Aberdeen Hash House Harriers # 1399

Hare: Nipples

OnOn: Portlethen new road

One of those odd days when I didn't have a problem getting to the hash, but everyone else did. May be the gods had looked down on me and decided to gave me a rare few extra minutes to get onto the Stonehaven road before they closed it due to a tanker spillage. There was lots of grumbling and mumbling about having to take all sorts of ingenious routes to find the start of the run. Mad Cyclist had done the Kinkorth circuit, Pig Iron took the more sonic South Deeside road route. All confusing....

Getting there was the least of our problems, the hare had chosen a new section of road, not yet open to the public, new age travellers, gypsies, rag tatters or your average hash pack. Today's night watchmen get a Mondeo estate and mobile phones, no burning brazier and big dog with sharp nasty teeth!

Once the boss had been called and we allowed to stay put, the pack was called to order and of we went, sort of..... A big circle round the piece of road we were not supposed to be parked on! Ten barbed wire fences later we found the beer.

Back to the road we should have not been parking on for a quick circle!

Having consumed the best part of 3 cans of Belhaven Best in the space of an hour I needed a slight drain off and headed for the local public toilet (a smelly horrible place). A tree would have provided better scenery and fresher air space. , With the same idea in mind, Numskull occupied the stall next to me, turned and inquired: "How's it going?" Crisis!!!!!!

Now, male hashers don't need an explanation as to why this scenario was such a crisis, more stressful than getting hash shit or getting caught pulling one's duff. But, given that nothing divides the sexes more profoundly than our respective approaches to the lavatory (as our hashing psychologists would put it, "Harriett's' are far more social animals than men, exemplified by the fact they go to toilets in packs while men always go alone"), elaboration is probably necessary for the benefit of the Harriet.

And leaving aside the fact that conversing with our GM is a stressful business at any time, with the urge to minimise the chance of a faux pas by saying nothing clashing against the impulse to say something fantastically clever, the impulse to be slightly mocking, thereby demonstrating your confidence, and the impulse to suck up desperately, I would say there were, fundamentally, four elements to this agony:

(1) In doing what Numskull did, he had transgressed article 2.1 of The Hash Code of Harrier Toilet Etiquette, which states that "on entering a bathroom a harrier must always use the urinal furthest away from any other harrier already there". Admittedly, he had a challenge on this front in that there were only two urinals available in this particular toilet, but even Amazonian Indians who have never seen a modern toilet would instinctively know that, if this is the case, then one should use the cubicle instead. What was he thinking? Did he not understand that such behaviour is a major cause of paruresis, or "bashful bladder syndrome", which, according to the Interhashional Paruresis Association, based in Lower Pee Over, results in about 7per cent of the hashing population being unable to pee in public toilets?

(2) In doing what Numskull did, he had transgressed article 3.6 of The Hash Code of Harrier Toilet Etiquette, which states that "while standing at a urinal one must never, even in the event of a natural disaster, fire, or medical emergency, attempt to start a conversation". If you're very close mates, a brief "alright" is permissible, or perhaps, if you're very drunk, a passing remark about sport ("bloody West Brom") or your own inebriation ("God, totally hammered"). But an open-ended question like "how's it going?" is lunacy.

As an etiquette guide called The Alphabet of Manliness puts it: it is essential to "hold your peace while you hold your piece".

(3) In doing what Numskull did, he had transgressed article 4.7 of The Hash Code of Harrier Toilet Etiquette, which states that "one must never, even in the event of a natural disaster, fire or medical emergency, look at the bloke next to you". The permanence and seriousness of this rule was emphasised last year when a New Zealand court was told how one man punched another twice in the toilet of a bar because he dared to look at him. Which brings me to the main reason why this scenario was so mortifying...

(4) In spite of myself, before I yelped, froze, grunted a monosyllabic response, blushed, washed my hands, made a rapid exit and a mental note never to use an a public toilet again, I also found myself transgressing article 4.7 of The Hash Code of Harrier Toilet Etiquette, which states that "one must never, even in the event of a natural disaster, fire, or medical emergency, look at the bloke next to you".

In my defence, it was a stressful situation, an etiquette nightmare and I didn't know what I was doing.

Dumb struck I re-entered the post run outer circle to listen to the dulcet tones of Aids, interjected with the louder tones of Cana-b-arsed.

Downs downs to:

Aids for doing run in less than his age - 50 something minutes, but he could have taken up to 70 minutes and still been under!

Nipples for standing in as hare and not doing to bad a job!

Fill in the rest.... Can't remember!!!

OnOn

Scribe

Little Shit