fund-raising ventures.

It reads: "This equipment offers one thing the physically handicapped wish - in dependence"

REHASH RUN NO 272

HARES: JOY BOY & MRS & LUCY THE MUTT

At last, a Hash in the true tradition. Disorganised long before the start and continuing throughout. Only an old hand could achieve such high standards and something a lot of people should learn from.

Commence from offshore; select an out of date OS map which does not show new developments; Forestry Commission land that has been sold privately; a pub that does not like Fegen; change the ON INN but don't tell anyone unless prompted by RA and leave the rest up to the Hash.

When the Mrs handed out the run sheets the week previously, instructions were issued to Head Hare to contact The Irvine Arms, Oh! Oh! Someone hasn't heard of Fegen's popularity amongst Deeside publicans. Some would call it a cock-up, but I prefer to think of it as referring to sexual prowess. Joy Boy has come of age since his marriage. Anyway 95% of you lot probably never noticed, which is how a disorganised run should be.

After leaving my house to meet at the venue, four cars descended at approximately 5 minute intervals, running in to my wife seeking directions - the neighbours certainly have something to talk about now. Even "her indoors" thought it must be a good run, cos she turned up at the pub.

ROSS was down-downed at the start with a can of coke. I would have preferred to see him down the windscreen wiper bottle from Kent's MGD, but oh no, the Stavanger Shithouse is back like the big log that can never be flushed away, but keeps coming back.

Through the forest, now sold to a local sawmill, running on rather uneven ground which was to catch out Jed (pump up the bitter) Adams later. Did anyone see the sign that said "All loose dogs will be shot" but all our girls got home OK.

The swamp did you see that bugger, "loads of shiggy" but no Pigpen and Wild Local. Ross has lost his touch, preferring the smell of out-of-date Brut.

Even Fegen, that 'Ne’er do well' troublemaker had difficulty in attracting attention with some ratshit about the hash being like a car, Fergie the engine, hounds the wheels and Steve and Allan as the dipsticks.

As expected, well it hasn't happened for a long time, an injury occurred.

Jed obviously requiring sympathy, twisted his ankle. Head Hare had to divert home missing valuable drinking time, to procure a crap bandage for the wimp.

Highlight of the run is to see Superman emerge from the forest after all the pack had returned and were on their second beer. Poor sod, but if he won't stay on a check when first there, nor call when he is on, then bugger him.

Why doesn't he stop trying to prove he is an old runner? We all know he is old.

Overheard at the ON IN between Nicki and Hash Junky:

How many could you bonk in one night?

Be it far from me to tell tales out of school but why were T'Ropers late? - anything to do with the fact that Mother Theresa had been away for over a week and this was their only night together before she departed again!!

DOWN DOWNS AWARDED TO:

• THE STAVANGER LOG - being a venereal venerable visitor

• JED (pump up the bitter) - being a wimp with a swollen ankle he was certainly sweating more after twisting it than when he was running

• RATS - 50th run

• UNCLE BILL - Who left early but Ross accepted in absentia

• LOBOTOMY - Representing the one man Morecambe Bay

• DIANE – Hashit - For stripping off at Mr G's.

Those who ran:

Ged ADAMS

Anne WILLIAMS Hash Junky

Doug AITKEN THE STAVANGER LOG

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Adrian ATKINSON Aids

Bill BALLINGALL

Julian BARNES

Ian BERTRAM

Jackie LITTLE

John CARTER JC

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

Anne Marie TURION

Ian FORBES Flippy

Ross HALL Running Sore

Ian JOY Joy Boy

Steve LEVER Labotomy

Laura MAHADY The Body

John McINNES Michelin Man

Diane SMITH Gold Top

Walter NICKERSON

Andy PATON Bald Eagle

Gerry POTTER The Envoy

Kent PRESTON Superman

Paul RATCLIFFE Rats

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Dave ROBB Dad Dad

Howard ROPER Hippo

Theresa ROPER Mrs T

Alison SMITH Big Al

Brenda TAYLOR

Derek WOOD Captain Bligh

RUN 970

25th April - or - the Dee Motel on a Bleak Evening

Summer running is here again - there's a song there somewhere. And some faces climbing out of the winter woodwork for the Monday runs. The undersigned makes no apology for being one of them.

But what is this? Is it a poser - is it a hasher - is it ...... Mandy? Strutting around in high heels - shimmering legs - 3/4 length camel coat - and, I must confess, looking a bit spare.

Four new quines introduced to the mob at the start of the run:

• Karen - with the streaks in her hair

• Heather - the tall one

• Elaine - with the curly hair

• Irene - black hair

The pack ran straight across Brig O' Dee, and immediately ran back again - a bit of a 'chicken' run, what with the narrow bridge and oncoming traffic. But then under the bridge and away up the river. Passed a few odd persons waist deep in the river for reasons best known to themselves, and a few dogs with their owners - both of which looked apprehensive at the unsubtle approach of the hash. But the run was disappointingly dry underfoot. No obvious lumps of “drookit stoot” to fling at each other. There was no other recourse but to run for a bit. Bit of a stitch.

But a beercheck under a bridge on the old Queen Vic railway straightened things out; a bit miserable on the amount of beer available; I got a slobber out of a well-sucked can. By this time we were well on the way to Cults, and from there it was just a 2 mile jaunt back to the On-Inn. The rain never really came on, but never far away.

What was noticeable during the run was one or two fine looking chaps cutting about in pink sweatshirts; turned out to be a hangover from a gay ski-ing trip a few weeks ago - Possibly neat enough in the Alps, but certainly worth taking the piss over here.

It was a pretty motley and unenthusiastic gathering outside the hotel in the cold drizzle for the down-downs, and first off was Dad-Dad Robb for accepting a lift in a car during the run from a strange bird; and to Mandy for being that strange bird who offered the lift.

To Iain Wilkie, who insisted he was mis-quoted, who said 'didn't want to run too fast', and to Pig Pen & Oxters for being two of the aforementioned boys in pink, (at this stage Nicky arrived in her little Noddy car, looking both puzzled and pink).

For reasons that were not immediately obvious, Hash-shit of the week went to T'Ropers, and herself did the decent thing by complying with the roar from the mob to put it 'next to the skin'. And to the astonishment of a couple of local punters who were just going into the joint for a drink.

A fair enough first Monday evening run of the season, but the poxy weather better improve or I'd climb back into my winter hole.

Those who ran:

Ged ADAMS

Anne WILLIAMS Hash Junky

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Dave ARMES Oxsters

Bill BALLINGALL

Pete BARKES

Ian BERTRAM

Jackie LITTLE

Bruce BRICKNELL Pigpen

Karen CORMACK

Paul DUMONT Fourex

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

Ian FORBES Flippy

Rita GRAHAM One Cell

Ross HALL Running Sore

Elain HAWKE

Andy PATON Bald Eagle

Irene PIRRIE

Gerry POTTER The Envoy

Kent PRESTON Superman

Paul RATCLIFFE Rats

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Dave ROBB Dad Dad

Ronnie ROBB Wild Local

Heather ROBERTSON

Howard ROPER Hippo

Brenda TAYLOR

John WARTON John Boy

Iain WILKIE

APRILI 988

Run 269 at Ye Olde Worlde Castle

Greetings gentle folk of noble birth, merchants, vassals, serfs, slaves, low life’s and Numbskull.

Now it came to pass this Sabbath morn such strange happenings and goings on, a tale of which I shall endeavour to tell, so sit ye down and mark me well:

A strange array of peculiar folk didst

descend upon the land,

But twas only Captain Condom

and her very mottley band.

And lo these strangelings gathered round

to hear their leader make a sound,

"A 100 runs" was the shout, and tis how it came about

a creature known as Fergie flew

to drink a goblet of the evil brew.

Amidst the cries and shouts and wails,

these creatures scattered to find the trail.

A demoiselle of sleaze bag fame

Rushed on ahead to start the game.

How long she went awry I cannot say,

But returned, her body emblazoned "Had a nice day".

Thou couldst hear them chase around,

As they scattered on the ground,

By the clatter of their feet as they ran round and round.

They trampled through the woodlands their emblems on their chest,

They call them 'hashers' and they run the fastest hash in the west.

A battle raged on muddy ground,

To spy was just a must.

A hard packed shiggy pile caught him underneath the chin,

And Little Shit bit the dust.

And verily it came to pass,

the crossing of the marshes.

Knight Rashley bore the fair lady Carol across,

And landed on their passes (N.B. this is a Shell car park ticket ok!)

Maid Mandy's honour is now in question,

Especially when heard to say - "Who could really need to ask for more?

I've never been in that position before".

(That's not what the big boys say Mandy, but don't worry I can keep a secret).

Ye down-downs

Serf Allan, who's poor and lowly bred, Sits down and gets it into his head. Says he "I'm a man of no conviction, I've got five quid knocked off my subscription". In ye days of old when Knights were bold, And chivalry was invented, The Sheriff's men knicked John again, and went away quite contented.

A braver Knight there hast never been seen, to award the Hashit to his lovely queen. "Revenge is mine", Anna-Marie didst cry, Took his chariot and left him home and dry.

Ye Ende

Maid Rita

p.s. Ye Note from Scribe:

If you want to read better drivel than what you just did I MUST HAVE MORE SLEEZE, GOSSIP AND SCANDAL OK!

Those who ran:

Anne WILLIAMS Hash Junky

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Pete BARKES

Julian BARNES

Jackie LITTLE

Carol BUCHAN

Steve CARNEY

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

Anne Marie TURION

David FERGUSON Fergie

Valerie FERGUSON

Rita GRAHAM One Cell

George HADGRAFT

Ross HALL Running Sore

Richard HAMLETS

Chris HART

Ashley HAVENS

Sarah INNES Pink Panther

Russel JORDON

Julia FYFE Mum Mum

Greg McCANN

Mike McGOWAN

Nicky McHARG Starving Artist

John McINNES Michelin Man

Alan MILLAR Cum to late

Duncan MILLAR

James MILLER

Gerry POTTER The Envoy

Kent PRESTON Superman

Ronnie ROBB Wild Local

Helen SMITH Wifie

Alan TAILFORD

Denise TORRANCE

John WARTON John Boy

Mandy WOOD Ball Tweaker

Carmen ZOLLER

RUN No: 267 - Sunday 3rd April 1988

Venue: Strathgyle Forest, Durris

Hairs: Wee Willie & Little Shit

On Inn: Cults Hotel

Scribe: Big Willie

Easter Sunday dawned – the day of the almost penultimate Sunday Hash. The participants gathered, with excitement reaching fervour pitch as they awaited the completion of the usual pre-Hash rituals, anxious to discover the delights of Strathgyle Forest.

A dirth of Easter Bunnies/Bonnets/Eggs was noted; conventional (breakable) eggs were in abundance, and were put to good use.

A few words from the GM - fewer than usual - with some reticence on his part vis-a-vis his encounter with a gorilla in the Dutch Mill the preceding week; guest RA John McInnes awarded him the pre-event down-down for his troubles.

And so to the run. With a wave from the hares the pack raced off into the forest, to be met before long with the first of many lengthy false trails. "On-On" they cried - up the hill, bounding through the forest undergrowth, with the first of many patches of black glutinous shiggy to be crossed/ laid-down-in/ thrown at other Hashers. By the first check Running Sore was wearing full battle-honours, as was Little Shit - seventy-five runs!

By now Stomper was beginning to regret bringing his shoulder-bike, and was busy quizzing Hares as to the whereabouts of the cycle-able bits. He was last seen peddling furiously in a south-easterly direction as the pack disappeared once more into the undergrowth.

More forest trails followed - with the walking-talking brigade exclaiming their gratitude to the pack leaders for checking out the back-checks/false trails, and to Fourex for highlighting that trees have to be circumnavigated.

By now it was beginning to look like a good proportion of the Hash were suffering for previous night(s) excesses, with both Laura and Ashley being held responsible for turning the Hash into a nature-ramble - Laura for getting married, and Ashley for, well, having a party!

At the Beer-Check a Hash-decision was needed - two trails, each one with flour - which one was false?

Running Sore bravely followed Wee Willie down the left trail; other Hashers milled about for a bit - Aids et al went for the right (correct!) trail, with the body of the Hash following the Hare for a two-mile hike to nowhere.

The back-check loomed - as did Stomper, coming the other way. To anguished cries from the pack the Hare about-turned, On-On past the Beer-Check again, and along the right-hand trail.

A long stretch of road followed - uneventful except for the false-trail that petered out in Strathgyle swamp (did anyone actually fall for it? Ed.), and soon the On-In appeared - another Hash completed without loss; many thanks to the Hares.

Thereafter On-On to the Cults Hotel/Hash Social Club for more good food and friendly repartee.

Down-Downs were awarded to:

• Little Shit Seventy-five runs

• Fourex Glasgow-kissing a Scots Pine

• Mandy For doing it wrong

• Laura For getting married

• Ashley For sending flowers to Diane

• Ross For mis-behaving in the presence of the guest RA

• Steve For being Steve

• Steve also gratefully accepted the Hashit - reason unknown, but probably for being Steve!

Those who ran:

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Adrian ATKINSON Aids

Julian BARNES

Jackie LITTLE

Bruce BRICKNELL Pigpen

John CARTER JC

Paul DUMONT Fourex

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

David FERGUSON Fergie

Ian FORBES Flippy

Rita GRAHAM One Cell

Ross HALL Running Sore

Ashley HAVENS

Julia FYFE) Mum Mum

Steve LEVER Labotomy

Andy LIGGINS

Laura MAHADY The Body

Greg McCANN

Nicky McHARG Starving Artist

John McINNES Michelin Man

Eric MERRAL

Andrew MOWAT Fallguy

Andy PATON Bald Eagle

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Helen SMITH Wifie

Iain SUTHERLAND

John WARTON John Boy

Helen WILSON

Mandy WOOD Ball Tweaker

Run No. 265

Borsalino's, Peterculter

Unaccustomed as I am to public writing but with the usual German tactics applied to finding a hash scribe, here goes.

A good turn out on this fine June (or was it March?) morning at Peterculter with lots of exposure of pale sickly white hash skins to the rays.

Down down award at the beginning of the run to Ashley "Tom Cruise lookalike" (his words!) Havens for doing a Rip Van Winkle act right thro' my 21 again birthday celebrations - how dare he, young whippersnapper!

The hash had hardly gotten in full swing when one of our intrepid hares i.e. Pigpen was bleeped to a nearby tardis but unfortunately (sorry, luckily!) was not called away to leave us all fumbling around looking for the trail, as is customary with the Aberdeen hashers.

A good start to the hash which sorted out the frb's right away with a good mile and half falsey and backcheck - serves you right for being too keen!!! Quote the other hare of Bambi fame to the scb's at this point what do you want to do all that running for?' Soon Stomper's advice to all us sensible?! scb's the intrepid crossing of the river was attempted by a handful of us across a series of pipes and on on into the new housing estate beyond the bridge.

Zula must have thought that all her birthdays had come at once as she took off in hot pursuit of a pussy (cat) across the Brookside estate with Mum Mum exercising her lungs to full capacity to get her to heel.

At this point, the frb's caught up with the rest of the pack and it was on up a hill which left us all panting. Nicky 'Sleazbag' McHarg at this point decided to blow her nose on Running Sore's T shirt - she's probably an aids victim by now.

On on into a forest where lots of shiggy throwing went on with Running Sore putting mud in Dave (Oxters) Armes oxters?! He probably deserved it.

A good back check in the woods again caught out a lot of the frb's - credit for the clever setting by the 2 Beatrix Potter hares involved.

On on we hashed until suddenly we were into open fields and pastures. At this point the RA was spotted doing her Julie Andrews "Hills are alive" impersonation, yes fellow hashers, she was running!!!!! She told me that she hadn't been feeling too well all weekend!!

on on through more fields and onto the road which most of us sensible scb's stuck to.

For the keeney's on the right trail it was on on by the disused railway line into Peterculter where rumour has it that Running Sore was thrown into a puddle (surprise, surprise!) which left him with a foaming willy - I hear the auld wifey's in Peterculter got an eyeful. (But of what one asks oneself?)

Ashley, Aids and Alan claimed they were wolf whistled for showing their manly? Bodies to a lot of female 'crumpet' in a passing car - reckon the average age or was it I.Q.? Must have been about 15.

On in changed from Leuchars lounge to the Old Mill Inn at Champers where a very poshly dressed coach load of people descended on the place at the same time as the Aberdeen hash - I'm surprised they didn't load up the coach again, down on the accelerator and off into the blue yonder - what a sight the hash are to behold on a quiet Sunday afternoon to the uninitiated!!!!!

After sunning ourselves on the patio outside and trying to colour our sickly white bodies with what is sometimes called a 'suntan', the down down's quickly followed after all the hash chips had been ordered, nicked, devoured, etc. etc.

In the Irish spirit to celebrate St. Patrick's day, all down down's were in Guinness.

1st down down to Paddy 'Greig' who arrived with Nicky. 'Sleazbag' McHarg claiming he'd gotten lost on his way to Ballyena.

2nd down down to myself for being 21 again.

3rd down down to intrepid hare Stomper for having more tread on his running shoes than on that mountain bike (sorry, Audi!) that he drives.

4th down down to new runner 'love handles' Julian for coming to a hash social occasion before a run and for not ordering hash chips - sacrilege!

2 hashit T shirts (both of which should have been carrying a. government health warning) were given out to

(a) Pigpen who keeps forgetting to bring hashit T shirts back - probably 'cos he gets them so often he loses count of how many he has

(b) To Dad Dad - don't know what for but I suppose just for being Dad Dad was enough.

On that happy note, a well set hash and thank you to Stomper and Pigpen.

Goldtop

Those who ran:

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Dave ARMES Oxsters

Adrian ATKINSON Aids

Julian BARNES

Bruce BRICKNELL Pigpen

Carol BUCHAN

Paul DUMONT Fourex

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

Anne Marie TURION

David FERGUSON Fergie

Rita GRAHAM One Cell

Ross HALL Running Sore

Ashley HAVENS

Julia FYFE Mum Mum

Greg McCANN

Nicky McHARG Starving Artist

Ali MITCHELL

Diane SMITH Gold Top

Sarah PATION

Andy PATON Bald Eagle

Gerry POTTER The Envoy

Kent PRESTON Superman

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Dave ROBB Dad Dad

Ronnie ROBB Wild Local

Alison SMITH Big Al

Alan TAILFORD

Richard THOMPSON Stomper

John WARTON John Boy

Danny WEBSTER

Run No.264a

THE BALLAD OF NETHYBRIDGE

Thursday evening

Several diehards set off on Thursday night complete with a full orchestra a mobile art gallery (Niki never likes to miss the chance of a sale) and enough food to feed the 5,000. Alan and Steve shared the driving - Alan steered and Steve pedalled.

We arrived to find the Heatherbrae being broken gently into our presence by the Richmond’s and the brothers Robb. The barmaid informed us that the nearest chipper was 15 miles away so Ronnie treated us to his cordon bleu Style baked beans (thought we would save on the gas meter by producing our Own).

Friday A.M.

We woke fresh as daisies at 6.30 a.m. bleary eyed at 8.30 a.m. Oh for the crisp sunny slopes of Courmayeur rather than the wet slush of Aviemore. But every Cloud has a silver lining and today it took the form of the free Pernod promotion which soon put a smile on our faces.

Eventually the mountain men tired of being macho, returned to the warmth and conviviality of the bar (some of us more sensible types had been here since lunch time).

Niki perfected her toy boy trapping technique and persuaded two -impressionable young lads from London to contribute to our bar bill. Later she showed of her prowess at wooing the over 65's did he realise she was only after his pension book?

Sometime later at the Heatherbrae .

Hashers turned up thick and fast, or thick and slow in the case of those who took the "short cut" over the Lecht. The barman looked apprehensive when at the call of “Dead Ant”. all to a man (and woman) lay on their backs with their legs in the air - I think it was all a ploy by Dad Dad to get Little Shit’s missis to flash her tits.

The rest of the evening's events are very hazy and will remain so provided the payments continue to be deposited in my Swiss bank account - Suffice to say that the only one of our party to be banned from the pub was Lucy and she as the best behaved of all!!

Saturday a.m.

Difficult to say much about this as your scribe spent most of it in bed asleep. My agents tell me the following titbits:

Martin and Delilah didn't forget their ski rack key

Numbskull laid low all day - did nobody tell him that Dave Robb had gone to Inverness?

Stomper and Pigpen arrived complete with a virgin ice axe and confirmed the terrible truth that Alison had finally succumbed to Retard’s dubious charms.

Steve made the momentous discovery that when his fuel gauge reads zero it’s time to buy more petrol.

Paul's a wanker!

Saturday evening

The hash cabaret got under way with the Newcastle mafia, followed by the Wild Local’s rendition of the Skye Boat Song.

J.C., Pig Pen and Eagle Armes performed an interesting set of manoeuvres with several balloons (there was no need to blow the lip as big as you did boys. They stand about as much chance of getting on the Paul Daniels Show as the Reah sisters will of making it on to Top of the Pops.

John Denver alias Rasley and his backing band got plenty of heckling as did super stud Paul - A typical hash audience makes the New Faces panel look like a kindergarten at siesta time.

End of part one

STOP PRESS

Joy Boy is branching out into the removal business - he is so efficient he has moved your personal effects before you even ask – for recommendations see the Ancells’.

Has anyone noticed how much more attention J.C. pays to other women when her indoors is stranded in the middle of the North Sea - earning the Dosh to keep him in the manner to which he wishes to be become accustomed.

Any abusive phone calls concerning the content of this literary masterpiece will be reported to my agent - he will deal with any complaints then he returns from his coaching session with Frank Bruno...

Ball Tweaker

Those who ran:

Ged ADAMS

Anne WILLIAMS Hash Junky

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Dave ARMES Oxsters

Adrian ATKINSON Aids

Jackie LITTLE

Bruce BRICKNELL Pigpen

John CARTER JC

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

Ashley HAVENS

Sarah INNES Pink Panther

Ian JOY Joy Boy

Julia FYFE Bannana (Mum Mum)

Steve LEVER Labotomy

Laura MAHADY The Body

Nicky McHARG Starving Artist

John McINNES Michelin Man

Diane SMITH Gold Top

Gerry POTTER The Envoy

Kent PRESTON Superman

Maureen PRESTON

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Dave ROBB Dad Dad

Ronnie ROBB Wild Local

Fiona ROSE

Alison SMITH Big Al

Helen SMITH Wifie

Alan TAILFORD

Richard THOMPSON Stomper

Sheila THOMSON

John WARTON John Boy

Mandy WOOD Ball Tweaker

Run No.264

Cove Bay

Dear Hashers,

Having arrived a bit early, over half an hour to be precise, and eleven O’clock being the only other thing arriving quickly, I decided to walk up the hill, into the twilight zone of Cove, to see if anyone else was stirring on this cold breezy morning.

On arriving at Cove's only bus shelter, I find Fergie putting the final touches to the run (well after eleven O’clock). Five minutes later Mrs. Fergie (the only woman I know who has stalagmites growing in her mouth) arrives with the gluhwein after putting more finishing touches to the run?

Anyway, time was passing and the On Inn was opening at high noon. So after all traditions, nominations etc. off went the lonesome Hasher, Running Sore (what a hero), with a hobbling Fergie, making sure that the Hares didn't lose the whole Hash, but not giving any clues either.

It was nice to run round Cove, counting how many times the same police car passed doing their kerb crawling act (does this happen to all Hashers, or just the good looking ones?), not having to wait on the walky talkies, not risking going over on one ankle (and for those interested, it is getting better (my doctor says a little massage would help, any volunteers (female only) wanting to massage a little Ross into a big Ross, apply below)).

Where was I, yes, extolling the virtues of running round Cove on your own on a cold Sunday morning and of not getting lost, not being left behind, not needing to short cut and not being passed by S.C.B.'s. But more important, winning,winning for its own sake (screw the spirit of competing and not winning), being first back (he is on his way back at long last), and not having to wait for the rest to arrive back.

Alright, I was also last back, but that was only because I got a bit lost on the way back.

After two gluhwein each (well somebody had to drink it), it was off to the Cove Bay Rangers (tardis) social club for a well-earned cheap pint and fish with plenty of chips, and no thieving bastards around.

Then on to the Down Down's from the guest R.A. Mrs. Fergie:

• 1st to Fergie - Because he was still sober, and for short cutting.

• 2nd to George (the Chef) - For getting us into the club, doing the cooking for such large numbers, and for eating his own cooking. -

• 3rd to Mrs. Fergie - For being the R.A. and still not running (what's new?) and for passing her driving test (now Fergie can get pissed at the runs!).

• 4th to Running Sore - For being the only runner, apart from the Hares, completing the run, and besides nobody else wanted it!

On the whole a well laid short town run.

Running Sore.

P.S. Total collected £3.00 Expenditure on Down Down's. -£3.43 Balance -£0.43 and an unhappy Numbskull.

Those who ran:

David FERGUSON Fergie

Valerie FERGUSON

Ross HALL Running Sore

RUN No. 262

HARE: Ross Hall

SUNDAY 28TH FEBRUARY

GORDON ARMS

The Teddy woke and stretched a paw out from beneath the duvet and rubbed its sleepy eyes. A quick look out of the window merely convinced the bear that its favourite place is bed. This was confirmed when the radio started giving out storm warnings. However, even bears have obligations - this was Sunday and there was a hash to be run!

The little bear jumped out of bed, bandaged up its ill-used limbs, donned lots of woolly clothes and jumped into the car, narrowly & missing a swipe from Garfield's claws. (That cat's been taking lessons from someone - but that's another story). When you are as old as the bear in this story (which isn't really all that old) you remember the good old days when giving the R.A. a lift to the hash ensured that they would not start without you. Those days are gone. The hash is now full of greedy little boys, not merely wanting self-glory, but also the beer.

As Teddy & friends screamed up Wellington Road, horn blaring, Steve had taken Alison's place and boldly awarded himself a down.down.

By the time we arrived in the car park everyone had departed. In fast deteriorating weather we raced after them predictably catching up at the check outside Shell where everyone was pondering which way to go. Rumour has it that half the hash can be seen doing this five mornings a week...

With eventual prompting from the hare we worked out that the trail led passed the pub and into Loirston Country Park (?!) All was well between Cat Cairn and Baron's Cairn apart from Pink Panther missing a short cut and Aids running so fast back from a back cheek he missed the actual trail...

From Baron's Cairn both Hash & weather went downhill fast. The walking, talking brigade had given up Walking and were talking about returning. Teddy did not think this was a good idea although half an hour later, a miles from the pub in a blizzard, realized that even a bear of quite big brain can make a mistake.

The trail continued into a sand quarry where we were all sand blasted then up onto the tip, where our bodies are were assaulted by garbage and our olfactory organs assaulted by God knows what. Teddy suggested it was something the GM had eater the night before, but he only looked horrified that someone could accuse him of aroma (easy really). Those new to Aberdeen will now have discovered that country Park is a Rubislaw Den expression for municipal tip...

A sweep search of the tip failed to reveal trail, beer check or hare. The forces regrouped on Baron's Cairn and then had another go, again losing the trail amid the pong of 10 years of Aberdeen rubbish.

Suddenly, two hashers broke free from the group and headed for the coast road. They must be “on”, so the half dozen remaining hashes foolishly followed them. Teddy was rather puzzled by the lack of flour, but then there hadn't been much around all day.

In retrospect Teddy now realizes that a certain newish runner had been influenced by Superman and thought the idea was to invent your own trail. The big question on the Teddy's mind “so what the hell was it doing padding along passed Doonie Farm when the Beer check was at the king George Bridge*”. It would have involved putting a paw down Running Sore's T-shirt to get the bottle opener but anything would have been better than completing the run in a white out. Never has the Gordon Arms been so inviting.

There's definitely something wrong with little boys who would rather drag a Teddy round the country side than tuck it up in bed.

The on-on was notable for having good warming food, hash rice, large hash chips (I think that's what Steve meant when he said he had a big one) and even more notable for the circulation of pictures of the Teddy Bears Party and other hash bashes. The GM. now has the most looked at bum between Aberdeen and Brunei!

Love & Cuddles

Teddy

* Yes, Ross - I saw it on Monday night!

Down Downs were awarded outside in the snow to the following worthy candidates:

• Bob: new Runner.

• Sarah: for being overheard complaining that she wasn't getting it, or was that her sausage supper she was talking about.

• Fourex: for putting green finger prints on the R.A.'s sweatshirt and telling her hay would wash out. (The R.A. should know not to believe anything that men say)

• Steve/Aids for awarding themselves down-downs before the runs

• Alison If they can do it why can't she, and she needed a triple gin anyway

• Fergie for trying to ruin John Boys diet by telling Alison to give him a Guinness down down and for letting everyone see his bum.

Those who ran:

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Adrian ATKINSON Aids

Steve BALDWIN

Jackie LITTLE

Paul BRUNNING

Moira CALLANDER

Paul DUMONT Fourex

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

David FERGUSON Fergie

Valerie FERGUSON

Bob GREEN

Ross HALL Running Sore

Ashley HAVENS

Sarah INNES Pink Panther

Steve LEVER Labotomy

Fraser MAYWOOD

Diane SMITH Gold Top

Andrew MOWAT Fallguy

Andy PATON Bald Eagle

Kent PRESTON Superman

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Alison SMITH Big Al

John WARTON John Boy

RUN 261

The day dawned bright - and then we had a couple of hour’s kip.

Arrived at the Cults Hotel 11.00 sharp, Val and Laura looking not a day older. Pity the same couldn't be said for Joy Boy.

Following a down down for XXXX on his 25th run (sorry Martin, didn't realise it was your 50th or naturally you would have been first choice), On On was called to the right. Naturally, it was to the left.

Up a little hill, wandered by a little stream and then the first beer check. Never one to break a habit, yours truly was last to arrive, only to be handed a beer can by one of the new runners with the words "Better give this to a member of the committee". What a crawler I thought, then realised the tin was empty. What a ....... I thought.

After much haranguing by the Hares - Well Bruce (come to think of it, the only evidence I have that XXXX was actually on the run was a few green paw marks on the bums and tits of a few long suffering female hashers - and with a haircut like that, who's interested anyway).

Having lost the track of the sentence above, I'll start again. After much haranguing by Bruce, the trail followed along the road in what seemed to be a never-ending loop.

A couple of beer checks later and the trail eventually veered off the road, through a wood and then into a field, over a fence which was definitely higher than the average leg length. Unfortunately, this field belonged to someone and that someone wasn't very amused. (Why on earth anyone would want to lay claim a piece of God-forsaken, bog-ridden, ditch-filled bit of scrubland, is beyond the limit of a hasher's understanding.)

However, this harridan claimed she owned it, and who were we to disagree, especially whilst passing on by. The only hasher she managed to catch was Kent who, as per normal, had followed his nose in totally the wrong direction and, as per normal, was several miles off the pace. Kent did not let us down. Manfully he chatted this woman up, calmed her down, prevented her from calling the police, and then gave her Fergie's name and address. Readers, the girls amongst us will sympathise with this poor woman's plight, have we not all been duped in this way before by such Cads.

The walking, talking section avoided this field and, for their sins, got lost in the woods with Ross. This was not a particularly inspiring experience, especially for Stomper struggling through the undergrowth on his bike.

Out again into daylight and a long run down to the main road, to be met by hashers arriving from all directions. The trail went to the right, the SCB's went to the left.

-

2

-

Back to the Cults Hotel and a ten minute wait for the rest of the hash to arrive, again from all directions.

It should be noted at this point that first back (officially) were the two new runners, going a great pace. Someone should have words with these boys.

On in for hash chips. It was here that the hangovers from the night before became most obvious. Never in the field of human hashing has so little beer been drunk by an RA, either before, during or after a hash (and I wasn't the only one on the orange juice).

Down Downs:

XXXX 25th Run

Martin 50th Run. Awarded his 50th Run T-Shirt which was on loan from Rita. As we all know, hash funds are low right now, so Rita will just have to get used to sharing a T-shirt.

Kent For issuing false credentials. (Wish Kent would get into the habit of retaining his beer, instead of throwing it up all the time.)

John Boy Soda Water and Lime, just to prove his commitment to loosing 1 stone in weight in 2 weeks.

Val Just 'cos she can do it (Drink a pint I mean)

HH - Bruce

Where do I start?

Customising his car, driving without lights in daylight, false address on his licence.

Trying to get away with spending French Francs in Italy - a prime example of the average intelligence of the very average hasher.

Alison

Those who ran:

Ged ADAMS

Anne WILLIAMS Hash Junky

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Dave ARMES Oxsters

Adrian ATKINSON Aids

Fiona BICK Fifi

Jackie LITTLE

Bruce BRICKNELL Pigpen

Graham DALZEIL

Alastair DICKSON Hash Drunk

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

Kate ELKS

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

David FERGUSON Fergie

Valerie FERGUSON

Rita GRAHAM One Cell

Ashley HAVENS

Sarah INNES Pink Panther

Russel JORDON

Ian JOY Joy Boy

Julia FYFE Bannana

Laura MAHADY The Body

Nicky McHARG Starving Artist

John McINNES Michelin Man

Eric MERRAL

Diane SMITH Gold Top

Andy PATON Bald Eagle

Gerry POTTER The Envoy

Margaret REID

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Ronnie ROBB Wild Local

Howard ROPER Hippo

Theresa ROPER Mrs T

Alan TAILFORD

Sheila THOMSON

Denise TORRANCE

John WARTON John Boy

DATE: 07/02/88

RUN: 259

VENUE: KEMNAY JUNGLE

- A momentous occasion on which Sarah ran,

I could bear it no longer, the pain of withdrawal symptoms from trying to kick Hash, for over 10 months, overcame my iron will and my nerves of steel. I woke up that Sunday morning, with the usual fits of delirium and cold turkey (who left that there?), knowing that my life was about to change and that I just had to go. After I went, and several hours of deep meditation later, I eventually found the mould encrusted hashing togs, waiting patiently to be disinfected from my last run (Nethybridge '87).

Arriving at a muddy car park? in the middle of the forest, I was glad to see that nothing had changed during my absence. There was still that lack of organisation reminiscent of total chaos. T'Roper was still wearing that tea cosy on her head (or was it a Peruvian athletic support?). Everyone else looked slightly hungover or at least those that weren't were putting on a good show.

From the silent depths of the dark and dingy forest, the wild beast roared..... "on, on!" and fifty-two feet pounded into action, including Sarah's. Traction was poor in the prevailing icy conditions. Those that afforded four-foot drive seemed to be coping better than those with the outdated (and quite frankly, much overrated) two, but were later disqualified due to unsportsmanlike tactics (obstruction, groin poking and generally shitting on the paths). Some even resorted to modern technology by applying extra ballast to their fronts, a good effort but I think the damping mechanism still needs a little more development (have you tried a little "for-sprung dutch techniques"?).

It took me quite a long time to perfect the technique for running through forested areas, circumnavigating the large hard pieces of flora helped. Circumnavigating Steve (looking resplendent in his school uniform) close to ditches full of water was a different kettle of fish. I had this strange feeling that he was trying to push people in, but then again I could be wrong of course.

After a quick run (Sarah included) along an open stretch of road, we came to Kemnay Swamp. A deranged youngster was later heard to remark upon the absence of unfrozen shiggy, the swamp resembled chocolate ice cream but after the freezer door had been left open all night. I was half expecting an ugly swamp monster to rise from the steaming depths, but I was assured that Selwyn couldn't make it.

A fatal error was made at this point, the entire Hash followed "is it a bird?, is it a plane?, no it's SUPERman" across a field........and got lost. But no matter, the air was sweet with country smells (who did have that vindaloo?). Some up and coming youngster, using his immense tracking skills and sense of direction, led us back to the trail. This is where I really screwed up (so to speak) and kept on following SUPERman, what a gumbo!!! I was told afterwards that the rest of the Hash went really well without me, with everyone having a good time, Sarah running, Fegin chasing the dog with brown hair and generally keeping to the trail through more trees, pity I missed it all!

Emerging from the forest into a clearing I happened perchance to see a fair maiden, quite flushed and looking harassed, being chased by the flashing hasher Bruce (G'day). Both were looking somewhat exhausted after their half hour excursion into the bushes. Obviously not enough exercise can be gained from simply just hashing on a Sunday morning.

Towards the end of the Hash, I caught up with the hard core hashers (Fergie, Anne, Martin and many many more). But you can't run very far in a car park especially when vintage gluhwein is being passed around, a rather fruity little number with a good bouquet.

The athletes retired to that well known Inn the "Gushet Neuk" in the roaring metropolis of Kemnay. Kemnay must be run by communists, everyone owns a piece of the town.....the Spar shop owner thought he owned the road.....Bxxxxx Orf!

For those wimps that missed all the fun and party games, we had a great time. Prince Charming was given his post hashing massage by the Nubile Nicky (photos available for a suitable fee). Bruce (G'day) fell for the old funnel and coin trick, not very clever when Andy had given a demonstration of what to do to people who put funnels down the front of their trousers! Rhona came into her element accompanied by Young Arthur on the wheeze box, and all joined in. A final rendition of Father Abraham brought the day to a close and finally chased away my withdrawal symptoms.

Incidentally did I mention that Sarah ran???!!!

P.S. I heard that the reason Young Paul was a bit under the weather on Sunday was that he didn't get a cup of tea in bed that morning (unlike Saturday!!!!)

DOWN DOWNS:

• Rhona "the failed Pink Panther" for wearing designer pink hashing kit

• Dog owners (Laura, Andy and Julia) "the Animals" for creating havoc with their Hash-hounds

• Bruce for accosting new female runners (Rhona) in the woods

• HASHIT:

• Julia F "Too small" for taking two hours to decide her new T-shirt wouldn't be big enough

• NEW RUNNERS:

• Eric "looks like a hasher" and Rhona "looks .............. Phew!"

More power to your elbow!

John Boy

Those who ran:

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Jackie LITTLE

Bruce BRICKNELL Pigpen

John CARTER JC

John CRUICKSHANK Bentshaft

Alastair DICKSON Hash Drunk

Paul DUMONT Fourex

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

David FERGUSON Fergie

Valerie FERGUSON

Ian FORBES Flippy

David FYFE

Ashley HAVENS

Sarah INNES Pink Panther

Ian JOY Joy Boy

Julia FYFE Bannana

Steve LEVER Labotomy

Laura MAHADY The Body

Roana McANDREW

Nicky McHARG Starving Artist

Eric MERRAL

Andy PATON Bald Eagle

Kent PRESTON Superman

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Theresa ROPER Mrs T

John WARTON

HAGGIS 'AN NEEPS HASH

RUN #257 @ KIRKTON OF DURRIS ON 24th JANUARY 1988

HARES: Dad-Dad & Flippy

It was on the day of the long rains during Aberdeen's monsoon period that the Hash found themselves huddled together on a hillside overlooking Kirkton of Durris.

We arrived just in time to witness Superman's appalling efforts at quaffing a can of the amber nectar. Just rewards, apparently, because on the previous week he lured the R.A. up a rutted track, which lead to the demise of the exhaust system on her ageing convoluted hedge-hog machine.

For my sin in arriving at all I was appointed to be Hash Scribe.

There followed a sermon on the growing number of hostelries suffering from that anti-social disease, the "Numbskull" virus, before the mob dispersed into the local woodlands.

Scantily clad, with the exception of P.P. in her polar survival outfit, the hashers bravely threw themselves at the mercy of the elements - which consisted mainly of hydrogen and oxygen chemically combined.

The first hurdle - or rather stone wall....... and Mandy, now covered from the hectic pace of her ultra-social New Year revelries, acquired three faults. Whilst her fellow hashers nonchalantly leapt over this minor obstacle, topped with virility endangering barbed wire, Manders searched for a non-existent gate - and consequently was not seen again until after the last drop of mulled wine had gurgled noisily down Ross Hall's throat at the finish.

On-on across a patch of sauelchy rough grazing land, and Little Shit's efforts to further drench George and Alan at a swollen stream came to naught - they were already 100% wet (always have been !).

Gerry - "I used to have a small one" - Potter did so at the rear, listening to Pink Panther. Doubtless he was quietly celebrating the 1st anniversary of his great escape from the Archbishop of Canterbury!

Back in the woods again and Andy Paton took the opportunity to kill a few weeds while the Wild Local wheezed along, his moustache acting as an excellent catchment area for his plentiful snotters.

It was good to hear once again the strangulated tones of the Hash Horn. This can only get better, as Rats lungs continue their gradual recovery from the years of nicotine neglect.

Meanwhile Mrs Rats diligently awaited the return of her beau (?) back at the (t)rusty MGBGT (newly returned from the garage) - oxygen equipment ready, should it prove necessary!

Eventually the Hash struggled past Woodlands, where Ross was seen molesting his newfound playmate Carol, by kicking water in her face. No longer a virgin Hasher however, she was giving as good as she got, and rumours are she even threatened to knit him a woolly hat!

At the entrance to Clune Woods, a beer check served to regroup our athletes; Ronnie having made a slight detour to view some derelict real estate (country house with potential - slight refurbishment required) was the last to arrive.

Whilst Flippy complained vehemently that no-one was partaking of the softies, a contingent of the Aberdeen & District Motor Club, awakening to the fact that they had a quorum present, elected to hold an impromptu committee meeting.

An uphill dash, with Superman catching yet another lengthy backcheck, took us to the far end of the wood - not far from the stone circle that no-one bothered to go and view. George, with his jet propulsion, clocked a good time over this stage.

A longish stretch of road pounding now took the front runners to the next check in Durris Forest. The handsome, athletic, J.C. arrived first, of course. Gerry showed his navigational capabilities by volunteering to check out the uphill route which was obviously diametrically opposite to that necessary to regain the sanctuary of the On-Inn car park! Wild Local and Martin were the only others to bother visiting this check, the rest of the Hash being guided by the hares across a thick, scrubby, whin and gorse ridden short cut involving a steepish gully.

Although many of the runners (?) were caught by yet another long uphill back-check, the more experienced among us were heading downhill, following their acutely developed instincts.

The final section involved a fair bit of cross-country meandering, and for some the perils of a river crossing or three! It was while following a flourless track down by the river that I chanced across the forlorn and pathetic figure of a late-starter Hasher still trying to find his way out to the first check! With one arm in a plaster he was lurching and scrambling over the boulders like some grotesquely deformed orang-outang!

Meanwhile Sarah had stopped talking for long enough to listen to Dad-Dad's good short-cutting advice, which added another 10 minutes to her time, as well as that of Hash Junkie (who seemed to require copious amounts of hugs from Ged in order to keep warm), and the newly eligible Jackie.

Fi-Fi, despite her avowed intent to get super-fit in time for the forthcoming Skashpedition, was also a regrettable addition to the W.T. section!

However, Therese and Fergie seemed to arrive much later than even the above mentioned laggards!

And so eventually it was sad farewells to Numbskull, and on to the Crofters Lounge public bar (if you get my meaning).

Mony a tasty haggi was consumed wi' ne'er a thocht o' Rabbie, an' soon the guilty had to be publicly castigated.

Retribution was almost bestowed upon Nicki, who was modelling the latest in noses, available at no discount from Hash Junk.

Retribution was gladly accepted by the following unmentionables:

• Rats, for coming back...

• George, for the insiduous use of nerve gas....

• Flippy, for losing Mandy....

• Therese, for grand-dad snatching......

• Dad - Dad, for being a sneak.... for the appalling weather... for cruelty to dogs.... for being Dad-Dad....

JC

Those who ran:

Ged ADAMS

Anne WILLIAMS Hash Junky

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Fiona BICK Fifi

Jackie LITTLE

Bruce BRICKNELL Pigpen

Carol BUCHAN

John CARTER JC

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

David FERGUSON Fergie

Ian FORBES Flippy

George HADGRAFT

Ross HALL Running Sore

Sarah INNES Pink Panther

Nicky McHARG Starving Artist

Andy PATON Bald Eagle

Gerry POTTER The Envoy

Kent PRESTON Superman

Paul RATCLIFFE Rats

Jill RATCLIFFE

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Dave ROBB Dad Dad

Ronnie ROBB Wild Local

Alan TAILFORD

Mandy WOOD Ball Tweaker

#256 .

HASH RUN FETTERESSO FOREST AGAIN!!!

It is not often the Hare is given the privilege by the G.M. of also scribing the event. It must be a compliment for setting such an interesting run which even people with hangovers could participate.

Thus the Hash met at the Marine Hotel in Stonehaven to proceed in convoy to the jump off point. The dreaded Fetteresso Forest that claimed many victims on the previous run including scalps of the likes of Fergie, McGuinnes, Little Shit, Anne etc. So the convoy went back to the forest of no reprieve. The track was diabolical and I lost "my M.G. twice. Aberdeen Motors must be rubbing their hands with glee at the thought of repairing exhausts, suspensions and general body work.

A shitty track 'means a good run so we all pressed on avoiding pot holes, craters and giving two fingers to anyone who was going to stop our run. The G.M. had failed to turn up so Little Shit was appointed G.M. and Theresa R.A. in the absence of Alison.

Down Downs awarded and run about to start when G.M., Alison, Val and Adrian (Aids) turn up.

Get this run started was the cry so off over the stream to a back check went the front runners Alan, John MCG and Little Shit. The female brigade Theresa, Pink Panther, Mandy, Julia and Nicky had picked up the correct trail and eventually we found the bridge. At this point with the two Hares refusing to leave the check the rest decided to go off on a false trail despite no accompanying Hares. Why are hashers so stupid?

I then proceeded to lay a blue trail to assist the walker’s in. avoiding the harsh Fetteresso Forest. Eventually a worn out section of the hash front runners, led by Martin, joined the walkers at the next check (at the ruin). After much persuasion the trails were checked out - John McG going off on a run into the void without seeing a single spot of flour. Then disaster a 1200 metre long back check was rubbed out by Little Shit and the hash followed up it with the exception of Fergie, Val and Alison who returned to the cars after 20 minutes on the run. Excuses were that the previous party had sapped all energy but really the bottle is not there for Fetteresso Forest. I laid the easy blue run for the short cutters but no-one turned up. The rubbed out backcheck had sent most of the hash into the forest, with the exception of the trio of felines Theresa, Sarah and Julia who now followed my easy blue trail.

My fellow Hare Ross managed to convince Mandy, Dot Dot, Anne and Nicky that they were really on a back check and made their way back on the blue run.

At the midpoint of the run, I was twiddling my thumbs wondering what the hell had happened to the hash as we were now in deep forest.

But look John MCG trots up the track and says where is everyone (he having previously run 2 miles on no flour at all, 180 degrees the wrong way). No idea I says but the trail now goes up to the top of the hill. John and I then went up through the forest, but I left him to try and discover where the hash had got to. From my aerial position, I spotted my co Hare Ross leading Mandy and Nicky up the track, but what of the rest of the hash? Clambering down the mountain I discovered a squad of hashers running up towards me all in step singing "Father Abraham". They had all apparently tried to short cut upon discovering the back check had been rubbed out. It was then decision time, do we go up on the white run or back home on the blue run.

Aids, Little Shit, Alan, and new runner William joined me to crack the forest. Meanwhile, Numbskull had met up with John McG and was attempting to get back to the cars with Ross, Mandy, Anne and Martin. After cracking the second forest climb the valiant six of us crawled, ran and scrambled through thick forest to reach the top. Then followed a quick shiggy run down with Sula ending up head first in a bog, up to a track the On On was found with amazing scenes. Theresa, Julia and Sarah were coming down the track when they should have been in the pub one hour ago.

My co Hare (Ross) had put a misleading arrow up hill and our poor disorientated girls had walked for two miles in the opposite direction to the cars. In fact the cars were only half mile away.

Out of the trees all manner of hashers appeared. The final check by the stream had proved too difficult and male hashers had to comfort other males and give assistance to poor disillusioned females who could not tell north from south or water flowing up to water flowing down. The scenes were very distressing and tears from Julia, Sarah and Theresa who couldn't tell the direction of water were most upsetting.

The valiant hash having cracked the Fetteresso Forest then found the cars with Dot Dot, Aids, Numbskull, Martin, Anne, Alison, John McG all now on the right route with our intrepid girls Julia, Sarah and Theresa bringing up the rear.

Onto the Marine Hotel at Stonehaven where the food stopped serving at 2.00 p.m. instead of the promised 2.30 p.m. The early nosh closing, the rubbed out backcheck by Little Shit and the wrong direction arrow at the On In by my co Hare Ross obviously contributed to my five Down Downs and hashit.

A kangaroo court then sentenced me to a ban from setting any further runs. It appears the Fetteresso Forest has claimed yet another victim.

Down Downs

• John MCG + me 75 Runs

• Clark Kent + me Last Run

• Me Shitty Run

• Ross + me Helping me set the run

• Linda + me New shoes

• Me Shitty run

• Hashit Me - Shitty run

Hare Note

Hashing is not for wimps. No sympathy given to pissed hashers who can't keep up or follow like sheep without using what little brains they have.

Those who ran:

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Adrian ATKINSON Aids

Jackie LITTLE

Willie DUNBAR Wee Willie

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

David FERGUSON Fergie

Valerie FERGUSON

Ross HALL Running Sore

Sarah INNES Pink Panther

Julia FYFE Bannana

Tim LITTLE

Laura MAHADY The Body

Nicky McHARG Starving Artist

John McINNES Michelin Man

Gordon PARK

Dorothy MARTIN NotDot

Gerry POTTER The Envoy

Kent PRESTON Superman

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Theresa ROPER Mrs T

Alison SMITH Big Al

Alan TAILFORD

Mandy WOOD Ball Tweaker

RUN 255

FINTRAY FOREST

THE ADVENTURES OF

LITTLE SHIT

SUPER HERO!

Sunday started like most other Sunday's, crisp blue skies, a twinkling of frost, all was at peace with the world.

Meek and mild Valentino standing by his white chariot, busily scribbled names into the secret book of memories, oblivious of the turmoil that surrounded him. Eventually he would be lead to break his sacred New Year's resolution - NO SHIGGY:

Two great sages from a far land Tonto and Woody lead the Hash, meandering its way along a sheet ice road to the first of the perils to befall the unlucky, which is most of the Hash! Fergie, that once proud, handsome youth, now a shadow of his former self, beer sodden, broken spiritually and physically, disappeared under a torrent of mud, all that could be seen was a pair of purple legs sticking out of a murky pool.

Undaunted the Hash proceeded, offering prayers to the great Hash God, McDougall! "Are you... Are you...", mumbled replies of long lost hashers taunted their ears, "checking".

Valentino nimbly dodged and weaved through the trees and avoided the dark and sinister sloppy stuff that had just taken Fergie. Temptation lies in wait for the unwary. Stumbling on the trail in front of him was the once beautiful matriarch of the Hash formerly termed Grand Mattress, now reduced to T'Roper. She was once the toast of high society, but 150 runs has taken its toll and now she is reduced to seducing rugby teams. Strange passions aroused in Valentino, and a queer sensation spread through his body, a transformation was taking place. Nipping behind a nearby tree the transformation was complete, no longer Valentino but super hero Little Shit! - Strong on jaw, weak on brain.

Little Shit, knowing no danger, fearing no evil, swooped on the hapless T'Roper. A great fight of terrifying proportions ensued. Sploosh, Splash Wallop, Bonk, poor T'Roper.

In his modified form of muscles of steel and sinew like wire, Little Shit merrily jogged into the woods. The search for the evil McInnes had begun. The holder of 75 runs and a tyre repair business somewhere in Dyce, McInnes was worse than Superman for sneaking up from behind.

Is it a bird, is it a plane, no its Little Shit - Splat, "take that McInnes... Ahhhhh". A hush settled across the earth, Little Shit has been zapped!

McInnes slithered into the gloom.

Broken and twisted, Little Shit no longer, meek and mild Valentino, our hero limped into the wilderness and found the Temple of the Hash Beer, known as the Settlement. Alas it had already been discovered by that great explorer and S.C.B., Cruikshank, the beer had gone! Twenty minutes of searching produced a few empties, had the Dog Eater, Dad Dad to some, been on the prowl?

The search for the land of plenty was over, the beer was found, and a rejuvenated Valentino glided to the On Inn.

VALENTINO (Little Shit - Super Hero)

HASH GOSSIP

• Gill, who appears to have become 29 years of age during the run, is quoted as saying "My nick's are thro', its a good job I've got a spare pair". Steve was wearing them at the time.

• One of our merry band has also apparently chatted up 5 different women, in two days and been given the K.B. by all of them, except one. She shall remain nameless, so shall he, but she was a new runner and he sleeps with his mates mother!

• Question, are they or aren't they? Shiela and Stomper, tell us all!!

• Dad Dad has got a job with a Chinese Restaurant, but got caught this time before he could get the dog in the boot.

DOWN DOWN'S

• Pink Panther - for being Hash hangover of the week.

• Tyre Man - 75 runs and a quick stomach squeeze at the last gulp.

• Tonto and Woody for being hares - very good run!

• Fergie and Tonto swapped shirts and drank a down down with Alison.

• Hashit - T'Roper for being female and not for 150 runs.

Those who ran:

Anne WILLIAMS Hash Junky

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Adrian ATKINSON Aids

Fiona BICK Fifi

Jackie LITTLE

Bruce BRICKNELL Pigpen

Carol BUCHAN

John CRUICKSHANK Bentshaft

Raffaella CRUIKSHANK

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

Anne Marie TURION

David FERGUSON Fergie

Ian FORBES F lippy

Ross HALL Running Sore

Sarah INNES Pink Panther

Steve LEVER Labotomy

Tim LITTLE

Laura MAHADY The Body

John McINNES Michelin Man

Gill O'NEIL

Andy PATON Bald Eagle

Gerry POTTER The Envoy

Kent PRESTON Superman

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Dave ROBB Dad Dad

Ronnie ROBB Wild Local

Selwyn ROBERTS Rent-a-Brain

Theresa ROPER Mrs T

Alison SMITH Big Al

Alan TAILFORD

Richard THOMPSON Stomper

Sheila THOMSON

Phil TOWNSEND Tonto

Vanessa KING

Simon WIJKER

Mandy WOOD Ball Tweaker

Dave WOODMAN

Run No. 254,

Westburn Park.

3rd January 1988

This week’s fun road run started in Westburn Park promptly on Sunday, why the hell Ross was running round Hazlehead Park looking for flour, God only knows!

The run set off at such a hectic pace that it caused two early retirements (Caron and Alison), mainly due to an urgent desire to video some inane TV programme!

At least one hare showed up, or was Derek at Hazlehead too?

A nice gentle uphill climb carefully planned through hospital grounds, where cries of “ON-ON” caused several premature heart attacks, births and in the nurses quarters ejaculations!

The route was (considering who the cycling hare was) remarkably clean, though what mud was available was put to use by some. Little Shit was complaining about the cold (his 4 legged fur jacket not being with us this week). Also noticeable in their absence were Pink Panther and Aids, elopement or dirty weekend?

A memorable half way sherry, clooty dumpling, and mince pie stop, courtesy of Mrs. Robb. It was noticeable that some people ate and drank more than their fair share, but why was Ann Marie feeding clooty dumpling to a canine Hasher? Why anyone would want to stand near a Robb whilst he is holding a full fire extinguisher is beyond anyone’s 'ken! But those who did got a little wet.

And so it was on again, Dave Wood, International Mountain Biker, taking over the mountain bike to demonstrate falling off in Beachwood Ave! A clean second half run in, with the only hare giving the female backmarkers short cut directions, what was he hoping for?

Upon return to Westburn Park a small group of mature and sensible Hashers decided to give Little Shit a bath in the duck pond, however some other sods decided a bath for five would be cosier!

Then, bloody hell, T'Roper turned up with beer and mulled wine. Mr. Robb after successfully soaking a Rohan clad, broken armed, pisshead disguised as Pigpen then ceremoniously smashed the wine flask!

On Inn to the Northern Lounge (another bar we can't go back to!). As the down downs had to be done inside amongst innocent members of the public the song became a subdued recital. We also had to use a human (well almost) mop - Alan Tailford.

Downers were;

• Pigpen For getting pissed at his own party.

• 2 visitors For being visitors!

• Ross & Dave For running to the Hash (silly Ross ran to 2).

• T'Roper For turning up late, and still pissed, with the Hash Beer.

• Jackie Tim drank it (almost) for her.

• HASHIT For sleeping with the scribes mother, but getting kicked out when she found he'd sneaked into her bed! He also forgot the Hashit shirt that was awarded to him on his last run, this boy has got to learn, the name TAILFORD.

Mr. Braun.

Those who ran:

Trevor ANCELL Little Shit

Fiona BICK Fifi

Jackie LITTLE

Eric BROWN Catweazle

Mathew CROZIER

John CRUICKSHANK Bentshaft

Raffaella CRUIKSHANK

Ian FEGEN Numbskull

Anne Marie TURION

David FERGUSON Fergie

Valerie FERGUSON

Rita GRAHAM One Cell

Sarah INNES Pink Panther

Steve LEVER Labotomy

Tim LITTLE

Laura MAHADY The Body

John McINNES Michelin Man

Sujahna MEIER

Andy MOLLOY

Gill O'NEIL

Kent PRESTON Superman

Martin RICHMOND Sonic

Anne RICHMOND Thruppenny Bits

Jeanette ROBB

Ronnie ROBB Wild Local

Howard ROPER Hippo

Barbara SAHEI

Alison SMITH Big Al

Helen SMITH Wifie

Karen ANCELL Silly Cow

Alan TAILFORD

Dave TAYLOR

Derek TURNER Casual

Susanne WEIR

Dave WOOD S Splinter

Mandy WOOD Ball Tweaker