Scribes 2005

Aberdeen Hash House Harriers

Run 1208.

Sun 06 Nov 2005.

3 Stanes, Banchory Stonehaven road.

Hare: Lights Out

Scribe: T-Rex Cock

CRAZED TERRORIST HASH GUNPOWDER PLOT OUTRAGE FOILED

Those of us that remembered the hash on the 6th of November turned up at 3 stanes, although the car park sign said “Fetteresso”, which interestingly is Doric for “filling station,” on a lovely autumn morning.  This rural rapture was cut short when a strange white-suited man of swarthy appearance and staring eyes attempt to drive his red foreign car, reg GUY 400F, into a bush in the middle of the hash circle.  I wondered whether he had only got lessons in driving his vehicle forwards, and not bothering with not bothered to get lessons in reversing.  Before any of us could stop him, the terrorist jogged across to an unsuspecting tree and planted, after several attempts, his explosive device.  Fortunately for us, the device malfunctioned, and the charge blew in the opposite direction.  No-one was hurt, apart from a pain in the in the eardrums for the rest of the hash (or was this due to listening to the GM?), and the lady hasher I threw myself over in order to protect her from the impending blast, was duly grateful.  As the smoke cleared we recognised the dirt-besmiched madman as none other but our beloved colleague Numbskull, who seemed to be rebelling about his forced labour as a safety engineer in a women’s’ prison factory.  Poor soul, there but for the grace of God …

This flirtation with doom, an intimation of hashing mortality, shocked me into thinking about other hashers throughout the world, who were, at that very moment suffering homelessness due to earthquakes or hurricanes, or having their hashing activities tragically cut short due to bunions or tertiary syphilis.  The latter predicament was brought to mind by the sight of poor Little Shit’s lunchbox with an alarmingly distended organ – but which actually turned out to be a little gift Littleshit was giving The Body to celebrate her 350th run.  Quite rightly, she wouldn’t put her lips anywhere near it, arguing that a quaiche that had intimate contact with the bacteria, fungus and bodily excretions attached to the aforementioned lunchbox, would need 18 month’s immersion in superstength Domestos to take the taste away.

The eleventh hour.  Lights Out appears, bringing his favourite bucket for a run out – not as friendly as Mad Cyclist’s puppy, but probably more efficient in marking trails.

The run set off, and everyone cast their eyes upwards, not for inspiration, but because we all knew we would soon be traipsing up the hill. [An inadvertent consequence of this was that we ran through all the muddy puddles on the trail.] But, in a cunning move, almost as cunning a Cannae be Arsed avoiding a falsie, Lights Out had set a double check back near the top of the hill, sending the pack back, not just to the last check, but to the check at the bottom of the hill.  Scientific aside: the energy expended unnecessarily by the pack of hashers jogging 133 feet up the 1:7.5 gradient hill was equivalent to the calorific content of 272 pints of Olde Dogear much admired at the CAMRA beer festival on Thursday (or, if you must, 1456 pints of Tesco’s near-alcohol lager-free lager supplied by Hash Beer to the AH3 down-downs.)  I was chuckling at this shock to collective hash knowledge, until later … I consulted The Penguin’s copy of the Boys’ Bumper Volume of Hash Lore & Etiquette (1878 edition).  This invaluable and insufferable tome (the book, not The Penguin) offers the following advice:

“Verily, it shalle cume to passe, that whomsoever shalle treacherously sette ye double check-back on ye trayle, shall be an abomination in ye syghte of ye hashe, and shalle indead suffer ye moste seveer crewelties, and indignities that ye hash-meister (who’s name be praised) shall desyre to inflyct on that loathsome and deviant hare.  He shalle bear hys bodye to ye wrathe of hys fellowe hashyres, and be caste owt to be an uncleane thyng untyille ye nexte runne.”

This sounds like a hashit to me!  Strangely enough, the hashit was awarded later in the circle, but not to the miscreant Lights Out, but to our beloved hash-master, Farmer, admittedly for the unforgivable crime of wearing tartan underpants to the hash.  Hmm, the failure to humiliate the hare on the least pretext is a worrying development.  As a former Hash Grand Lady told me only just last week, a hash humiliation is like a blow job – you either swallow it or it comes back to hit you in the eye.  Still, it’s just as well we aren’t all built the same, as I often reassure Olymprick, when he happens to be in a philosophical bent.  [By the way, November 13 happens to be Be-Nice-to Hash-Grand Ladies day – observe, but don’t expect a blow job in return!]

Meanwhile, after the “hill double-check” debacle, the trail now lead through pleasant, gently sloping trails with good running, the delayed effects of the explosion started to appear.  I could have sworn that the hashers around me were assuming the forms of their hash handles.  Following The Body even more interesting than usual.  The Penguin couldn’t wander off trail, but JC was taking an interesting short cut.  Cinders looked off colour, but not as much as Little Shit.  Hillary looked quite attractive, but Threadbare didn’t seem any different.  Scary.  Just as well One Foot was absent.  It was also good that the Count Sans’O’ was missing. {This statement is mandatory for all future write-ups. Ed} He must still be being chased by the irate farmer he upset last week.  [And no, it wasn’t because he got his daughter pregnant – see last week’s write-up.]  Taking on the persona of your hash handle might explain what otherwise looks strange on the hash: why Goat Wrestler can’t run around a flock of sheep; why tyrannosaurus rex [mature adult male incarnation] can’t run quickly up a hill; why Trouser Shredder couldn’t keep her job in the Stonehaven Seamen’s Laundry. 

Your correspondent, horn in hand, briefly led the pack down a cunningly-placed back check trail down a slippery hill, but was soon overtaken by a rampant Wotzoff (well either rampant, or he couldn’t get a footgrip in the mud  to slow him down).  The next checks were obviously right and left – but turned out to be left and right, and the one after that was an obvious left, that I ignored, and by the time I got to the sweetie check, I discovered I was at the back of the pack, rather than the front.  Conversations are always more interesting at the back of the pack anyway (and not as rude as the girly chat from the walkie-talkies either) And, I did discover that one of the harriettes is only a garage man’s daughter, but she let the borough survey her.

There was no hare around to arrow the unmarked checks that followed, but Stainless had info from last week’s Mearns run she’d set over the same terrain.  Not having to rely on Lights Out not spilling his bucket of flour, I could relax and glimpse pleasant views of streams and greenery, but was brought up short by running into Farmer et al wandering back from the beer check.  But plenty of beer left, and a downhill stroll brought us back to the cars refreshed, happy and only slight mud-spattered.

I was a bit wary in the circle, half expecting another attack from Numbskull, and so missed the significance of the obscure Motown tune the RA got a loon to croon – it ended too soon, and didn’t rhyme with November.  So Lights Out’s sterling haring performance ended with his bucket being used for the purpose nature intended.  A fitting end to the hash on the saint’s day of St. Felix, the patron saint of flour arranging.

Ah! I’ve just realised.  Numbskull thought it was Guy Fawkes’ day!!!

Pip! Pip!

T.Rex Cock.

Those that attended:

Threadbare, Goat Wrestler, Harley, Aids, Cinders, Wotzoff, Tiger Feet, The Body, T-Rex Cock, Thrupneybits, Little Shit, The Penguin, Lights Out, JC, Fifi, Cannae’B’arsed, Trouser Shreddere, Pigiron, Stainless, O;ymprick, Farmer, Nae Niickers, Pussy Taster, Numbskull, Whinger, Mad Cyclist.

Run 1197

Monday 22nd July

set by Sans O and Chockocock

Hares Sans O and Chockocock took the Hash to Milton of Crathes promising a 'special treat', this encouraged a few visitors from Vienna, Australia and Stonehaven to join in. Before setting off Sans O thoughtfully enquired if there were any walkie talkies as he had a map that would show them the way - stating the obvious!

The Hash started with a dramatic river crossing - especially for those with short legs. Although a rope had been provided to help with the crossing it wasn't actually tied to anything! The first person for a ducking in the river was Little Shit who then coaxed others to join him. One-Liner chivalrously carried his daughter over while others shouted 'encouragement' from the bank. After that slow start we were off - well for about 30 seconds - when we had to cross the first of many barbed wire fences. At least this kept most of the pack together much to Sans O's delight who could be heard shouting instructions to his co-hare - slow down, speed up, no, no slow down - courageous girl.

Finally at the beer stop on a scenic bridge somewhere in Crathes, the beer was found under the bridge unfortunately so were a couple of beer guzzling trolls aka Olymprick and Wotzoff.

Before the down-downs Silver Fox gave us the hard sell on Australia something about votes and Interhash but he wasn't going to convince us that Australia would be a great place to go hashing as we stood in the pouring rain with our damp bbqs and the midges.

Downs-downs went to –

• Silver Fox for revealing information about Pink Panthers bodily functions.

• One liner for his stock of anti-wrinkle cream at bargain prices.

• Goat Wrestler as Hash Crash.

• Chockocock for soaking the GM's tootsies with beer.

• And The Hares for a marvellous run.

On On Plonker

The Mean Streets of Aberdeen Run Number 1195

Tales Told by Stainless (edited by Pigiron)

Hares Little Shit, Aids and Cinders (not necessarily in that order)

Duthie Park drenched in sunshine (honest) was the short-notice venue this week. It seems that Penguin arrived first since who else would park as close as possible to the kiddies' playground? In brave defiance of the notices banning the consumption of alcohol in the park, the hash gathered in a guilty circle in a dark corner for the pre-run down which went to the Garden Gnome once known as Olymprick. I was outrageously bullied into horning and writing this drivel, so you only have Farmer to blame. As the GM never follows the run one supposes this to be the only way he gets to know about it.

Little Shit introduced the run interrupted as inappropriate by Cinders, whose paramour Aids was away doing harey things somewhere. The master stroke was mentioning the beach, a transparent falsehood detected by all but Penguin and Olymprick who set off eastward and were seen no more. The rest of the pack, lacking their special knowledge, just boringly followed trail over the George VI Bridge and on to the delights of Kincorth, the original Blackboard Jungle. Nothing to report except two teenage girls asking about the hash and, worse, asking how to join. Little Shit, not one to give up hope just because he is over the hill, stopped to explain all and the potential recruits promptly changed their minds.

Eventually after much pointless wandering about some of the pack made it to Aid's allotment set in the verdant pastures of South Anderson Drive for the beer stop. No sweeties here, oh no, only freshly picked organic peas and the odd courgette to accompany the drinks. At least that is what the hash assumed when they emulated a locust swarm. I am pleased to report that Harley and Farmer have reverted to type and shortcutted shamelessly missing the beer stop and arriving far too early back at Duthie Park.

DOWNS:

• Lost Souls Penguin and Olymprick for entering a radioactive zone,

• Stiffy for having a blonde moment on the A-B run and asking how often annual events take place,

• Visitor: Skinhead from Jakarta Hash,

• Naming of Jules on completing 5 runs who will now answer to YAK YAK (shurely an animal in Nepal? Ed)

• Hash Groupie for Pisspoor who went straight to the pub and did not even try to pretend to hash,

• Yellow Jersey awarded to Old Crock Sir as the leading (only) cyclist on this stage,

• New shoes for One Liner suitably christened. He seemed to enjoy the crunchy bits at the bottom.

• T-rex given a free drink by Canna be Arsed to accompany his plastered shoes,

• And the Hares, and the hares....Aids, Cinders and Little Shit.

Run 1192

Hare Wotzoff

Cul de Sac @ Loirston Loch.

Or: Wee Ronnie’s 60th birthday run

A substantial pack of hashers gathered around Loirston Loch for run 1192 on a coldish evening. Even a few novices to Aberdeen hash participated in this glorious event, welcome new runners.

There obviously was a pre-run down down for some obscure hasher who managed to get entangled in all sorts of mischief unfortunately I forgot who, more of that later.

After firm instructions from the hare the crowd stumbled off along country lanes and a lochside where already the first scattering of the pack occurred. Plenty checks during the run and always diverting in the direction least expected, so well set in that respect

From the loch onwards the trail took us up a hill and around and back the way we started .., causing a severe bit of confusion we then virtually passed the car park where some decided enough is enough, however the persistent ones carried on across the A90 and uphill to enter some beautiful scenic woods and after a long loop over a stone wall and some boggie sections it was back across the road to finally reach the long looked for beer check in a derelict house. It was then a short stretch back to the cars were the diverted hashers were awaiting the bbq to be lit.

Sans'O volunteered again but this time round very few enthusiast supported him (good idea given that it started to poor down at the end of the circle. Several down downs awarded amongst them the new runners and others, never took notes though and have forgotten by now.

Talking about the circle , most memorable event is no doubt the 4 wheeled zimmer frame extravaganza performed by wee Ronnie alias Penguin as a suitable birthday tribute , he was then awarded a down down for his jollie performance (please note it was not a real whisky one rest assured) and even presented with a nice bottle of dram.

Disappointment could be seen on birthday boys face when he discovered the carton only contained rocks and a miniature but post run he was presented with a bottle of the real stuff to make up.

All in all a good run and a few good laughs were had by all.

Run no 1190

Monday 11th July 2005

Hares: Lifeboats and Coxsin

If you want a complete rerun of the run then this is not the place to seek it, as I did a shorter loop and only met the pack at the beer check! We assembled in the car park at Kirkton of Durris Hall, to be asked if we knew that Sans O had insisted that we have a BBQ afterwards, did we read the email, and had we brought food? Most of us hadn't, but Sans O was unperturbed and commissioned Harley - the well-known short-cutter- to fetch more food before he went off for dinner at home!

The first loop went off towards the river, whilst the walkers set off in the opposite direction. There were 2 loops, a 2hour to set one for the runners, and a l hour to set for the runners, which was wholly within the larger loop. The weather was great, again, and the nettles were prolific, as were the midges.

We had 2 virgins -new ladies who had never hashed with us, and one was especially useful as she attracted all the midges at the checks, but that did not deter her, and she seemed to thoroughly enjoy the run.

The walkers trail was all on good paths, with a short stretch on the road, and our only hazard was pheasants which kept erupting from cover as we went past. Lifeboats was very worried about the farmer, and went very quiet as a Landrover approached slowly, however this proved to be a friend who has land nearby.

The walkers and runners arrived at the beer/sweetie check together, a nice location by the river, and then it was a short run back to the cars.

Downdowns went to:

• One of the virgins for attracting all the midges

• One Foot for asking "How do you know it's this way" when on flour

• Virgins and a visitor from Germany, who has now moved to Aberdeen, so we hope to see him again

• Birthday Boy Goat Wrestler

• Tonto for bringing out a 4 foot hooker and sharing with all left after most had left the on inn last week...........................on reflection, maybe that was a 4ft hookah

• And the hares for a very enjoyable run.

ABERDEEN HASH HOUSE HARRIERS

RUN NO. 1189

04 JULY 2005

AMERICAN INDEPENENCE DAY

CHEZ EAST WOODLANDS

HARE TONTO

Where is the justice? I stand up for the women of the hash to give them a chance of equality in this unfair world by suggesting that they be allowed to scribe and somehow or other this gets interpreted to mean that I am scribe - again. But who cares?

Great run Tonto! Bought the flour on his own. Laid the trail on his own. Set up the BBQ on his own. Bought the meat and buns on his own. Prepared the salad on his own. Acted car park attendant on his own. His family had up and off'ed to the US of A and left him with a twelve page document in his wife's handwriting entitled Duties for Phil. But who cares?

Considering Numbscull set a trail in the same area last week using white flour it was a good idea to lay the run this week also with white flour. Really confused some of the people some of the time especially Harley who ran the other half of the run that he did not run last week. Must get a bit lonely at times that guy. But who cares?

It was about two thirds of the way round that the hard crispy hashers who never run back ran forward never again to see flour - nor beer. But who cares?

In the circle YWHMH Farmer stood in the clearly delineated spot and spouted forth his usual load of rubbish welcoming visitors Simon (son of Bin Liner) Guillume, Taraq, Jeremy from Nigeria, Algeria and Angola and David (Lone Ranger) from Guildford and Oil Industry Hashes. The first four reduced the average age of the pack by about 20 years but Lone Ranger looked more normal. But who cares?

Talking of sons, David (son of Mad Cyclist) passed his power boat driving test this week which we assume is to avoid the danger of sailing with his father. I'd be scared too because Mad Cyclist has been spotted at the airport with a huge sign looking for a MAN. Where else does he go looking? But who cares?

Little Shit decided to bring in our own International G8 representatives but as is to be expected he got a bit confused and ended up with G10 drinkers. For his effort and for authorising two successive runs in the same area he was duly asked to don the Hashit Shirt. But who cares?

Sartorial elegance went to Sans O for turning up in an Oxbridge striped blazer which he seemed to think made him look like a yank. But who cares?

I did not stay for the BBQ but went home to enjoy a tomato sandwich while watching "Slaughterhouses” on BBC 2 which would put you off eating meat for the rest of your life. Sickening!!

It was remiss of the hash not to congratulate Trouser Shredder, More Butt and The Penguin for completing the Stonehaven Half Marathon yesterday - in Stonehaven! But who cares?

After a long night of making love, he notices a photo of another man on her bedside table. He begins to worry. "Is this your husband?" he nervously asks. "No, silly," she replies, snuggling up to him. "Your boyfriend, then?" he continues. "No, not at all," she says, nibbling away at his ear. "Is it your dad or your brother?" he inquires, hoping to be reassured. "No, no, no!!!" she answers. "Well, who in the hell is he, then?" he demands. "That's me before the surgery.

The Penguin

Run: 1188

Hare: Numskull

On On: Aker's rear car park, Dyce

On Inn: Bucksburn Manor

Another fine summer evening and the small crowd of regular hashers was gathering ready for the nights run. We knew things were starting to go wrong when we saw Numskull on his phone trying to tell security where there were a number of unauthorized vehicles on the grounds. We all hoped they didn't have enough wheel clamps to go round.

I was promptly nominated scribe horn for not having done one for a while and for committing the offence of failing to arrive with £2. for Harley.

Pre-Run Down-Downs...

• Cannae Be Arsed for getting a fetching green 200 run sweatshirt

• Penguin was brought in as a Guest GM for a pre-run down-down. It was later explained to me that Farmer & Penguin were both at an Indo Nostalgia gathering in Yorkshire where Farmer was made Guest GM by Penguin!

• Little Shit tried unsuccessfully to nominate the 1188 as the 2nd worst run of the year (since Numskull has already set one run)

Over a small footbridge we headed (cross at Own risk the sign said?) and up the hill to a roadway and our first check. Everyone went straight ahead but I picked up flour to the right on the road so honked my way after it all on my own. Three spots then I lost the trail and as nobody had followed I thought I must be wrong so ran a quarter mile back to the check and then proceeded up the hill in the general direction of some calling... only to be met by the whole pack returning after completing a loop round the quarry! Unfortunately for me I was actually not that far off the mark as I had to run the same quarter mile for the third time as the trail in deed went to the right.

As we headed towards Overton car dismantlers I could see there was a problem.... Very little flour had been laid and virtually none of it was remaining on the road side. Outside Overton Numskull caught us up on his bike and was telling us to "check it out”. “Check out what” I said. “Oh the check was here” Numskull replied “but I forgot the flour”.

We then got up into the woods and after a few checks, some stampeding cattle and another check I picked up some fresh well laid flour so myself and one other (the new runner in the green shirt) followed this for a full half mile down hill until we almost got back to the cars - which was enough to tell us we had run onto the out-trail. The price was 10 minutes of ball breaking running to catch up with the pack again.

The next 2 or three miles improved then we broke out the woods and up to the stone circle for the Beer stop. Numskull has put the beers into his freezer to chill them but left them in an hour too long. Stella Slush Puppy was the result but still refreshing after that run.

Finally I got to cover the out trail for the third time as we returned to the car park! The joys of Hashing.....

Post-Run Down-downs...

• Nurses One Foot & Struth for neglect of the GM on Run. Farmer has acquired cuts on his legs but the Hariette nurses refused to offer assistance on the run. In the circle, they eventually obliged by pouring some beer over Farmers legs but refused his requests for them to lick it back off!

• We were advised by Cannae be Arsed that wild animals such as Wolves and Bison were now being released onto some areas to prevent the public (or Hashers) getting about freely. No such wild beasts are needed here..... Down downs went to the Lesser Spotted Bafoon Numskull and the Badger Chasing Tonto for getting stuck behind a deer fence.

• Bruce Almighty got his down-down for fact (and it is a fact) that Little Shlt was heard calling him the Fat Bastard in the Yellow Shirt. Don't ask why Little Shit was not given the down-down?

• Trouser Shredder was gobsmacked at the weekend not for completing the Ythan Challenge but for being announced as a Veteran!

• And finally our Hare Numskull.

On On Mad Cyclist

Elrick Hill Run: 1186

Hare: Little Sh*t

A good turn out for a wet day but only 3 hashers from the Skye weekend made it to tonight's run -- the other 20+ wooses failed to show, still recovering from a feast of hills, boating, wine, beer, food aplenty, fun & frolic's. It may be weeks before the kid's faces are clear of soot from Sans'O's bonfire and will we ever hear the end of tales from Farmer & Rock It's "In Pin” triumph. Too many stories to tell here & now, so please view the photos for a wee story of a fab weekend and thanks to Nae Knickers for organising it all.

Anyhoos, pre-run down-down went to Penguin but I can't remember why – perhaps something to do with defamation of Olymprick's character is that possible?).

It was Little Sh*t's second haring, 2 days in a row – hero!? Nah, our wee hero laid it after haring yesterdays run in the rain, watched as the rain washed it all away and therefore had to lead the pack most of the way, blaming innocent animals for eating the flour! We were all convinced it was heading straight up the wooden stairs up the hill, but noo000000, off to the right we were sent, through the rhododendrons and almost through some innocent civilian’s front door till the hare called us up the blooming hill where we all thought it was going in the first place!

Still no flour and the pied piper led us up, round, over and round again to a check. Off we all went, all over the place, till way off in the distance, “on on on on" we hear – whoomph, we were off again (well maybe not quite that fast).

Some excellent shiggy piles were enjoyed throughout this slippery feast of a run. Clever checks and animal eaten flour kept the pack together and Whitetrash front running several times! The lesser-spotted Farmer & Harley were caught out short cutting as usual along with Stainless and a few others who blamed Penguin for leading them astray. Cannae Be Arsed & Wotzoff appeared to run parallel to us most of the time but still claimed to be on flour! Maybe that's why we were not!

Struth appeared towards the end of the run at the bottom of the second hill. I didnae think my wee sore leggies would make it up yet another hill but the knowledge that the beer check awaited my attention at the top was encouragement enough and off we went, only to discover The Penguin, Farmer & Harley, hiding it in the gorse bushes on top of Brimmond Hill. The fact it was the middle of June, did not prevent the threat of snow on this glorious summers day - in other words it was bollocking freezing and time to head back to the cars. Over the stile (where Wotzoff regaled tales of broken bits on said stile in days gone by), down the hill, through the gorse bushes, frightening a few moo coo's and more excellent shiggy brought us back to the cars.

Our GM bored us all stupid listing AH3's status at various recent events: contingent at Phuket 1001+2, Tin Men, Carbost H3's Run #1 etc etc yawn zzzzzzzzz

Down Downs:

• Whitetrash: something to do with KKK and tuperware in Oklahoma, the unwashed and pink undies! Hmmmmmm

• Shirley Valentine & Struth: for always being late, lost and groupies.

• Passed back to Cannae Be Arsed to award the next down down to:

• Farmer: Not for finally achieving success on the Inaccessible Pinnacle in the Cuillins but for being a total wanker and referring to it as the “In Pin” yah yah what!

•  Little Sh*t: For a great run, even though the animals ate most of it.

On On. Trouser Shredder

Run No. 1184

From Peterculter

6TH June 2005

Hare: Drillbit

A warm welcome was given to Michael Pyszka and Ruitees the visiting hashers. The virgin hashers Ailsa Wildgoose and Alison Weir were also made welcome. Pre-run down down went to Bruce Almighty, who was awarded his 10th run T-shirt.

Nice weather conditions on the Monday evening brought out about 50 enthusiastic runners. They sped off down the track at a fast pace, crossing the road and into the countryside. The runners thundered through the forest, waded across the river and clambered up the muddy riverbank.

On on went the hash through the caravan park, along the road and through the trees to the beer check, which had a beautiful view overlooking a quarry. Unfortunately, I fell behind and did not reach the beer check but walked along the road with trainers squelching and squeaking.

The hash finished the run and heartily congratulated the hare for setting a splendid run.

At the barbeque Drillbit provided, delicious burgers, spare ribs and sausages etc. they were served piping hot in his back garden. These culinary delights were thoroughly enjoyed by all the runners.

Down Downs

• First down down went to Shirley Valentine for being late back.

• The virgin hashers Ailsa Wildgoose and Alison Weir for returning.

• Visitors Michael Pyszka from Germany and Ruitees from Edinburgh.

• Mad Cyclist for getting lost on the way, having his flies open and being a danger to hash cars by throwing a beer can up in the air.

• Singgit for wearing a smart suit.

• Sans O and Orietta for not remember their 5th wedding anniversary (usually the husband forgets the anniversary rather than the wife).

• The hare Drillbit for being a man of taste using self raising flour and setting a splendid run.

The Orienteer

RUN 1183 FETTERCAIRN DISTILLERY

HARE: Shirley Valentine

SCRIBE: PIGIRON

CLASSIC GIBBONS GIBBERISH at FETTERCAIRN

Justice thou hath fled to brutish beasts and men have lost their reason. I was only trying to protect my luvverly wife who had tragically lost her voice and didn't know where to find it when I was set upon by a large Dutchman and given this job, for which I am manifestly unqualified. However, incompetence has never held me back in the past, so here's the story of my walk in the park (note clever reference to the Derby-ed).

Beneath lowering skies outside the Fettercairn Distillery the hare, Shirley Valentine (for it was she), apologised for the lack of flour, blaming bad juju for sending rain to a place where it rarely, if ever, rains. She muttered something about a shorter trail and re-setting it in her nightie at 0600 hrs but I didn't pay much heed, not intending to let myself be hidebound by pettifogging restrictions anyway. Penguin then announced that the distillery was open for a look-see, but neglected to get the key to the spirit safes, so we had to go hashing instead. The runners went one way, and the camp followers another, taking their children born and unborn in gaggle of noise around the stately grounds of Fasque and Fettercairn Estates.

The walk was absolutely delightful, so nice to be able to hobnob at Fasque House with one's social equals. The ducks (Mallards) on the wee loch were delightful too, unlike Bruce Almighty who was found wandering lonely as a cloud complaining of unfortunate knees. He spent the rest of the trip bashing my ear about rhododendrons and their effect on the soil, remarking on the beech avenue and bemoaning lightning strikes. So severe was the constant prattle that the appearance of the FRBs close to the beer stop came as an unusually welcome relief. Oh yes, and a bird crapped on my hi-tech jacket.

The circle: First down to the hare in a desperate act of self-abuse since the RA couldn't think of anyone to hunt down. It was difficult to hear her anyway over the sound of phone calls from her anxious hubby trying to learn how to light a gas barbecue at Schloss Gillespie. Suddenly Cinders enters stage right to accuse someone in authority of giving the wrong map reference and leading her astray (I don't think so). There followed an appalling display of pass the parcel reminiscent of an Aberdeen Council meeting with claim and counterclaim ending up for some mysterious reason with JC getting the drink. The deviants were identified as Little Shit for taking pictures of children (in contravention of the ASBO), Harley for not getting lost (can this be right? -ed) and Aids for being unable to read maps (he probably can't reverse a car either). Aids got another drink for being pathetic and using up 14 boxes of tissues just because he had a coldy-woldy in his nosey-wosy. Actually, I think his caring wife should have got one for being so tight as to count the boxes. Maybe he paid for them with his pocket money. Luckily the beer for the downs was the usual superb quality so no hardship.

On On then to another leafy part of Angus where Shirley Valentine and Sir had prepared a barbecue in their immaculate garden, maintained no doubt by an army of underpaid retainers. The drizzle was relentless but failed to detract from the enjoyment for the hash who just love standing around getting pissed in the rain and being moaned at by their spouses for not having a nice garden as well. A hearty vote of thanks to the hosts is in order. They just won't get it.

On On

Run Number 1181

Hares: Mad Cyclist / T-Rex Cox (working away so missing the run) Cottown, by Kintore, was the meeting place for a small huddle of only 20 hashers for this Monday's run. With no GM or RA in sight, Harley was "acting boss" for the night... and enjoyed using his new found power to appoint me scribe for the first time in ages!!

A pre-run down down was awarded to Little Shit for his 777th run ... along with an intriguing "gift in a box" ... can you guess? ... a nifty little jet !!

Then we were off to the sound of the horn?? .. What horn?!?! I cannot believe I am your hash scribe, and didn't even have the pleasure of "hooting" all the way round the trail ... would have been so much fun ☺ (where is the bloody thing anyways ?!?!?)

It was what I would describe as a "ball breaker" ... as we ran through forest, wet and muddy bogs, hills of prickles, along country lanes, under low trees and, (for the more sensible of us), around the top of a quarry ... for the rest of them, down into the quarry, a wade through water, and out and up the other side!! ... But a special mention has to be made here for "the loan sweetie monster”!!! ... as Little Shit was spotted with a big grin on his face, sitting on a lonely "wee island" inside the quarry with a big, big bag of sweeties !! He did try to tempt us down from the top of the quarry, but we reckoned he'd have "scampered with the goods" before we got there.. So back on to trail we headed!!

On and on and on we went ... through more bog and stingy nettles, until we eventually spotted the beer in the forest and a late arrival who'd somehow caught us up ... White Trash!! ... And then the tooth crunching opening of the beer bottle tops ensued, as our "intelligent"? hashers struggled in vain to find the beer opener lying in the bottom of the beer bag !!! ... (took a harriet back at the circle to point it out to them !!) ... but where were Cinders and Harley ?? see below for answers !!

Down downs were awarded to:

The returners - Muff Diver for his 5th run & Bruce Almighty for his 7th run

Cinders - for leading Harley astray. (Whilst we all enjoyed a Monday evening "ball breaker" in the forest, Cinders took Harley for a "nite oot" in and around Kemnay!!)... hiccup!

The Hares - Mad Cyclist & T-Rex Cock. Good run, varying terraine & managed to keep the pack fairly much together & lost no one !! (phew...makes a change for me on his runs !)

ON ON Lifeboats ©

16th May 2005

RUN 1180

Hares: Stainless & Pig Iron

Scribe: Sergio

Location: Scolty Hill

1180 - It couldn't possibly be as cold as last week - could it??

Another bleeding Baltic Monday evening somewhere in deepest Aberdeenshire. I followed Penguin into the car park and noticed a goodly band of hashers pulling on hats and fleeces and beating their hands together to ward off the cold. There was another group of female runners there too - unfortunately we couldn't get them to join us although we could see that they wanted to.........

It was nice to welcome back one or two returners - Johnny Foreigner and The Orienteer, and a sprinkling of visitors (all the way from Oz) and virgins.

Yours truly was awarded the HORN for the week after complaining that a number of scribes were missing - well here's my effort and that gives me the right to complain about all you SLACKERS that don't do it!!

The hares, Pig Iron and Stainless promised us a shortish run set with blobs in the form of an 'H', and for some unexplained reason we needed 5 of them to be "on". And with that we were on our way, up what has been the in trail on the last few runs in this area. 100 yards from the start Penguin veers off to the right to have a pee. 600 runs (and old age) don't come alone! I followed first Harley and then Little Shit up to the first check. We all went left - and of course it went right! Wrong!!

Well, we didn't gain too much height - we took a sort of north westerly direction around the hill which made a nice change. When I say 'we' I mean 'most of us' but more of that later. I found myself in the lead with Farmer at one point, the trail took us off the track and into the woods where I went over on my ankle, then found that the flour went straight back to the track. Bastards!

Some downhill then a check at a T junction. Lifeboats went left, the rest of us went right. Five minutes later we were still searching. Lifeboats returned, saying those ahead of her hadn't returned although there was no flour. Farmer and I tried to convince Struth and Piss Poor it was a 'harriets' check but they weren't budging. Struth started explaining to me the differences between slappers and tarts but before she could finish (or more probably before she could get to her narrative proper) the trail was called ON and ON we went.

Past some houses and down to the banks of the bonnie Dee, along the riverside we went. Along the riverside some more. And some more. Vision blurred by pain and thirst I was overtaken by Goat Wrestler - or was it Bin Liner???? Someone ahead, Canna Be Arsed, shouted "On beer" but no-one stopped running. On we went. More on. It was a long straight section, OK?

But finally come to the beer we did! Well, those of us still following flour. And sweeties too! Much needed. There were lots to go round too - apparently some hounds had made a beeline straight for the summit of Scolty Hill. Sorry lads, nothing for you there. Ho ho ho.

It was a much needed chance to regroup and slake our collective thirst. Hare Stainless pointed us in the direction of home and fortunately it wasn't far. My envy levels were approaching maximum listening to Olymprick and Farmer planning their upcoming visit to Phuket and Chiang Mai.

No sign of Harley or Hillary or their cars when we got back. They, amongst others had found that there was no beer atop Scolty and returned empty handed. Too cold to wait for the pack they had buggered off home! No doubt Johnny Foreigner would have done the same - but he had scrounged a lift so he HAD to wait!!!

The usual down-downs were handed out. Visitors, hares, that sort of thing. And - the most deserved one of the lot went to Sans O for telling us all that we should have a barbeque - and for bringing along his little disposable one, even though the temperature was struggling to stay above zero!

Fortunately the folks at Scott Skinners were a little more accommodating than they had been last week and the sensible amongst us went and had a feed there!

Roll on summertime!!

ON ON, SERG

Run 1179

9 May 2005

On On: Near 9 Stones

Hares: White Trash and Peng

Scribe:One Liner

PENGUIN MISSES PENG'S WINGS

True to form, just a teensy weensy bit late following a day on the phone, 6.55 ish saw us weaving a people carrier full of little people up the back road to 9 Stones at a speed slightly in excess of maximum comfort for recently filled juvenile stomachs.

However, multiple projectile vomiting was avoided , so we unloaded without fuss to find that it was indeed about to rain following upon half an hour of “will it or won't it” discussion on the way there.

Pre run entertainment for my small clutch of newbies was to see The Penguin awarded his 600 Run Back-pack and Sweatshirt, with added down-down. Worth coming for that alone Ron. Well done to a true international ambassador of AH3 who is also a stalwart at home.

Moving swiftly on as they say, and with small newcomers appropriately introduced, a true Hash dilemma rapidly ensued. Awarded the Hash Horn on my first Monday Hash for quite some time, etiquette of course demanded that I run with the pack, leading from the front and sounding the way forward for those less athletically inclined than my goodself on the night. HOWEVER other etiquette demanded that I do not abandon 3 brand new and very small Hashers to their fate on their first ever run, especially if I ever want to have civil conversation with the biggest one again. Dilemma solved, boys.

Handing the Horn to Matthew and asking him not to annoy the rest of the Walkie Talkies with it was a bit like asking George Best into a pub and telling him not to harm his liver. All and any claims for hearing damage to Peng, Thruppennies or Fi-fi will be strenuously denied unless and until my insurers tell me that the game is well and truly up.

I have absolutely no fucking idea where the pack went after we all crossed the road, just beyond the 9 Stones themselves, but I think that it may well have been “far, far away somewhere over there” judging by the shite state of many of the fine athletes who veritably sprinted up to White Trash's giant 4 wheel drive people killer in search of Peng's usual feast of wings etc at the beer check.

Thank you Peng. Absolutely delicious as usual. Sorry Penguin, what's that? I didn't quite hear you. Oh I see: “All right for all you clever bastards who took the hint and followed flour. 600 runs in and I still haven't got the hang of this trail thingy. If someone had told me I was actually supposed to follow it then I maybe wouldn't have looked quite so forlorn approaching the ravenous, feasting pack from 180 degrees in the wrong direction. Bastards never even saved me a wish bone".

Never mind Ron at least you got another honourable mention at the down downs.

Back at the frozen circle where Eskimos could have cut a hole to fish, down downs were awarded to:

• Penguin: 600 runs and services to grateful RA's the world over.

• Myself: No Horn.

• Sergio: Toasting the newlyweds with food at Mandy and Hub's wedding celebration.

• Careless: Following Penguin off trail to miss Peng's Wings.

• White Trash and Peng : Great Hares. Well Laid: Claiming to have knocked 6 minutes off back to back 10k runs while failing to inform his audience of admirers that his slow time was up a mountain while his fast time was down a bob-sleigh run - or something like that.

• Stainless: Got pissed and entertained crowd at Sonic and Thruppenies place. Allegedly.

On On. One Liner.

Run 1177 - Sunday 24th April 2005

St Georges Day

Hares 'Farmer' & 'Harley'

This was to be another of the hares' infamous 'A to B' runs - Anywhere' to 'Bloody somewhere else a f*****g long way away from where we started....'

It started well enough - a quick grope of 'Thruppeny Bits' until she was in the throes of ecstasy to such an extent that she couldn't take anymore and had to get up to make me a cup of tea followed by a cooked breakfast - result!

Drag the kids kicking and screaming into the car and off to Banchory to meet the Saga holiday crowd who had arrived in the bus, decamp to said bus and off to A - which was not Clach na Ben' though why Thruppeny Bits would believe the hares, who had suggested that was where the Hash started from, escapes me.........

Off the bus at Glen Tannar Home Farm, and the day gets better and better - a down down to yours truly for my replacement 450 run hat (just call me Two Hats Sonic), and I get given the Hash horn - and girls it is a truism, there's nothing like getting the horn on a Sunday morning.

So after the Hares muttered something about collecting flags, it was off along the glen we went, and went and went with me pumping my horn for all it was worth, and after 3 or 4 miles it was beginning to get monotonous (not pumping my horn.....), with only the occasional river crossing or quarry diversion to distract us. Although 'One Foot' did distract some of us (those of us at the front you understand) as she appeared to be doing a Paula Ratcliffe because her cotton shorts had a tidal mark of biblical proportions, 'it was Little Shit at the river crossing' she mumbled (or was that her shorts?).

After the sweetie check my honed Hashing skills took over and I veered left up the hill while the pack charged sheep like back across the Water of Allachy until they met the back check. It took a while for 'Watsoff and 'Canna be Arsed' to catch up, but I let them pass as I know they get really peed off if they can't get a go at the front from time to time.

So it was on up and up and you can guess the rest.....over the Hill of Duchery to be met by Harley waving his very own Dutchish, or is that Scolland, flag at which point I was attacked by 'Trouser Shredder' as she lunged for the St George's flag that Harley was offering ME. On down the hill to meet up with Thruppeny Bits lounging by the side of the track and whose offer of 'shall I blow your horn' I unfortunately had to decline.

Finally, we arrived at the beer check - I say beer check but it was obvious that it was a beer check stocked by Hash cash - shame on you Farmer for there being no Boddies!! (just a few knackered ones lying around). We then spent a little time attempting to spot an elusive specimen of local wildlife, which was rumored to be following the pack, the larger greying 'Knumbskull - but most of us soon got fed up with that game and left to get to the Bus and more beer.

At the bus down downs were awarded to:

• Little Shit for removing his shirt and showing off his man-boobs

• Olymprick for demonstrating the fine Scottish art of snoring to Aussie Nash Hash

• ‘Lifeboats' & Coxin' for going down the slipway – sorry, aisle

• 'Tight Arse', 'Ten Bob' and 'Camel Back' were named and inducted into the Hash

• 'Cana be Arsed' for getting the biggest St George's flag

• The Hares

It was then On Inn to the Feughside Inn for lunch and general mayhem - precipitated by Harley announcing that the first round was on the Hash.

After that it was off home where I attempted to get Thruppeny Bits to squeeze my bladder and blow my horn.

On On Sonic

Run No 1175

10th April.

The Parkway. Harley's Alternative Alvie Run

The weather had warmed up slowly over the weekend so was it not too unpleasant Sunday.

It must have been Harley's birthday again as he had decided the run was going to be free! He had probably only expected half a dozen to turn up and received a surprise when everybody who had not gone to Alvie appeared. Must have heard the run was free!

With Harley acting as Hash Cash, GM and Hare he promptly elected me to write this rubbish. I knew I would have to pay somehow! I only normally have write cryptic one line instructions & reports and instructions which only the drilling fraternity and possibly Olymprick can understand and do my utmost to stay off audit teams and the like were writing is involved, including this.

After filling up on macaroni pies and 'rowies' from Graeme's shop, Harley then kindly tells us the run is about 8.5 miles long but he had shortened it. Little did we know then that he had only knocked a mile off it!

The pre run down down went to Sergio who has been counting down to his 400th run and was presented with a radiant blue 400th run fleece. It fitted!

The run started in the normal manner, utter disarray after the first 100m, with the pack spread over 500 metres of playing fields not sure whether there is any flour or should we be joining the football training. After milling about for 10 minutes, the trail was eventually found as it wended its way through Danestone. Everybody noted the dog scaring tactics utilised to save the lamp posts. They were all still standing and the trail was fast and furious out to good trails in the fields and woods on the outskirts. Hippo as usual in the lead was breaking the checks fairly quickly giving no chance for a rest as we disappeared out towards the Don close to the airport. All in all it was very good training for the Balmoral 10k as everybody was quite puffed by the time the beer check was eventually reached. Sign of the times when most folk are now searching for a Capri Sun!

Bruce Allmighty had sensibly slept in and had found his way straight to the beer check, beating everybody including Olymprick who had no opportunity to short cut.

Down Downs to:

• Drillbit for being a sad b......d for having embroidered On On feet on his car floormats (They were an Xmas present from my daughter, honest!)

• Harley for setting an excellent run and scaring the dog owners.

• Hippo: Can't rememberwhat for.

• Olymprick & Tonguelasher for hi profile Aussie Nash Hash T shirts for 'Fatties'

After the circle it was straight into the Parkway for a pint and a carvery.

On On Drillbit

Run No 1174 - 3rd April.

A lovely sunny morning Newseat Community Woodlands Car Park near Inverurie.

Not too many people out today, but a pleasant gathering none the less. For some reason the GM decided that he wanted the run report written by someone who doesn't run - said he wanted to know what goes on when there isn't the business of checking & checkbacks to be got through.

Usually we are a fair sized group but today there were only three of us, Stiffey, myself and Bruce, who I think had decided not to run before he realised he would be saddled with two women who hadn't got a clue where they were meant to be going, even with a map (Stiffey is a graduate of the same map reading school as I am!!!). Anyway he rose gallantly to the challenge and navigated us around the run, even assisting us over many barbed wire fences and JC's moveable ladder (although we didn't know at the time that he had been carting it all over the run). I think we can safely say that Stiffey and I have turned Bruce into a bona fide runner - don't think he'll risk being lumbered with woosey girlie girls again even though he behaved with gentlemanly aplomb that most male hashers couldn't aspire to even if they wanted to !!!!!!!

The only time we met up with the pack was at the standing stones when Lifeboats informed us that she was hot - probably due to her recent nuptials - this had led her to have to wear an alice band thingy with balls on it (to represent her hubbies emasculation due to his newly wedded state) and said new husband Coxin to have to wear a veil to show his total future subservience to his new wife (alright, there might have been a few winged procine creatures flying around at the time, but a girl can dream can't she??!!).

They received down downs for their state of wedded bliss as did: Dutch Cap, Coxin, Harley & Lifeboats (as an honorary dutch person) for something to do with nigerians & passports Struth for having a map Hillary for taking the beer back early Cinders for not realising that it was JC who had provided the ladder & not a thoughtful farmer (did she really think the GM would be that courteous??!!!!!).

After the circle it was back to JC & Fifi's for a very pleasant lunch, for which many thanks.

Knae Knickers

RUN 1173

On On - Peterculter Football Club

Hares - More Butt and Harley

Weather - very dreich indeed

We are informed of poor Pink Panthers misfortunes and resulting trip to A&E, we all hope you mend soon Sarah. Hero Harley responds to the call and steps into the breach. See Harley, being such a nifty fifty brings its own special responsibilities.

Down Down to Coxin and Lifeboats to mark the occasion of their imminent marriage - to the strains of a beautifully droned rendition of the wedding march of course. Congratulations to you both. We welcomed no fewer than 4 new boys, all credit to them for pitching up on such a day.

Mention must be made of two outstanding, or rather, upstanding bunny ears sported by Sans O and Orietta. Sans O had gone to great length to acquire these, having spotted Asda staff wearing them, he'd scoured up and down the aisles, both floors, to locate them. Observing his growing desperation, staff eventually had to usher him into the staff room and give him a couple of pairs. Seems they are a His n Hers set as Sans O's ears maintained their upright stance throughout, where Orietta's adopted a more feminine kink.

Off we set, up and down slippery dales. Not far along, we cannoned into Penguin who was stood, lost in admiration, gazing at a most attractive 'dunny' backing onto the track. Word of warning Penguin, wouldn't say planning permission was a given for Queens Rd.

On some more, until The Body ordered the girls to get their kit off. Without a moment’s hesitation, JC began taking his off too, just to be ready he said. One layer lighter we shot off, thundering straight through a police surveillance operation, PC Plod managing a wan smile. Before we knew it, we happened upon the Egg check - Whitetrash declining his crème egg on the grounds he was watching his figure.

Next, we disturbed a field of horses. One particular frisky animal making a serious charge at the gate and inciting his hommies to a stampede, at which point we decided to disperse in a calm manner. Now I'm not yet au fait with all the names, but I have it, straight from the horses mouth as it were, that the stallion is called Threadbare. Now this does seem an unlikely name, but when one considers the pure bloodline, this lends some understanding to the daft pedigree title.

We canter on, but where is the flour and who is taking us this way at such an alarming pace? You on something Penguin? Its only when we approach a backstop from the wrong direction, we are re-orientated. Lightsout careered down a steep gradient and was delighted to crashland against a concrete block, the alternative route being less appealing.

Why did we keep seeing a wee green car? T'was because it contained a Hare. It was only a matter of time..... we hear a muffled 'On On' repeat, sounding like a sick ambulance, and there's passenger Sans O having bribed his way in. Hadn't recognised him without the ears, insufficient headroom y'see.

Beer stop was chez Whirlwind where toddler Sam Whirlwind looked wide eyed at the sudden influx of noisy giants into his garage. There we engaged in discussion about the Dhobi Itch, amongst other things (does this ring a parents of now teenagers bell of a bedtime storybook, Unfortunate Wally?) Someone was most concerned about the correct eradication therapy. The nurse suggests a fungal unction for which self administration is perfectly possible. For those of you who need to know, Dhobi Itch is like ringworm only in a different place.

Tallyho – we're now on the home stretch and it did stretch. Somewhere in the Nursing Home grounds we were greeted head on by an arm waving frantic Cannae be arsed – where on earth was the beer stop? he cried, or words to that effect. He and Penguin had been so far ahead of the game, they'd missed the beer prompt altogether. They had some tales to tell, Cannae be arsed had moved so fast he'd travelled ahead of time and Penguin had been consumed by a wheelie bin!? You'd have to have seen the previous nights Dr Who.

Finally, we regrouped for a wet huddle (now, there's an image) Down Downs to:

Sans O and Orietta for having the good sense not to go to Hadrian's Wall. It was noted that Oriettas ears were now mud tipped, had she been rutting we wondered

• Whitetrash was appropriately admonished for presenting himself late to the huddle as he'd taken timeout to sponge down his knees and don his 10 pairs for a £l comfortable manny shoes

• The new boys who demonstrated ample ability to join in the madness and were great scouts for the 45 checks missing from last week

• The passengers. Not only Sans O, but the bride had hopped in for a leg too.

The end.

On On. 1 foot.

PS Please do take extra care on the roads, Sans O has mislaid his 'normal' 'driving' glasses

RUN MCLXXII Brig o'Bogendreip

Harley's half century bash the night before, thick haar in Aberdeen, last minute change in venue, ineptly signposted rerouting to the run site. The pack gathers. Late, moaning about the weather, hungover, shambolick and disorganised - exactly as usual. In the circle RA Aids appears with what looks like a portable chemical toilet stuffed up his jumper, its actually the usual assortment of commemorative tat to disburse to sad people. (But the toilet analogy is not without significance. See later.) For no obvious reason the scribes horn is bestowed on me - though any association of myself with horniness would require a subtler mind than mine to discern. Living about closest to the run site and having daily familiarity with the labyrinth of South Deeside, Sans 0, of course, arrives late.

The hares are a gnarled old time server with a glamorous novice assistant, Farmer and One Foot. The trail is set in orange in honour of Harley, Farmers usual reprobate associate in shortcutting. Farmer is still euphoric, yesterday the Englander rugger boys had the most runs and won in straight sets. This doubtless accounts for the parts of the run he set- while feeling invidious, insensitive, inconsiderate (and probably incontinent). The ineptly set, but vindictive uphill backchecks were obviously all his doing while the pretty sunlit glades and charming riverside paths were equally obviously the delightful handiwork of One Foot. Little Shit found shiggy to wallow in either way. Good run, and after, while basking in the sun, supping ale and munching supersweet Dutch wedding cake the pack patiently awaited the return of the Walkie Talkies. And waited. And waited. And waited. Some moron had given the Walkie Talkies a map and they had ventured out of sight of the cars! At last they straggled back and the circle commenced and continued, amidst the usual cacophony and chaos. Only one thing of note lodges in my memory. Aids has a small holding - an organic small holding, of which he is inordinately proud, despite the debilitating consequence of loud, odoriferous and virtually continuous flatulence which ingesting the produce thereof engenders. In witness whereof, and on account of which, both Aids and Cinders were down downed. And with the sun still shining we went on our way. And in Aberdeen the dour damp haar loured all day.

WOTZOFF

AH3 RUN 1171

Donmouth Carpark, Bridge of Don

Hare: Wotzoff

Why did I decide to walk to the On On and then misjudging how long it would take me to walk the 2 miles? Needless to say, I just turned up in time to hand over the hash horn to Farmer and give the RA the award due to a lucky hasher! Many thanks for FiFi who collected the money and I just wonder if she would like to take over this job next year, hashers remember to vote for FiFi for hash cash!

Farmer was dumb founded as I offered to take the horn and produce this dribble called a scribe for this run. Well it was somewhat cold and chilly at the mouth of the river Don that Sunday morning, at least the sun was shining one the righteous.

Stainless got her 200" run sweatshirt and looked pretty in red, a new runner turned up, yes another cloggy, who got a down down at the end of the Kirkhill run for some reason, in fact he did not know there was a hash in Aberdeen, well that was his excuse

Then over to the hare, who pontificated somewhat about sawdust not staying put in the wind, any well trained hare would know that and running out of coloured substance mixed in with the flour, so excuses at the start of the run abound!!!!!! Medium length run, by Mearns standards was the last thing I heard and do not use lifts to go up Seaton high rising flats, yeah very convincing.

Now having some local knowledge sometimes pays off but if you find yourself in the company of wolves, sorry fellow hashers like Tiger Feet and Farmer, you are bound to take the inside line and so it was we were running parallel to the main pack through Seaton park, following the curve in the river Don, up the hill to the demolished Tower Bar, through some more demolition works, on flour I hasten to add but not another hasher in sight, must have got stuff in the lifts after all.

No sign of the sweetie check and the four of us, The Penguin had to join in our little group, we stayed on flour all the way past FiFi and Sabrina, “The beer stop is over there somewhere' FiFi uttered and along this narrow path we went, a new one on me, see you will always learn from others, one of the reasons I took up hashing in the first place.

The beer stop confounded the 4 hashers, not a drop of beer to be had, only found out that instructions were issued at the sweetie check, is this an attempt to stop intelligent hashers from taking a short cut?

By now the sun had set on this run and the snow returned. 10 out of 10 to Hashbeer for the Gluhwine, it never touched the sides as it went down.

Post run down downs were awarded to some of the skiers, Sans O and Drill Bit for two off something, a big dump provided by Farmer, thank God I was not there all I can say, One-liner for doing something with a wire, Henni, the new cloggy for causing a full cale emergency at Aberdeen Airport importing flour, so that is why Wotzoff ran out! two clipers, The Body and Tiger Feet and finally the hare for providing us with all this entertainment, quick off to the pub for some much needed heat.

On-On to my 50th Birthday Party on Saturday, looking forward to getting the moths out of my wallet at last.

49 stinks, Harley

Scribe: Rotten O'Gairn

Sunday 20th Feb 2005-02-21

Run No. 1168

Hares: The Body & Sonic,

Scribe: Aids

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! And it did! The sun shone too (until the blizzard settled in for the post-run circle!).

Good Hare tip - use coloured flour when setting runs in snowy conditions. Check Good Hare tip – lay the flour on top of the snow once it's fallen. Bing-Bong. Wrong!!!!!! Good Hare tip - use coloured flour for special occasions (e.g. pink flour for Valentine run). Ah - but that was last week wasn't it!!!

At least the hares put most of the flour on the trees - unfortunate then that the windward side of the trees were also mostly covered in snow. Guess it beats getting up on Sunday morning to re-lay the trail.

Pre-run down-down went to:????? (Don't remember - don't care. It wassna me - I just got the poxy horny/scribe. That purple lurex strap it comes on ain't half bloody scratchy - F-knows what it must be like wearing knickers made out of that. What some people will do for a s-g!).

Shortest hare announcement on record - "It's that way!", quickly spoiled by co-hare who called the pack back to issue ‘instructions' (typical male - bet he wouldn't have chanced it if his missus had been about!).

So off we set - up the hill and someone found a check. Sergio and I checked right and after a couple of spots found a big arrow so we followed that – straight back to the car-park. However managed to bring half the pack with us, which was good. Several complaints ensued - that was a bit long/short, where's hash beer etc. Facing up to reality we set off back up the hill.

Same level of confusion reigned through out the run - with various folk running bits of the trail backwards, bumping into folk coming the other way etc etc. Martin appeared from time to time to put us straight and lay more big arrows.

All in all not a bad run considering the hidden flour - looked like everyone made the beer check at least. (Got hassled by Sergio to perform my magic bottle opening trick and then he bloody whinges because it's cider and he didn't want that!!!!).

Back at the circle - wonderful eclectic mix of (warmish) Thain's pies. Penguin had a mince one with bird-seed topping. Very stylish. Lights Out had a greenish yellow one that turned out to be chicken curry. Yummy!

Down downs went to:

Numskull (something about Dundee, pigeons & cannonballs – guess you had to be there),

Cinders – for actually believing something she read in an email,

Kay (for being Lifeboats's sister?)

and the hares - double hashit!

On-Inn: Fourmile at Kingswells

Run Number 1166

06 February 2005

Hare Threadbare.

On-on AA Box Cairn o’mount road

Daydreaming in the pre-run circle wondering how to get away after the run as fast as possible is almost a guaranteed method of being picked on by the Hashmaster to be scribe for the day. Of course the reason I needed to get away early was so that I could finish reading my copy of Ralph Manley Strachan's acclaimed best seller “The G Gispert Code” (available on Amazon.co.uk £16.99).

The thrust of the book, is that the history of hashing we've been told for years about bachelors in Kuala Lumpur soaked in gin and smoking hash, is just a cover of the real story, going back thousands of years. In ancient Indo-Malay religion, the cult of the female sex-goddess, Ganeesh (Indian) or Gw’anhaash (Malay) was maintained by a secret society which adopted Gispert a front so they could infiltrate western civilisation. The premise is that every hash has a hidden female-dominated counterpart, who carry on the traditions of the Gw'anhash sect. In accordance with the ancient traditions, this is lead by a female, the B'wardee, perfect in body and pure in spirit. (Gispert was of course married to the local B’wardee, but never kissed her on the hash.) She is served by two or more handmaidens, whose main task is to test and select suitable males (perfect in body, they don't care about the spirit) for the monthly ritual at full moon, Hireos Haasheesh. Males tried and found to be imperfect are marked with the ishtar tattoo. In the Hireos Haasheesh ritual, held in a circle drawn in white out of sight of mortal men, the nude maidens feed strong alcohol to the chosen males until they are insensible, partake of their blood and urine from a pewter chalice, and engage in multiple sex acts and repeated chanting until they reach sangara, a state of nirvana or complete satiation.

Using the Freedom of Information Act I have actually investigated these allegations, and have found very little substance in them. Pigiron assures me that his glügwein and lager have no recognizable human or animal content. Finding an AHHH female who is perfect in body and pure in spirit is of course ridiculous. When ****** and *** **** disappear into dark areas of the forest with men, it is because they are gossiping so much, they have lost the trail, not that they are carrying out sex tests. Watzoff, Tonto and White Trash keep their shirts on because they are gentlemen, not because they have to hide their tattoos. And obviously sex in the circle is completely forbidden in all hash ceremonials.

The book also talks about the eight holy symbols used on the sect trials that were adopted by Gisbert for marking his trails and signalling the post-run circle activities:

You can work out their meanings yourself (clues above). Most of them have fallen out of use today however. You can imagine my apprehension at arriving at the on-on to see a strange symbol 11-9, written stark and white in the road. What could this mean? Was Strachan right after all? However, seeing Farmer in his white shirt with the symbol of the rose explained it: his boys had taken a hellova beating from some celtic warriors dressed as leeks. Surprisingly most of the Scots were in good spirits too - I didn't hear a single battle cry of “we wuz robbed” (apart from Max Schmelling's ghost). Most of the usual front running bastards weren't at the on-on. Were we in for a long day finding trails?. And we had a stand in hash beer too. Would the ides of February be propitious? Yes and no was the answer. (I'm not sure what it means either!)

Threadbare set a cracking run, taking in forests, hills, moors, paths, several streams, boggy bits, slippy bits, and some very clever checks. There's no better site for a hare than seeing three-quarters of the pack head off from the check in completely the wrong direction and have to run back several hundred yards to get to the real trail. Fortunately the weather was cool and dry, just right for running, and the pack seemed to be at the beer check, or at the 9.2 km rest point according to our techie friends, in hardly any time at all. However, it took the hare's arrival to actually locate the beer, and at least one experienced international hasher, aka The Penguin, managed to run past the beer stop entirely. As usual, we didn't see much of Farmer and Harley on the run at all, but this time, Cinders was also conspicuous by her absence. I know she was saying how she was getting her own back on Aids for double-booking her Grandmother's wedding with a hash weekend, but I don't think we should read too much into the three of them disappearing for 45 min. There was so much good running on the run I didn't catch much gossip.

I did wonder about Mad Cyclist though. He had got his posh 150 run sweatshirt (Tim didn't get as much as a mention by the way), but explained how, being a enthusiastic techie, had managed to rig up a hologram, running off his car battery, to do his hashing for him when the weather was shitty. So he's probably only done about 100 of those 150 runs under his own steam (battery).

We all saluted Cannae be arsed for getting a job looking after old ruins, although some people said he'd been practicing this unpaid for quite a while. What can they mean?

Other awards.

• Jason, son of Hillary, who we renamed Arselot, for no obvious reason.

• Richard Boyle for preferring Aberdeen to Oman.

• Sonic, for not cleaning his bathroom equipment.

• Sergio for wearing his trousers too tight.

• Trouser Shredder for physical abuse of a goat wrestler. Tonto for being intelligent.

• Nae Knickers for reading the wrong way up. Cinders for running alone (so she says).

• And Farmer for stimulating ladies with his chocolate fingers.

Pip Pip T Rex Cock

NOT THE BURNS RUN SHOCKER!! Run Number 1163 23rd January 2005

"Oh would some power the giftie gie us....

Aberdeen Hash (for it is they) were rocked by rumours that this might not be the Burns Run or maybe it was. And, if it is to be next week (as rumoured), who is doing the speeches and organising the entertainment? And why are some people wearing tartan and some not? And is LITTLE SHIT serious about those shorts? Has he lost his Black and Decker? And where is Stonehaven? And why is STRUTH always late? And why does the mismanagement bother to have meetings? And whose fault is it all anyway?

Questioned by your bemused correspondent, the GM (aged 87 of no fixed abode), aka FARMER, attempted to divert attention by grooming STAINLESS, offering her the hash horn to carry. Fortunately long experience in dealing with old men in stained England rugby shirts stood her in good stead and she refused to squeeze the bulbous misshapen object thrust into her trembling hands.

The hare HILARY (for it was he) stepped up to be rewarded with his 150th sweat shirt accompanied by a stoop of the finest Pale Ale this side of the Cowie sewage outfall. In keeping with the general decline in moral standards, the pre-run briefing centred on the subject of sweeties in return for favours granted under the cover of the woods

(“You'll get a sweetie if you ask me the right question little girl etc etc ”).

Forewarned, the hash set off in different directions, determined to avoid the honey trap while believing that THEY were on trail and that the rest of the world was wrong. It later transpired that the run had been set 1 /2 times owing to a slight snowfall, so no-one actually completed the thing. The PENGUIN struck an involuntary blow for the Right to Roam by destroying a gate whilst effortlessly hurdling same. Stainless in her new role as hash horn followed that old fox WHITE TRASH, so she was of little help. The walkie-talkies simply wandered in ever-decreasing circles until gently restrained by their attendants and taken back to the home.

After nearly eight and a half minutes of moderate exercise the mob returned to the sanctuary of the car park and another Gluhwein/ Vino Caldo/ Vin Chaude triumph served by the maestro himself in rare, delicate polystyrene goblets. As has lately become depressingly inevitable it was deemed necessary, yet again, to provide light (very light. Ed) entertainment and have a circle. Well, it does give the cook time to catch the haggis.

The GM opened proceedings with quotable quotes from President Dubya Bush in the absence of the Leader of the Free World who was away on holiday in Egypt. Apparently these quotes were funny, but they seemed perfectly normal to your reporter. Then the star-turn!! PIGIRON was allowed to award the Italian Condom to PENGUIN for speaking out of turn. ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS!! WHAT A TRIUMPH!! If only the rest of the mismanagement were so talented!! After this things went downhill with the usual suspects taking their dreary turn.

SONIC seems to have been stalking ONE FOOT on North Deeside Road and felt it necessary to charge her with practising on a Saturday evening, thus betraying the need to get a life for both of them.

Rather than simply welcoming Fabrizzio Conti back to his fifth run, the hash deemed it expedient to christen him TODGERTELLI , just in case we never see him again. (An Italian who likes living in Aberdeen may tip over the edge anytime. Ed) Apparently he works (?) for ENI and hasn't been told about them yet.

The recent sad event in West Aberdeen was dredged up by the RA who picked on poor old MAD CYCLIST for missing the mismanagement booze up business meeting due to work commitments (or so he told the missus. Ed.). LITTLE SHIT went one further by turning up a week early for the event, safe in the knowledge that the GM was away and hoping for a NAE KNICKERS experience. Significantly the siren was not required to expurgate her guilt with a down.

The prize for fancy dress went to WOTSOFF, who made the best of his bony knees and came as a lollipop. In recognition of his valiant attempt to evade capture by his wife après hash last week, HARLEY was nominated for a drinkie by FIFI whose hospitality he had spurned, preferring to stand by the roadside in sunny Elrick waving at rich folk passing in their motors.

As if the above were not tedious enough, three sinners were bought to book under the catch-all category of misdemeanours: LISA PONSONBY for not realising that her mystery supply teacher last week was, in fact, STAINLESS (which explains her relief when told that the arrangement is temporary. Ed); PENGUIN for wilful damage to public property, to wit a gate; and LITTLE SHIT for running through a back check and poxing up the run (is this not allowed? Ed.)

At long last, just when the last flicker of life was about to be extinguished, the circle concluded with a down for the HARE who apparently has some connection with one black one and one white one....(enough songs. Ed)

Exhausted by the impact of this litany of sin the hash made their way to their personal transport solutions and left for Mr and Mrs Cuddy's bijou mansion in Cults for sumptuous nosh. As ever the fare was generous and even Stainless was mellowed by the haggis, neaps and tatties so appropriately provided. We were doubly fortunate in having the songs of Burns playing softly in the background to everyone's delight. A big thank you to GLASGOW for the hard work and especially for letting us warm our tootsies on the posh under floor heating (pity about the glacial sheet in the conservatory, but I couldn't leave without a final offensive remark. Ed).

Scribe: Pigiron Gratuitous Advice by Stainless

Run: 1161

On On: Duthie Park,

8 Jan’05

Hares: Pigiron & Stainless

A large group gathered at the Duthie Park for today's extravaganza. The RA awarded the pre-run down down to Harley for amorous doings in the woods with.................his wife! Disgraceful behaviour! The hare spouted the usual lies about the run and we were off.

A dirty check on the old railway line had us all stumped and all o'er the place for a wee while....and then off again along riverside and o'er the bridge into Kincorth. Now, this is where I really should have known better. I followed Cinders.... I know, I know and to make matters worse, Cinders was following Harley and Farmer! JC followed me (baa, baa), leaving the pack without both horney blowers! JC muttered something about the hash liking a good blowjob.

We were well and truly off trail and running aimlessly around the streets until we headed up into the Gramps where we met up with the pack. All sorts of nonsense probably went on up there before we joined them but you'll have to ask the rest of them about that.

Another check had us baffled at the dual carriageway and again, I checked in all the wrong directions (I was sure we were heading up through the Plottys and on to the Barron's Cairn). On On was called downhill and off we went winding our way around the industrial estate and out onto a grassy hill where the beer check welcomed us with a bonny view o'er the Granite City.

Back to the Duthie Park and the circle commenced with our much loved gluevine. Announcements:

•  Whitetrash & Little Shit are organising a joint weekend with the Mearns Hash on 29/30. 

• Fagan is back in hospital this week to have his bionic legs sorted out - we all send him our best. 

• Nae Knickers is organising a weekend in Skye. 

• Sans'O requests we find suitable vulnerable folks to bring/bully as new runners.

Down Downs went to:

• JC for playing with his member whilst watching Jerry Springer!

• Sir, Stiffy, Whitetrash & Dad Dad (in absensia) for losing their bits!

• Nae Knickers refused to drink from her new shoes and passed the buck to Farmer who had to drink from his old smelly shoes.......bet she didn't kiss him for a while after that.

•  JC again, something to do with a Red man?!

• Farmer for exposing himself in a park!

• The Body for speeding.

• The Hares for a fab run.

On On to Kirkton of Skene for next week’s run. Trouser Shredder XX

2nd January 2005

RUN 1160

Hares: Farmers

Scribe: Twizzle

1160 - New Years (+1) in the white stuff.

Location: Cranford road

The sun peeked out briefly, shivered and retreated to bed. A cool run beckoned and the great weather god had decreed that the Granite City run would be white again. Accordingly the faithful flock converged at the farmhouse in Cranford road for the 1st of the season's worship.

But, the holy entrance was barred! A sign had been left (not in holy flour) proclaiming the rear entrance was open. Accordingly the congregation assembled in the farm yard and were brought to order by the mother superior.

A silence in tribute to the lost in the tsunami disaster was strictly observed, and the sermon duly began. First the sacraments went to Sonic & Mrs T awarded for the distinction of 450 attendances. Then some new members of the flock were paraded before us, Lone Ranger from Botany Bay, Dad Dads Offspring, and a John from Aberdeen. Suddenly, I was possessed and offered myself as scribe for the day. This moment of madness quickly passed, as the mighty quill and horn were passed to me. Tonto interrupted the sermon by making his normal timely entrance, displaying a fine set of goose bumps much admired by the more formally dressed.

A call from the pulpit explained that we were out of holy flour this day, instead we will make our way to the next worship point at Queens Rd, the house of the Reverend Penguin. With a blast of the mighty organ the congregation burst forth. Twizzle of course choosing the dead end! On back tracking what a sight greeted me. The flock was spread far and wide heading in a general Northern direction. The climb to the spot of the egg and dart proved a little too much for those who had over indulged and were forced to repent.

A mighty house now stood looming before us, but wait the door again was barred, this time with no sign. Of course it was a rear entrance day. The route lead us past a fine collection of dustbins, there in the back yard the Reverend Penguin greeted us from confines of a small hut. Rumours quickly circulated that the mighty house had been rented to ethnics or worse, this was quickly quashed by the first of the fiery sacraments.

After a brief reflection the high priest announced that the next hall of worship was in Caledonian the house of Aids & Cinders. With a blasting of mighty trumpets the flock swirled east then south to another small house of worship. More holy wine was passed around by now we were all getting the hang of this. Once more, the high priest arrived then announced that the beer stand at Duthie was the next worship point. Again the faithful flock burst into song and the pounding of many feet rang forth across the town.

Alas, the sermon was false! At this house of worship there was no relief. Eventually, as the mood darkened, the high priest arrived and gave sacrifice. After the ritual it was decreed the next point of worship would be at the Body and Joyboys hall. By now the congregation was tiring and beginning to thin, no amount of mighty horn blowing could induce vigour in some. Joy Boy and the Body attempted revival, by the injection of cunning mixtures, this of course had the opposite effect and even the fleetest of foot now drifted back to the Cranford church for the final sermon.

The high Priest was still in fine form and singled out a number of sinners, for repentance:

The Lone Ranger; (Travelling half way round the world) Aids & Hippo; (Men of soil for garden abuse) DadDad & Numbskull; (Getting lost in Duthie Park) Lost boy; (missing Hogmanay) Pussy cat; (Cause she was there) Twizzle & Gusset;(Nesting for 10days)

Such noble repentance was not enough for some, and a mighty water battle took place despite the artic temperature and Hippo & DadDad demonstrated their resistance to the Spanish inquisition.

New runner John and Jolly Rodger were fined for modelling new footwear, such sins could not be forgiven and they were duly punished. Will we ever see them again? Jolly Rodger from Botany Bay, took the last reading, singling out Running Sore for a tour of ancient conquests. Littleshit was not spared his repentance and demonstrated the convict handcuff not once, but twice!

More water fun followed with the award for the 2004 new members to come forward, a good soaking was endured.

The frosty weather was starting to dampen the stoutest spirit, this was restored by the farmers wife with a massive feast, so great that even the Dyson mighty appetite was sated. The collection was taken in memory of the Asian disaster. Hopefully, a good sum was raised. Alas, Gusset had again flattened my chariots battery, so requiring Littleshit to give me a much needed jump.

A fine start to the year well done to Farmer, Naa Knickers, Penguin, Aids, Cinders, Joyboy, and the body, for such an excellent day.

On On for 2005 Twizzle.