Scribes 2009

RUN 1430

27th December 2009

Hares: Olymprick, Bruce Almighty, The Penguin

Scribe: Sergio

Location: Hazlehead

This week - the Post-Christmas Special

Today's run wasn't about Christmas. It wasn't about God or Jesus, or even JC. It was all about one hasher –

Little Shit. This doughty AH3 stalwart has reached another millstone - sorry, milestone: 950 runs. Solo. All by himself. For this he was rewarded with a cold Speckled Hen. Lucky, lucky, lucky Little Shit.

Tonto got a down-down too - for 300 runs - approx. 20 years after he was awarded his 200 run sweatshirt.

The Penguin got us started as there was no sign of H. Off we went on Hazlehead Park run 3a, variation 2, in unusually frozen snow. The flour was yellow and stood out moderately well as we zig-zagged our way across the 3 golf courses. Crossing the glass-like paths was interesting to watch - anyone in regular “running shoes” having to shuffle across using baby steps.

The front runners stopped for a couple of verses of Good King Wenceslas at one point, other than that it was crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch until we saw a knot of walkie talkies huddled together in a tree covered knoll. This turned out to be whisky mac stop No. 1 - beverages provided by non-other than Olymprick himself, trudging up the slope towards us like an eager St Bernard.

The pack set off once again. A long downhill section into the woods followed by a long uphill section (parallel to the downhill bit) and low and behold, we were in sight of whisky mac stop No. 2. Bruce Almighty handed round cups of warming tipple.

We set off again, this time it was back to the cars by the most direct route, and it wasn't long before we were all glugging back the gluevine that Numskull was dispensing with festive generosity.

It was a while before everyone reassembled and the circle was convened. Olymprick soon had the attention of 4 chattering ladies, he gave them the opening down-down.

Harley did a bit, Olymprick did a bit more, we gave Little Shit another down down, baldie Chris was named “Baby’s Arse” and Hippo got Tonto out for a birthday drink.

I know there were many more, but your scribe's pen (and brain) iced up and no more could be recalled.

All in all the conditions were tricky to say the least, but the hares and hounds of AH3 rose to the occasion and yet another run was completed. Hash……. Done! Yet another box ticked. If you were there you won't forget it - it was Little Shit's 950th run.

ON ON, and happy hashing in 2010

SERG

Sunday 20th December 2009

Hare: Magane

On On; Tarland, Crossroads Motel

On Inn: Crossroads Motel

A pleasant and crisp morning saw the diehards brave the icy road conditions to travel the 15 miles past Echt, which felt more like 50 miles, especially at a snail’s pace following Thrup’ny Bits. Who upon reaching the OnOn claimed she was going slowly to allow me to overtake, hmmm...

Oh well, we made it in one piece with time to spare before the On Circle, where the hare, aka Magane was arranging parking. Sweeties for us brave souls where liberally handed round, Tiger Feet called us to attention, eyes front and squint. For my part I was still mid-way through a tale of hashing exploits and was duly awarded the orange scribe vest and horn, “hoot hoot”!

Hippo was told he was guest RA'ing cos the real RA was doing something else! So already being asked to be RA, I was then made guest, guest RA and awarded The Duchess (Ann-Marie) a 50 run T-shirt, but it appears she has done more like 60 odd runs with her first being Hash 180 on Monday 1st September 1986 (hares for that run where Uxters and FiFi and the OnOn was Scolty Hill), what an anorak I am!!!!

The hare was called to elicit some details of the trail - white flour on snow, arrows and double back flips, with mince pies whisky checks, beers stops and lots of back checks. Sounds good to me! On up the hill to the first back check, bugger! The flour had turned a funny blue colour, I need to get the recipe. Back up the other side of the hill, a swift left and up to another back check, good old (young in comparison to me) Trouser Shredder managed to drag most of the pack up to the top. On back down to follow the trail to an arrow pointing the wrong way............. we are supposed to ignore this arrow until we find it again later on, Errrrrrrrr, ok, I'll go the opposite way to the arrow.

At the top of the hill we got the view and the mince pies, lovely day to be out in the country, the stay at homes missed a glorious day out. Ziggy back down the hill, to the beer check and then into a full blown snow ball fight with Mrs T, FiFi, JC, Hippo, Tiger Feet, Sharnie, Toy Boy Tom and Trouser Shredder. Where was Numbskull, and where was The Duchess..........

On back to the hash dray, and pre poured gluevine, that's where Numskull had got to!

Circle was called and RA Hippo brushed back his greying locks and blames Trouser Shredder for tiring out Cannae B’arsed, who apparently was in Aberdeen slurping hot coffee.

At this point in the proceeding, Streaker wonders into the circle looking decidedly the worse for wear. A night in A&E, stomach pumps and all sorts of things inserted in to unmentionable places - hare of the dog and another handle Drip-on-line.

On to the On Inn.

Sitting in a bar with Hippo is a pleasant affair, a meeting of like minds, a refreshing look at the world through beer tinted goggles (have to stop shaking the bottle before removing the cap. Ed). When these points of view are aired some say we are grumpy old bastards, but life is not fair and the world continues to revolve and beer still gets more and more expensive. The BPI (beer price index) has gone up 93 (1500%) points since 1970, that's some inflation! Some of us can still remember the time he could go out with 5 bob, have ten pints, including getting a round in (probably the last time he did. Ed) and get a fish supper on the way home, some can remember even cheaper nights out, especially those with short arms and deep pockets!

The price of beer has always been a problem, and has tended to over shadow other hashing gripes and grumps, not that after a few beers these areas of world shattering importance do not get resurrected and discussed in great detail. The nice thing is, all the answers to the universe and everything (42. Ed) get forgotten with the morning hangover and have to wait for the next session to re-invigorate.

I'm sitting here having a beer and poking a finger through a thread bare twenty year old hash t-shirt, admiring the simplicity of design, and its longevity and how it has evolved to fit my still svelte frame (keg stomach and builder bum. Ed.). No longer are t-shirts so well built, allowing mud and beer to produce a historical picture how we have lived our hashing lives. Dry flo, I think they call it, soaks away the sweat and beer and if a lighted cigarette comes near, crinkles into a charred lump. These shirts are not for hashers, how are we supposed to carry our hashing exploits around, and to show them off with pride. A sad world we now live in.

Looking down at my boots with my toes hanging out the front like a hot Labradors tongue, the laces are starting to rot, cheap shoes, only lasted five years of hashing. I may have to start looking for a replacement pair, but then again I should get another couple of year out of these. My mind then turns to what do you replace them with! Gortex trail shoes, guaranteed to last all of 3 hashes - not likely, that is the slippery road to wearing heart rate monitors and Global Positioning Systems, not to mention the dreaded mobile phone!

I remember a time when technology was absolutely frowned upon by the hashing fraternity, hash shits were regularly warded for a mobile phone announcing its presence in the circle. Once upon a time the humble OS map was new technology and these were duly awarded criminal status.

I suppose a time will come when trails are virtually laid using a lap top and the pack wears sensor devices on their arms that “beep” when they are on and goes “blah” when not on. Sad times, sad times…..

My head is beginning to hurt, time for another beer, “On On”, did I hear you say. Another hash past time that is receding like my hairline, calling on trail or the art of keeping the pack together during a day out in the country. Sad times, which brings me back to the subject of beer and the quality of it awarded at down downs, with the excuse, that it gets chucked and not drunk. Is this because religious advisers do not have the hash sense to award down downs to those that will drink them, under a mistaken belief that they have to involve everyone in the circle, even if they aren't interested, even when the reward is chucked rather than imbibed. A sad time indeed!

Another problem associated with beer, is that after a shed load you end up visiting the urinal on a more regular basis, this is not normally an issue, unless one of those new-fangled toilet blocks is available instead of a tree stump. It appears that designs have changed and toilet stalls are larger than they use to be, when the latch is broke the doors is always too far away to keep closed with my foot (some hashers have had this problem all the time. Ed.). Then there is the problem of the automatic dispensers that only allow one sheet of paper at a time to be removed, then the roll winds back, leaving you hunched over trying to find the lost end. What ever happened to the reading material that used to be supplied, sometimes even neatly cut into squares and attached by a piece of string to a hook? At least in a toilet block you can wash your hands, if you remember that is, and the warning sign on the back of the door is not too much of a blur to remind you - then the next problem - roller towels that are not long enough and the end is sodden and wet. Thank god for hand driers - I have spent many a happy hour after a winter shiggy run drying my bits under the hand drier (nuf said. Ed).

If you are reading this grump, you may be at Nash Hash 2009, in which case you may also be living in a tent, sharing your every bodily noise with your neighbours. Back to basics hashing, unless that is, you are one of the namby-pamby brigade with a 6 birth camper with an on-suit. No wearing the same hash gear for 4 days for you, no hose down from a hose pipe in the evenings. Not that I'm complaining, I'm just jealous.

Oh well, bollox to any more of this, I'm going to get another beer, reminiscing is hard work and makes you thirsty. So, to all you grmpy old bastards out there - “drink it down, down, down - over the head”,

“Yep” I said head (I'll have some of that. Ed)

OnOn to 2010

Little Shit

Run Number: 1427

Easter Anguston Farm, Peterculter

Date: Sunday 6th December 2009

Hare: Hillary, Glasgow & son

Head Hare Hillary announced that the run was exactly a Medium run - which it was it you happened to be a Marathon runner! Sans ‘O’ maybe had had a premonition that the run was not going to be a stroll around the farm yard for he not only brought Ordinance Survey maps - (down-down for that!) - including one of the Cotswolds! - But also 2 small children - maybe to hold onto so he wouldn't be swept off onto the Medium trail?

The run was a good one. But maybe it was too good? A run of exactly the right length: Medium. A run with only a little deep mud. A run with only a little barbed wire. A run with sweeties served personally by the Hare. A run with a beer stop with tasty Empire beer. A run even the sun shone on. Even the turkey in the farm was smiling (but give it a fortnight!).

But was the run too good? For in the Circle, was there anyone to call to account for exploits on the trail?

True, Struth had rolled in the mud, without a partner (down-down for that!).

Then, timed to perfection, Koje Bell and Little Gash arrived a little late from the run just in time for the Circle, murmuring something about a golf course (but which one?). Teeing themselves up nicely for down-downs for that.

But proving that you can't keep an old RA out of the Circle when it comes to dubious exploits, Aids revealed that Numskull had roasted the mulled wine in a roasting pot after he'd failed to DIY install his gas cooker! What would we have down without Numskull - a well-deserved down-down indeed!

Then Thruppennies announced the most important news of all: it's Christmas!! - the AH3 party's on Saturday!! See you there ...................

On! On!

Toy Boy Tom

Scribe; Hash run number.1425....

I felt so honoured being nominated a “scribe” on my first run in 10 years!!!! I only got noticed because I was finishing my sentence while the gentleman in the middle of the circle (GM), he must be very important, wanted to make some announcements at the same time!!! Numbskull straight away shagged (i be so lucky), oh sorry I meant, slagged me of by making some derogatory remark like that won't shut her up!!!

It was a lovely run on a lovely day set by “poor” The Penguin as he had to relay the flour time and time again because of the pissing rain. I’m sure all you long time hashers must have coped with similar scenarios He was walking during the run with a bag of flour dusting the roadside as the bag must have had tiny holes He reminded me of Tinkerbell and her magic dust only the wings were missing.

Do you know, where The Penguin keeps his money in little plastic bags? I don't know if his pockets are too small for a wallet.. After all he is a small man....or would there be another reason I will find out the next time

I was getting the horn from this important man called Tiger Feet and manage to hold it for quite a while but when it got too much for me Theresa volunteered to carry the tooter the rest of the way!!!

I concentrate on the newcomers in this epistle as you old bangers get enough publicity as it is..... first of all there was Claire who has not have a handle yet “Come on” (sounds that could be the handle in itself. Ed) she has been on 10 runs already.. Her parents were present but could not tell me any juicy gossip apart from walking in new shoes with the paper still in them....She has a special technique walking up the hill; bends forward and goes on her tiptoes like looking for your contact lens....anybody any handle ideas yet???

Then there was Vanessa (Gobby Desert! Ed) from Banchory with her brother Whose got 6 points on his driving licence so have! I said “I don't like to be outnumbered”... She rolley polleyed down the hill according to C.J there is no hash handle in that because every self-respecting hasher does that!!!!

The down downs were done by old timer Aids. Hash times are changing because he gave me a compliment finishing the run without needing C.P.R Being used to the old times, I thought he was going to piss me of so I had my knee ready but had to keep it for somebody else....who was trying to be derogate (I like this word do not know how to spell it neither the computer so you get all versions)

Becky got a down down for some kind of watch story which when I asked for clarification nobody could tell me, nobody is listening to the RA nowadays.. Obviously.... My excuse was the malt wines were too strong!!

The food was lovely but took a long time to come so as conversation was wilting we took hold of the kids games and I won with domino's It must have been my day...

Down downs went to the following persons

The Penguin for such a good job .....for misunderstanding the watch story I don’t think anybody understood it but somebody has to be picked.

A 65 year old geezer in shorts who still runs like the clappers Howard suggested we go round with the hat to buy him new shorts...I personally did not see anything wrong with them

The quests, Whingers family, being a she and a he winger. Did not know the ritual of the down downs obviously did not pay attention at all and started to clock down the brew straight away

Anne-Marie (The Duchess)

Run 1424

Feughside

Hares: Sergio and One Foot’

What the ffffk? That spacious car park was full at 10.30, an unlikely clash of elite sporting events – canoeists bent on shooting the swollen rapids and us.

Mrs T was ruminating over how long it seemed since her last award and good gawd, her number was up. I think she liked her dazzle yellow 500 get a life jumper. Welcome to 3 new runners, 2 were Munro Baggers who’d been conscripted atop Scolty during last week’s run, another by Kobe Belle.

Just as I was giving directions to a walkie talkie the GM ordered me to take on the demanding dual role of horn baring scribe and rear hare – guaranteed to suceed, especially in racing green wellies?

Terrain was a bit squelchy (up to the thigh) but what did it matter on such a great run. There I was, just minding everyone else’s business when Head Hare shouted ‘Let me smell you One Foot’’. Eh? Turns out she was sniff testing the orange navvy waistcoat and much thanks to you Two Moons for laundering it.

Bunch of Harriette shepherds were womanfully steering some wayward sheep back from whence they leapt – there was a malicious rumour that they’d been startled by a sudden noise in the area.

The run just got better and better; speed tracks, virgin forest, water features, interesting slopes, organic matter – they panted, sweated, heaved their forms round.

Fantastic, Hash Beer welcomed us in with outstretched hands and Gluwein, but no, his mission was to poke his finger in me chests to check consistency. Were they all my own? Not bad for 51 what, says I. Are you only 51? Could have been deflated, if they were false which they’re not.

Aids was brandished an Old Fart by an Ancient Fart who was invited to imbibe more farting refreshment. Pig Pen (The Penguin) and Numbskull were in for their intransigence. At some point in the proceedings a canoeist in a fancy boiler suit was challenging us to a Dualthlon next year, but we fear he only fancied a beer. Drillbit was in for boasting about his culinary skills and a novel omelette dish featuring molten spatula. A fair and lovely Harriette was invited to show us her shredded trousers but somehow it all deteriorated and next thing she knew she had a very worthy Hash Handle – Little Gash. The sort of name you admire, unless it’s yours. Understandably, she wasn’t holey enamoured and accidently threw her beer onto Nae Knickers and a fight broke out.

It only remains for me to say, what a great run it was.

One Foot

x

Run Number: 1421

Date: Sunday 25th October 2009

Hare: Megane

Bring a medal to the next run to inspire Claire (who had no Name) to recreate a piece of her history and streak for a medal! High attendance is expected at the next run. History repeated itself on the run.

Olymprick set off in the certain knowledge of where the beer stop was only to find it wasn't. After retracing his steps, he and his ghoulish Welsh shop assistant, who had attended to the needs of many of the Harriettes so it was told in the circle, came across some flour. Which the runners on the trail had seen at the first check an hour earlier! Quick thinking told Olymprick the direct way back to the chariot park, only to find a raging river that even the lure of beer failed to tempt him to ford.

So, well after those who'd followed the trail had arrived back at the chariot park and had enjoyed the left-overs of the GM's 21st party food (21! - Who would have guessed it - Hashing does nothing for the complexion, does it?! ), Olymprick and his loyal Welsh shop assistant arrived - bedraggled. And thirsty.

History will not repeat itself for the Welsh shop assistant. No longer will his run be short-changed by believing Olymprick when he says "I know the area"! Mind, they do things differently in deep south Wales: there the circle seems to be a sort of mass University Challenge with the GM as the question master - how many cities are there in Scotland? Egg heads, perhaps, but not wise?

Not that they were the only people to not run the run. One Foot’ approached the beer stop from the wrong direction when her ambitions during her 15k bike ride were deflated by a puncture. Down-downs for arriving late and not finding the trail at all went to Dutch Cap and J.C., despite his protestations that he was only FiFi's passenger. Proves that sexism is still alive at the Hash?

Last week, the driver, Sergio, got the down-down for having to rely on his navigator, One Foot’.

Congrats to FiFi on her 600th run!

For those who did run, the run started before we'd left our cars with Goat Wrestler directing us down the road to a secret barn: a garage rave? Grim warnings from the Hare that the puddles were such that only Speedos should be worn proved not far wrong for some of the puddles seemed to rise up from the bow wave from the boots of Little Shit, Twizzle & Nipples and shower down on all around.

An excellent run along tracks, through trees, Inchmarlo golf course and the old Deeside railway line to where Whinger had sent his wife at the crack of dawn to reccy the false trails for him. But she got her revenge. For Whinger was only brought back from the top of a hill way off in a northerly direction by the distant sound of the Hare's horn heading westerly on trail towards the beer stop.

At the circle, down-downs were downed at the RA's discretion for the above down-downable offences, amongst others. A first for the circle was portable trash: Claire (who had no Name) taking the black trash bag to Hashers to discard their trash (now there's another Name for the girl who had no Name? ! ).

On! On!

Toy Boy Tom

Run 1419

On On: Kinkell Church

Hare: Wotzoff

Although very close to Inverurie, apparently it was difficult to get to by some of the more navigationally challenged amongst us. 16 hashers turned up at this virgin location some of whom were known to have passed on the road going in opposite directions.

The On On was the car park of a company which grew turf and was surrounded by acres of pristine lawn in various stages of growth. It was also across the river from T-Rex's place and he was seen at one stage walking across a newly seeded patch saying “You can see my house from here”

Anyway, it was a sunny-ish morning with a chilly breeze - a portent of the winter to come. In the absence of the regular RA, Twizzle stepped in. Despite this, the run started on time.

The GM was extremely organised and had with him a list of the previous dozen or so scribes in order to spread the load. On the basis that I was the only one present that was not on his list I was awarded the orange waistcoat and horn. This despite the fact that I had ‘ghosted' the missive after run 1409. Perhaps I should be known as “Ghost Wrestler”.

The pre-run down down went to Nipples for turning up.

The run was classic Wotzoff – false trails at the start accompanied by enigmatic suggestions. There was a long loop with half the pack going clockwise and the other half anticlockwise, being met at the 1800 point by a double-headed arrow before ending back where it started, 30 minutes into the run.

After that it became more conventional, a good sprinkling of checks taking us through surprisingly scenic territory, past Keith Hall to the beer check on the bank of the Urie. Judging by the empties and other litter the local youth make good use of this area.

The small turnout meant the hare had a heavier than usual bag to take back to the start, where the down downs included:

• Binliner for making sexist remarks.

• Bruce Almighty and Numbskull for missing the beer check and worse, letting it be found by a woman.

• Harley for his new pink motorbike. Red actually.

• Megane for being clueless, can't remember why.

• T-Rex Cock in thanks for providing the nosh

• And Twizzle to christen his new trainers.

On On

Goat Wrestler.

AH3 Run: 1418

Date : 4 October 2009

On On: Bridge of Bogendreip

Hare: Numbskull.

Now, I have never hashed from Bridge of Bogendreip before so the total absence of the reassuring AH3 road signs was not a good start to finding the on-on. I checked out a turning to the right signed Dreip and sure enough there was a beautiful rustic bridge over the river ----but no hashers. I drove on for another 5 minutes before giving up, turning round and trying again. I finally arrived at the on-on just after the circle was formed and of course - being (almost) the last to arrive immediately had the hash horn thrust into my hands and was nominated as scribe.

A pre run down down was awarded to

Deadmund Hillary for the futuristic looking steel contraption strapped to the roof of his car and designed for maximum drag factor. (It was supposed to be a bike rack apparently).

The run was a fairly long one and set off along broad forestry commission roads. ---And continued for several more checks along said broad forestry roads--- hares should be banned from setting runs on their bicycles!!

The run did eventually pass through very pleasant wooded areas. The problem was this part of the forest had no paths at all--- and no flour. This had the advantage of breaking up an otherwise well contained pack and sorting out the intrepid hardened hashers from the "where the f..k am I" 's.

It has to be said that the run was set in a beautiful location and hence very enjoyable.

Some uphill running took us almost to the top of Kerloch which at 1754 ft is the highest in the area. The run continued along open heather hills and eventually along the side of the River Dye. The beer check was located on the banks of the river where Whinger’s dog kept us amused diving for sticks and showering everybody by shaking himself dry.

Post run down-downs were awarded to:

• JC and Trouser Shredder-- for too much talking during the circle

• Hippo -- in remembrance of his last visit to Bogendreip when he got totally pissed. To keep him sober this time he was given a Milk down-down.

• White Trash—for losing something on the run

• Sergio - for achieving some success in a squash tournament

• The Penguin -- for buying Olymprick TWO beers while waiting for a train at Stonehaven station.

Aberdeen H3 # 1415

Sunday 13th September 2009

On On: a bus departing Aberdeen from various locations, (except anywhere near us).

On Inn: Mrs T's and Hippo's mud pit.

Hares: Mrs T and Hippo

We set out at a reasonable time to meet the bus at Mrs T's and Hippo's country retreat and had ample time to quaff a few beers with our hostess and early arrivals Cannae B’arsed and Trouser Shredder. At a suggestion from Hippo we took a short cut across the field towards the THE MAIN ROAD, (not the the main road), to meet the bus at the listed time of 10.30. Then a few late comers arrived Magane, Bodsa and McCavity (visitors from Inverness) and Bruce Almighty. If the bus is on time it will bode well for a prompt start to the hash run, only one problem, my feet were soaked from the hike across the field. Good advice Hippo!

The bus arrived well in time, and we proceeded to enter. What a sight, especially at this time in the morning - Oh well, at least Hash cash had a smile on her face as we handed over our hard earned hash tax for another year of future joyous hashing...... We found a friendly seat at the rear of the coach and promptly everyone round us came down with travel sickness.

Thrupp'ny Bits threatened to throw up over Drillbit’s head. Then Drillbit blamed me for talking to him, which in turn made him look at me, which then made him want to throw up too. All a bit weird, and then, from two seats forward, Its All Because, starts groaning and moaning and threatening to throw up - so this couldn't have been me, unless there was some residual chuck up aura left when I dropped one when passing!

About this time Hillary unexpectedly came round to mutter "are we there yet", I bet that's the last time Glasgow buys cheap chloroform from the supermarket.

The bus journey passed without further incidence and we were bundled off at OS ref: GR 214127 at the Loanhead plantation (393m) (sad or wot putting this in the scribe).

Numbskull then had the temerity to form the circle round a small cow piss lochen - hashing is not what it used to be - no takers for a pre-hash bathe. I did try, but it was not appreciated...........

Numbskull tried to get some respect, but as he has failed in that area of hash discipline for the last twelve months, there are not many more leavers of discipline he can use. Ahhhhhhhhhh, there is one, orange scribe vest and horn - and guess who got it?

So here I am trying my best to accurately describe the events of this momentous day, a day to remember............... That reminds me, what are we here for? Over to the Hare.

Hippo, agile as ever introduces the run, a circle only check to be checked out by FRBs, circles with crosses in, to be checked out by SCBs, back checks to be done only by Harriettes and all the walkie talkies have to get back on the bus - or something like that! At this time the bus driver decided to turn the bus round, which panicked the whiny walkie talkies, who thought they had to do the long slog of a hash, looks like the driver had a good sense of humour.

On on, on on, on...............and on on....... up the track to the first back check, but a wee shimmy to the right brings us back to the right trail, and then another back check....... This could be a long run! We passed by Croft of Green Bog and wended our way up through undulating forest to the first of the nearly viewpoints, Beadahallock Hill (404m) and then onto some heather bashing to the top of Scar Hill (526m), this is the one with the radio mast! We then dropped off the hill to find a wee lochen and cairn resplendent with water and sweeties. At this point JC had decided to do some front running and do his own thing, more later on that subject. T-Rex-Cock was still with the pack, so something must be going right! After a wee sojourn we head in pursuit of JC and traversed the west side of The Socach where we could JC doing one of the major back checks away in the distance. We then passed Humphrey's well to a check on the saddle between Broom Hill and Pressendye. This side of the hill was misty and Toy Boy was having severe difficulty seeing over the top of the heather, but the pack soon picked up the trail and we headed up onto top of Pressendye, another nearly view. We then headed off the hill only to climb another bloody hill, Pittenderich, which did have a view and fine views they were. As we headed off this hill I noted that Skinny Witch has now taken up running as a hobby and has grown out of the gossip brigade and joined the big people, I wonder if she'll get an award.... On we went to another back check at the old mill at Burnside, then back onto track and on to Beer Check at a large iron farm gate above Hillside.

At the beer check, when we started discussion over how far we'd hashed, my right hip was suggesting it was about 7.5 miles, give or take a 100 yards, Drillbit thought his lower back suggested something closer to 7.8 miles, then a wee voice chirps in, dad and me have got 7.775698756423 miles on the GPS, including back checks, pee stops and accidental tumbles. Discussion over, anyone watch match of the day, they don't have GPS fixed to the ball yet, so we can while away an hour or two discussing if the ball crossed the line or not. I recon Trouser Shredder will get the award for hasher most vocal, her "On On" is improving at every hash, just needs to get hash spore and noise aligned. Which reminds me, there should be an award for most vocal RA, Cannae B’arsed would win hands down, loud enough to wake the dead, never mind the local constabulary.

At this point Nipples says to T-Rex Cock "you've put on a lot of weight recently". He replies "yes I've had a lot on my plate." Then Oneliner gave us his view on Lawyers - 99.9 percent of them give the rest of the profession a bad name.

Finally, we ran down the track to Alamein Farm at GR 506059 to find the bus and some more beer. Then, back to Mrs T's for more fun and frivolities.

Excellent BBQ and stuff, a strong thanks to all those who helped create the spread.

End of run circle

RA, Aids, master of panto and sage like monologs took a bow, ran his fingers through his thin wisps of greying hair, took another drag on a joint of roll your own shag and belched forth into verbal pap. Not sure what was really happening after this as he mercifully turned his back and as my directional hearing is crap most of his deliberations were missed, all I can glean was the following from Drillbit ' s excellent photos:

Definition of the word 'Hasher': A person who has stopped growing at both ends and is now growing in the middle.

600 run bag for Sergio, which he promptly tried to hide under his sweat shirt, problem is there is already a keg hidden in there

300 run flask for Sharnie, no rum and coke in sight! Q. Why are most Blonde Jokes one-liners? A. So that brunettes can remember them.

100 run sweaty shirt for Magane, which never touched the skin, but managed to produce a lot of: "OO, I nearly wet myself" response. "Eye, we hashers know how to keep our women moist."

Pigiron was picked on again by our dauntless RA. It appears the infirmary had left his wrist straps open and he'd managed to escape, assisted by his personal friend and minder Stainless, who apparently has an adjoining room. cast your minds back to the beer check........it appears that in Pigiron's youth he worked at the Alamein grain factory, 70 or so year ago, this was before he became a midshipman and spent a bit of time up against the mast in the days before steam and iron boats where invented and the Scottish elephant polo team were world champions at golf or something like that.

Bodsa and McCavity for daring to visit for an afternoon of cheap food and booze. Apparently he buys her running socks from Anne Summers at a bulk discount.

There is also a photo of JC and Tiger Feet getting a down down, but I do not have a clue why! Answers on a post card to Aids.

Annuli Awardus

Then came a list of yearly awards, the most notable of which is Hash Shit, something which is generally ignored by the current crop of RAs during the course of the year, but lady pressure prevails. This went to Twizzle (still not sure how this is spelt!) for being Twizzle. Numbskull handed over the bog seat explaining that he has tried to clean off the last 25 years of grime using caustic soda and an electric sander. It still needed a coat of varnish and could Twizzle apply some, and also if he could ask about to see who had previously been awarded it. And, if it wasn't to much trouble, inscribe them back on! Did the right person get hashshit?

Most On Inns back at their hoose - to Hill-Ary and Glasgow (veggie haggis gives me wind!)

Best trail - Hippo & Mrs T - AGM run (excellent trail)

Worst trail - Little Shit & Sharnie (snow up to your waist and Binliner wasn't around to get it, even though I thought his run was ok, just a bit long)

Did F* all - Sharnie, (in defence, did exactly what I did this year, including Nash Hash trail).

Most Travelled Hasher - Bruce Almighty (managed to drag AH3 reputation round and about the globe, except when touting Mearns that is)

Not deemed relevant by current mismanagement, but I believe the following should get a mention as Honouree Aberdeen ambassadors: Trouser Shredder and Plonker - organisation and mismanagement of Easter Hash Challenge - Hippo, Wotzoff, Sharnie, Mrs T, Drillbit & Little Shit - Aberdeen trail at Nash Hash.

AGM

The following account is my version, so I can vouch for its accuracy; that said, I expect the committee will issue a full and frank set of Minutes of Meeting shortly.

Hash Cash says we have lots of money in the bank, so much, she is embarrassed about the amount we have available. To try and alleviate this crisis the mismanagement has been having lavish meetings at various restaurants, night clubs and casinos around Aberdeen, but this has not created sufficient outgoings to meet the level of incoming funds. Therefore, there is push to reduce the mismanagement meeting frequencies to weekly and to form subcommittee meetings to spread the spend load. I also hear on the grape vine that a Thrupp'nies is looking at investing some of this loot in the subprime market to see if some of it can be lost there.

That was about it on official reporting, the mismanagement then resigned, at which point Aids is in complete control, if world war three breaks out he gets to press the button.

Now to the elections - Just think of a group of egotistical megalomaniacs and vote them in, and that's what we did.

A new GM or is the same one as last year, Aids, oops no, another poor dinner club secondee - Tiger Feet. Within one day can't make his first royal appointment for free nosh and beer..........

The smiling assassin again for Hash Cash - Thrupp'ny Bits.

Magane, Head Hare, re-elected un-opposed. Have to start advising those pesky hares to check with those land owners if we can cross their fields.

Handover of hash beer to Numbskull, hope he's got a separate storage area for his and the hash's. I suppose he'll have to invest in new beer chests to replace the the cracked ones that were purchased at great expense last year, and get some ice for the cooler.

Soc Sec - One Cell, wait and see, could be a dinner club favourite.

Habberdasher - Bruce Almighty, great badges and t-shirts!

Hash e-mail address - Olymprick, elected unopposed - yep, I've seen a couple of emails in the last couple of weeks, got the originals two weeks before though!

RA - Aids - elected unopposed, dinner club favourite and after dinner speaker.

Not on the agenda

Did you know a Committee is a group of people who individually can do nothing, but as a group decide that nothing can be done.

The Aberdeen 1500 hash is due on May bank holiday 2011, but never fear all is in hand, we now have in place an un-apposed, un-elected committee - Aids, Olymprick, Nipples and Magane. This is OK, because this 1500th mismanagement committee is completely independent from the current and future AH3 mismanagement committees. Errrrrr, not sure how that works, but in the spirit of togetherness they have been given £500 by the old committee to have the first of their team building events on Tuesday evening.........

Your 'umble scribe

Little Shit

Hare: Whinger

Run: 1411

Inchmarlo

17 August 09

Scribe: White Trash

A good crowd turned up at the run site including a visitor from the U.S. of A. - not surprisingly named after all first born American males, Mother Ucker -easy to remember! Oh yes.

We also had a virgin hasher, a niece of Singit or at least he claimed she was. (Singit been around for a while, see last week’s scribe. Ed)

After an on down given to Hippo who appeared to enjoy it, the pack set off in the direction of the nearest wood and hill. Good checks and on backs kept most of the pack together. The track crossed the wood and continued through woods, over bridges and streams and through fields and back on tracks. It turned out to be a long run but the weather was fine and all hashers got back to base within two hours - all except Singit and niece who turned up twenty minutes behind the tail enders.

The circle was loud and noisy, interrupted by a local yokel who claimed we were disturbing the shooting fraternity. What happened to the right to roam?

Can't remember who all got on downs so I'll leave that to the co-scribe. It was a very good and well set hash in really good terrain.

Well done to the hare!

ON! ON!

Run 1410

ON-On = Badentoy Park Industrial Estate, Portlethen

Hare = Binliner

The Hash assembled in Portlethen for the second week in a row and by 7pm a fair crowd had assembled but unfortunately this did not include the Hare or Hash Beer. The Hare arrived a minute or two late but we had to set off with only a promise that Hash Beer was on his way. It took a few attempts to find the trail out of the industrial estate and this was to be the experience at a number of the checks. There was an understanding in the pack that the day's heavy rain had obliterated some of the flour but personally I thought that we were rather silly to allow the guy with the white stick and the dog to be the front runner.

I haven't a clue were the run went but the terrain was very varied, alternating between farmland (with the ubiquitous wire fences), impenetrable forest and impassable bogs. The sweetie check was at the Boswell's Monument and some of the simpler hashers fell for the old false trail that starts at the foot of the stairs.

The run to the beer check was interesting, with Hillary standing on the wall trying to incite a herd of cattle, at the far side of the field, to charge the pack and pick off some of the back markers. We understand that he wasn't doing this from any thought of malice but that he had discovered that there probably wasn't enough beer for the number of hashers.

We staggered along the on-in; it had been a long run; and eventually the cars came into view.

We had cleared more fences in one hash than Red Rum had done in his whole career and the sight of the beer wagon was very welcome.

Congratulations to the Hare for having kept the pack together for the whole run.

There were some down-downs awarded but I was too knackered to give a shit why and had to leave in a hurry to get home because my Mum doesn't like me to be out after midnight.

RUN 1409

3rd AUGUST 2009

This week’s run at Portlethen was on a beautiful evening so there was a good turnout of fair weather hashers. Out of the 45 who turned up, all avoided being run down by trains.

A pre-run down-down was given to:

Mac for scaling the station fence and thus causing undue damage to British Rail property. Although most vandals wear hoodies and are under the age of 15, Mac shares the geographical intelligence of these youngsters as he returned far later than everyone else and appeared to be somewhat perplexed by the concept of directions.

• 750 Runs The Penguin

Thruppenies was rather concerned about the number of hashers who may be returning to her house for food afterwards as it was a nice night and attempted to minimise the numbers by crossing the railway several times in the hope some would try to take a short cut across the line.

The run began with a big loop which passed the OnOn again and headed in the general direction of Findon.

We picked up a cliff top trail which took us past a lifeboat graveyard, where the juvenile minded amongst us sniggered as the boats were made by "Schat". Everyone met up at the beer stop, although there were no sweeties. The railway line was crossed for the fourth time to take us back to the On Inn.

Down-downs were given to

• Hillary for his impatience at the start, pointing to his watch and saying it was ten seconds past seven and why weren't we forming a circle.

• Skinhead was given a down-down for causing the RA's confusion with names for Mac's pre-run down-down.

• Skinhead and Coo's Tail were awarded down-downs for being posers with their HHH spare wheel cover on their 4x4. This caused Olymprick and Sperm Burp much confusion en route to Dundee earlier in the week.

• Christianne and Alison were given down-downs for saying "you're so competitive" and "you're so sweaty". No-one could decide on a lewd enough hash handle for Christianne, who did her 10th run this week, so it will have to wait.

• Mac received ANOTHER down-down for arriving late back to the circle having misunderstood the checks.

• Nina, a first time runner shared her down-down with Nipples, who deserved it for trying to coax some non-hash runners to join him on the run (probably female).

• A congratulations down-down was given to The Penguin who has now completed his 750th run- congratulations!

• The final down-down went to the hare Thruppenies for setting a good run, and being relieved that not all 45 were returning to her place for grub!

Koje Bell x

A mighty pack gathered at Tyrebagger on this glorious July evening for a nice little jaunt through the forest. Olymprick, myself & The Penguin arrived in the Stovie Chariot with a low fat selection of goodies from the Bakery. While the vultures were tucking into pies & stovies, Nipples was spotted zooming into the car park at an alarming rate of speed. Seems there was a near miss of a hash crises of monumental proportions. Nipples was on his way to the hash with all of the beer and snacks but his spanky new Land Rover didn't feel like going to the hash tonight. Not one to be deterred by his engine blowing up, he managed to secure another vehicle in record time and get the beer to the hash. Whew!

The pack was called to order and the first order of business was Megane pimping out her daughter’s new show on BBC2. Then over to AIDS who awarded an award that had already been awarded. Over to the hares who promised a short, well-marked trail (and in all fairness if the pack had found the right trail it probably was a pretty short run). With that, the intrepid hounds were off.

Well, 99% of the pack didn't go the right way and found ourselves on a very scenic tour through every inch of that forest. We found lots of flour only it was in every direction that the trail didn't go. Back checking & falsies a plenty on this balmy summers eve. On a very long and muddy falsie, Trouser Shredder, Cinders, Little Shit, Just Julian and yours truly decided to just head towards the light at the top of the hill and found ourselves in a very thick field of heather. Little Shit called from across the distance that he had found a path so we managed our way out of the heather thicket and onto a nice dirt foot path. Cries of On On came from in front of us in the distance and before long we were back on the hash trail. For about 2 minutes until we found ourselves on another long falsie again. Damn.

The hash gods were finally smiling down on us and we found the beer check. Until it was discovered there were only 20 beers for 30+ hashers. It almost came down to mud wrestling for beer! Yikes! A lovely beer stop and then back to the end for down downs.

At this point I'd like to issue a public apology to the pack for not tooting the hash horn as much as I should have done on this fine evening. Such a fine evening in fact that the heat gave me sweaty palms and the little rubber blowy thingy kept slipping out of those sweaty palms. Didn't matter though as I wasn't on on most of the time anyway, I just thought I was.

Reassembled at the car park down downs went something like this:

• Me for refusing to wear the orange scribe vest during the run because it clashed with my shit hot blue running vest

• One Foot’ for being a fancy cat and wearing her finest pearl necklace to the hash, did Dick give it to her?

• Cannae B’Arsed for trying to rename One Foot’ Pearl Necklace and hopelessly screwing up that attempt

• Just Julian for foolishly allowing himself to be led astray by AIDS on trail.

• Whinger for a whole bunch of blood on trail

Someone for joining ranks with the other pensioners, but I didn't take note of who it was because Struth and I were having a private party and not paying attention. Sorry!

• Smiler for being very late and trying to find trail on her own. Poor little lamb, she didn't know what she was in for!

• And finally our hare Oneliner.

Great hash and great fun!

On On

Sperm Burp

400th award Struth,

200th award Bruce Almighty

RUN NUMBER - 1405

HARE - Megane

Either fresh or jaded (you choose) from my recent triumph on the 3 Peaks, like it or not, first Monday of July hails the beginning of the school holidays. So your Scribe rocked up to Drum Garden Centre in the pouring rain, complete with wife and a small selection of the combined child compliment.

Undeterred by the temporary downpour, Numskull immediately singled me out as a likely candidate for dual tasking - running and remembering events at the same time - swiftly handing over the day-glo waistcoat and horn.

Failing to execute any of the rest of his GM duties,

Numskull then handed over to Aids, in order to facilitate the awarding of a truly unique Hash T-shirt. Using the combined computing powers of NASA and that Swiss Neutron Collider thingy, the boffins on the Committee had calculated that tonight would be the night when AH3 celebrated the landmark event of hosting its 50,000th runner. The rabbit pulled out of the hat was Sir Dedmund Hillary, who donned the gifted garment with some style and then accepted his Down-down , while Olymprick showered him with mud from the nearest available puddle.

Megane thereafter intimated that we should run quickly because the pub would be stopping serving food around 9pm. Not a soul subsequently paid the slightest bit of attention to that instruction.

The run itself was a superb feat of imagination and ingenuity within a relatively small area.

Well done Megane.

The surroundings were beautiful and the beer-stop impressive (at the Castle) and in between times we even got the rain to stop!

Initially, I coped well enough with ensuring that my welly-clad step-son came to no grief in the wet underfoot conditions, while still managing to keep up with the body of the Hash. However, combining that task also with conversion with Olymprick quickly proved far too much for the OneLiner brain. So an intrepid trio of Diddy sized Hashers quickly became separated from the pack. No problem to them, though. Just follow the trail. Easy enough until we came upon an arrow pointing exactly 180° back to where we had just come from. Ho-hum.

I confess that this was just beside the Castle and that if we had bothered our backsides moving forward by about another 100 yards, we may have stumbled upon the beer. However, deep conversation on many and varied topics at many and varied levels (including NOT explaining the lurid logo on the back of Olymprick's t-shirt to a somewhat bemused 9 year old) saw us simply taking the first available route back to the car park. There, we met Pig Iron, who had clearly completed his quota of steps for the day by then too.

After a short discussion between us, with beer, on the architectural merits and demerits of the new Garden Centre building, the remainder of the Hash returned to elevate conversation to its usual base level.

Down-down's were then awarded to the following:-

• Bungee Finger for visiting us from Oman.

• Oneliner for single handedly defeating the combined forces of the Atlantic Ocean and the most vicious Mountain peaks in the UK in a middle aged style , world record shattering type performance - maybe.

• Numskull for omitting some of the usual GM duties at commencement of the run.

• Twizzle for wearing his mortuary tag before death.

• Sperm Burp and Hippo - “the Lairig Ghru (some) 2 (some)” for unsuccessfully negotiating a boulder field and being blessed by the local Mormons respectively.

• Tonguey for arriving promptly at 8.35!

• Aids for thinking ahead and leaving a beer fridge in his car - which then went to the Lairig Ghru without him.

• Bruce Almighty (courtesy of Olymprick) for only bringing half of his face to the party (sorry Bruce, just how it was told).

On On

OneLiner

Run 1404

Monday 30th September 2007

Deeside Golf Club

Hare: Hillary

Scribe: Whinger

On a warm, balmy evening (can this be Aberdeen?) my geriatric brain failed me again and I overshot the on-on. After several fruitless cul-de-sacs in Cults and getting directions from another geriatric I spotted the miniscule AH3 sign and arrived when the circle was in full swing. I'm too late for announcements and introductions to new runners but just in time for them to be told “and this is Whinger - tonight's Scribe”.

There was a pre-run down down to someone for something (Cannae B'arsed 50th run T shirt. Ed) and then - over to the Hare. Amazingly, Hillary had all the run blurb on crib notes which he referred to frequently and at length explained for the benefit of the new runners the true meaning of blobs of flour, etc, etc. Oh, and keep the noise down in the field full of bulls, in case WE alarm THEM.

Off we went for a Deeside run in Cults. Those who anticipated being on the Deeside Way, along the River Dee for a bit and a variety of streets in Cults were not to be disappointed. As Numbskull knows, it's just a matter of choosing the right direction to head along the river, or in his case, the wrong one (again).

After a path through the woods that appeared to have been recently made and neatly raked just for the hash, a check aroused consternation. “What the ****'s this” says CBA looking down at hieroglyphic symbols in flour. Despite Hillary's copious notes he hadn't mentioned what?? Meant (or so it looked). None the wiser we hashed on. There was a high route for those on trail and a low alternative for SCBs. Over a deepish ditch, or into it for some, then into the field of bulls. The hare was there to urge caution and silence but the bulls were somewhat disinterested. Not so disinterested were the cows later encountered down by the river, where a bellowing Silly Cow brought the pack to an abrupt halt.

Then back to the old railway line with a few loops over the bridges and a Sweetie Check before we hit the streets of Cults. Eventually, the Beer Check is a welcome break on a hot, sweaty night as we chugged down Baillieswell Road. The hosts are lapsed hashers Fabrizio & Mrs F.

Megane made a wrong turn and ran into the wrong garden for the beer check, blindly followed by 3 of her boyfriends. It is not known if they were offered beer. A down down was awarded at the beer check to the Fabrizios.

The On Inn was at Hillary & Glasgow's abode where we got a great BBQ and Trampolining Display for a small charitable donation.

Down Downs were awarded by various guest RAs as follows:

• 1. Megane (in absentia) and her 3 Hasherteers for beer check navigation errors. Twizzle and Lights Out did the honours for the errant 4.

• 2. The Duchess for asking if the new Tesco being squeezed onto a postage stamp site in Cults would have a petrol station.

• 3. Binliner for doing real running to get to the hash.

• 4. Olymprick - Long story this and you couldn't make it up! Olymprick, Oink and The Penguin - “quiet” drink in Stonehaven (by train) - Last of Summer Wine stuff - nice enough so far. After liquor, Olymprick finds mini-scooter - downhill ramp -crash - left pinkie knacked. Need taxi to hospital - they find “abandoned” case of Tennants lager - shambles getting selves and lager into taxi - donate lager to driver? Good contender for Down Down of the Year?

• 5. New Runners, S'Garry and Tulip I think, or was it Two Lips?

• 6. Twizzle for getting his 2004 Houston T-shirt 5 years on.

• 7. The Hare

8. Lewis, Numbskull's No.2 son, for coming to the On Inn covered in shiggy despite not being on the run.

Monday 22nd June 2009

OnOn - Knockburn loch, near the 5 stanes circle

OnInn - not announced

Hares - Sergio and One Foot

What do you do when you are GM and nobody has any respect for hashing anymore - look around the circle and give the scribe to someone who you know is still stupid enough to produce one.

So here it is in all its glory - pre-run down down to

Cinders for (666) six hundred and sixty six runs, well done, at least getting a Gillet that fitted, I suppose the days of sticking a badge on an old offshore XXL quilted work jacket have gone! Long live Harley, god bless him and long may he be in far of lands....

The weather was iffy, but fine enough to hash in and as frequent hashers will know, the scribe also gets to toot the tooter during the hash. So I tried my best and tooted when on flour - the trail set off in an anti-clockwise circuit of the small loch and the back westward up to the road, not as a few other hashers seemed to think, headed over the hills east towards the sea.....

A steep climb through the woods, and over the first of a prodigious amount of barbed wire fences, across a field with cattle in, and then onto a couple of hundred yards of tarmac (I think there is a stone circle in the field, but we didn't go near it - I'm a bit of an amateur archaeologist and like that sort of thing). At this point it started raining, warm rain, and as Sergio pointed out "it's unusual to run in the rain and it's warm". No hill and more barbed wire fences - at this point the pack stopped calling (not that they had been much before this juncture) and I didn't get chance to toot again for a wee while, cause I was off trail, "tut, tut" I hear you mutter!

Around about this point, (I think) Cinders and Trouser Shredder where so intent on trying to get the pack to do a falsie they couldn't hear Cannae B’arsed calling "checking from here" way back up on the top of the hill. Their ploy mostly worked, they got me down there, but as part of my 'job of the day' as toot master, I managed to stop most of the pack doing the same.

The pack tootled around the woods for a while before slowly reforming near the five stanes circle, a time to reform and regroup.... not likely, Farmer had mysteriously returned to the pack after being missing since the start, must have thought the sea was too cold -he checked South West from the circle, Trouser Shredder, Cannae B’arsed and Cinders spread out North East. Farmer calls "on on", quietly, just in the frequency range of women's hearing. Then Trouser Shredder shouts, "OnOn Called" Most of us heard Trouser Shredder, but not Farmer - Yep, we all run North East.......... By the time we realised the calling errors, the trail had gone silent. Some stayed on the road, I went back to the circle and followed hash spoor through the woods to the beer check.

Beer check - pear cider, John Smiths chemi - poor choice.

On back to the cars. Not much to say other than a good trail spoilt by the pack, so I hope they got a down down for setting a good trail as I wasn't around to witness it.

OnOn

Scribe

Little Shit

Your scribe arrived just in time at the stadion at Milton of Crathes, and was awarded the prestigious scribe vest and horn to blow every and any time on flour (hoot-hoot!). Unfortunately, your scribe was not awarded with a well-deserved pre-run down-down for his talented and much appreciated car driving and parking skills (hooot!), because there was an even more deserving hasher in Hippo (hoot-hoot!) who was awarded his 750 run's commemorative plaque (hoot-hoot: get a life, man!).

Hare, Drillbit, always prepared to set a good run, announced that the on-on was eastwards, and so we all went (hoot-hoot!), but when did they "go east" (apart from Swedish Vikings afraid of the open sea, and Russians in search of colder climates, or their invaders in search of defeat and death)? So soon we were somehow turning around at the Stonehaven (Slug) Road (hoot-hoot!), then more sensibly westwards (hoot-hoot!), and over the North

Deeside Road (hoot-hoot!), and up to The Neuk (hoot-hoot!). Not having started with a drink (hoot-hoot!), I was still worried when I saw enormous Neuk Sheep with big ears and stretched necks, and got some cryptic Buddhist hint (allegedly they Lamas?). Anyway we run around and round into wood (hoot-hoot!), and more wood (hoot-hoot!), eventually into the Crathes Castle grounds (with beautiful Rhododendrons growing along the Bo Burn, hoot-hoot!) across the Bo Burn Pond and to the beer stop (hoot-hoot!), and then a short way back to the on-inn from there (hoot-hoot!).

Your scribe arrived late and missed the bulk of the circle, but still saw

Little Shit get a down-down for God knows what, and got one himself to get one for diligently applying the hash horn (hoot-hoot!), in the general interest of the (hashing) public, allowing this to always know where to find LUM (hoot-hoot!), and always to know where the track was (hoot-hoot!) (In spite of his commendable unselfish efforts Lum was assaulted early on during the run by a Trouser Shredder, but valiantly defended the hash horn and the ensuing responsibility (hoot-hoot!)).

After the run and circle, Drillbit had organized 'picnic', all for no apparent reason, and no pay, so this was as expensive to the Scribe as the run had been (hoot-hoot: Hash-Cash aint what Hash-Cash used to be!)

On-on! LUM

Run 1400: Write up

Date: 1st June 2009

Hares: Numbskull / Olymprick

Scribe: Twizzle

1st of June and the weather gods decided it was to be a sweater, headed off to start point in blinding sunshine, arrived to be greeted by solitary Megane, who directed us to alternative car park rally cross centre.

As the pack assembled spotted Sergio attempting to stretch, this so distracted a couple of chav racer's that the pack now numbering about 30 was treated us an exhibition in bad driving, only narrowly missing Sergio and a few others.

GM, Head Hare and stand in RA (GMHHSRA) blew his horn and assembled the pack for the pre-run as I had not scribed for a while I thought I would do my oratory duty and promptly volunteered only as had F**K to do, both Hares donned head touches and requested why no hashers had brought them? One look at the sky would have told them so, I don't recall that was on the E Mail and neither did 3penny bits.

The Pre-Run lube was awarded to The Penguin for lying under cars very appropriate obvious now that GM had organised the rally show, only safe place in Hazlehead park is under your car!

A 2nd pre-run Lub was also awarded, but senile dementia has erased that snippet. GMHHSRA announced that it was a short run as he only used a single bag. No back checks but some long false trails.

The pack set of in the indicated direction, the only problem no spots 1st check was reached and the pack split hunting the while droppings no joy though. Just as we thought it was over the way was opened and the pack entered suburbia, still an absence of visible flour and much charging about aimlessly. Eventually, it was observed that all spots were hidden behind lampposts trees or other structures about 100m apart so one needed to run backwards to locate them? Great a Leonardo De-Vinci trail, maybe this was an initiation ceremony for the Holy Alliance?

Well as the sun shown on the athletic and mostly sloth like Aberdeen’s finest the flour actually started to be more distinctly placed, could the weight of the single bag been too much for our hare.

Well, the trial led across Skeen road into past the old burn and on through a rather strenuous trip back to the cemetery well it was for me! Anyway as we passed on by mighty Crem the beerstop came in on the radar! It certainly was welcome as my tongue had swollen due to the unseasonal weather. What a sight greeted the motely pack there was our magnificent pie man with a selection of starter piles, two who trays of Sarnies and lashings of ginger beer (Well mainly Alcoholic but had to mention the famous five!) even the hare arrived travelling by bike of course. Did he lay this run backwards? Such minor abuse was swiftly overlooked as the starting hoard leapt into grub.

There followed a leisurely trial back to the car park.

A mighty sight greeted us more pies crates of ale and even champagne! What a feast. The glorious sun bathed the sweaty bodys, the beer flowed, the champagne popped, the pies gorged, the sarnies gulped even Sergio could not eat anymore! A bit of ribbing went on and the circle was called to order by GM, acting RA, and Hare.

Now if only I could recall the down-downs must have rubbed shoulders with Numbskull and got a bit of senile dementia so here goes.

• Trouser Shredder 350th award!

• Someone snitched on The Penguin for leaking in the clients bunk, he declined to reveal the real reason,

• Twizzle for having a birthday is a few days, Leeky Willie for being there,

• Oneliner new shoes shared by some unfortunate,

• Sergio did he get one!.

Then the inaugural run scribe sheet was read out interesting? And then a competition to find the earliest hasher in attendance was it through-penny bit's! Several of the old guard got a down-down and it all started to be a bit dull like the greyness affecting the snitching and fabrication of charges from the circle. Or maybe the buffalo effect on my cells. Fortunately before we all sunk into a circle stupor, Cannae B’arsed took the guest RA spot and started lashing out pie downdowns and general abuse alas I cannot recall who received them.

Hares Olymprick and Numbskull as well as some others, were brought to court. Olymprick, now produced his master play not only pies, booze and sarnies, Hawaiian Garlands but furniture as well a dual seat worthy of kings the 1400 settee! was rolled out now came who may hashers could sing on the settee I recall we were getting bored at 14 but then came the best bit with the 3 super charged tomatoes sauce and a water pistol well soaking the orally challenged hashers. A mild pie chucking war also started. Eventually the circle started drifted away, but not before Sir Deadman Hillary demonstrated his tire abuse skills to the Hazlehead under 21 Rally club with his grown up's car. Must be needing a down down this week then.

So at 1400, it might be a bit Greyer, certainly a lot older, possibly a bit slower but certainly not dull. On On to this week, and to the 1500!

Twizzle.

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 give 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 too bad a job!

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

OnOn

Scribe

Little Shit

200^th award Plonker

AH3 run 1395

27 April 2009

Location: Old A90 at Cove

Hare: Nipples

1395 is a memorable number. Something really important must have happened in 1395, but I couldn't think what. It was too late for the crusades, the Scots were no longer being hammered by King Edwards, and it was too early for the wars of the roses or the renaissance. Anyway, the run...

The first Monday run of the hash year saw a motley crew of Aberdeen's finest, kitted out in their best winter running togs. “Turned out cold again.” The auld mannie in the auld Jag got proceedings underway, and off we went down the low road to Dundee. Nipples promised us he had reduced the trail from its original 9 miles, but I'd thought I'd better make mental notes of the local landmarks, in case darkness descended before we got back to point A. Not that there was anything of note in the first part of the trail, a blasted desert-like expanse worthy of the Middle or Far East, but this turned out to be the “new Pittodrie”. “Did Marco Polo discover china in 1395?” I mused as we ran towards the bleak outskirts of Cove, where no hasher could recall setting trainer before. Or was it the when the Vikings discovered America?

With the sea to our right, we guessed that Nipples had set a left-hander, and so we felt more certain of getting to the on inn at the Ghillies Lair in time for a steak. (Joan of Arc meeting a fiery end?) Some harriettes were short-cutting across the railway bridge in Cove village, but I kept on the one true trail to the dead centre of Cove. (Onset of the Black Death?) Here a cunning U turn (if you want to) back along the coast caught out White Trash who was not for turning, and might never be seen again.

Hillary was in two minds about stopping off at the Cove harbour hotel, but pressed on to the smugglers' harbour. I didn't think much of the harbour - the waves were all piddling and small. There were no wrecks and no people drowning, in fact, nothing to laugh at all. But we did seek further amusement by climbing the cliff, where we saw the famous fishhook and a brief glimpse of three front runners. Was this a sign? (Discovery of the Turin shroud?) The trail led us to the railway line, through hillbilly territory. Fortunately we only had time to exchange a few words of welcome (have you seen Deliverance?), as the hare was hurrying us on so he could point out the dramatic coves along the next part of the trail. (You see them from the train, Nipples!)

After skirting a large working sand quarry, we had beer check on the road surrounded by quarry spill, sand, dust and tarmac. Very romantic. A flat road jog back to the beer, completing the figure of 8. I say beer, but all the Speckled Hen and Tanglefoot had gone - bad show for a trail set by Hash Beer.

Down-downs, or rather pass-it-rounds, were awarded to the half of the hash who had recently taken the Balmoral 50 k challenge, the Bogandriep white water challenge, the Easter challenge and the Alvie weekend challenge instead of sticking with Aberdeen's premier H3 challenge.

A real down-down for Meganne who made a boob by confessing that seeing fat guys in tight T shirts at the Colyumbridge hotel really brought the colour to her cheeks. At this point, for once, Lights-out seemed to be talking sense, although I can't make sense of the note I wrote down of what he said. (Gutenburg invents the printing press?) Twizzle was definitively talking nonsense about his buffalo theory of beer drinking however.

Finally, Blind Doug or Black Spot, our TNT visitor, said he was disappointed that there was no Olymprick on the run. I didn't expect that! (Pope Boniface inaugurates the Spanish inquisition?)

See you on next week's run: May the fourth be with you!

T.Rex Cock

Last Sundy run

A to B Run: Somewhere between Aboyne and Tarland to Loch Kinord

Hares: Farmer & Harley

When Hares go to foreign places, they pick up all sorts of strange things.

Hare Harley introduced the run with much talk of cross-fertilising with the Danes (not sure that was the place for him to reveal his private life!) and fishhooks.

Oh well, it was his last run with AH3 (for a while) and it was his official 750th AH3 run, so it was only right and proper to humour him. A nice silver tray was presented to Harley at the circle for his 750th, although Farmer astutely pointed out that Harley had been doing much of the counting and cash collecting over those 750 runs. Anyway, thanks, Harley, for all your Hash Cashing and counting work for AH3.

When Thrupennies announces her 750th next week, suspicions may be aroused - talking of which, 3 nipples were prominent in the circle as Nipples and Thrupennies modelled tee-shirts that they had auctioned for.

150 runs for Lights Out.

Numskull conducted in his expert manner the circle in a glorious sunny location, which like all good things had to end, in this case with a call to board the bus to Scott's Skinners where feasting and drinking cooling beverages continued. If that sunny day was a winter run, can't wait for the summer runs!

Hares Farmer and Harley announced at the beginning of the run that they were not going to run with the pack, so they missed, after a rather uncertain clamber up through trees, a good gentle downhill run, with a sweetie stop at the top of a hill with views towards snow covered Lochnagar and Loch Kinord in the distance - and some distance it looked but was soon reached and found to be the site of the beer stop.

Little did we realise that many fishhooks lay between that hilltop and that beer stop. Personal thanks go to Threadbare who managed twice to be just in front of me each time we reached a fishhook, which mean that he, not I, drooped shoulders and dawdled to the back the pack!

Unlike the Hares’ last attempt at an A to B run, this time the run actually ended at B. After 750 runs, it seems that Harely now knows that B is not supposed to be A. Go cross-fertilise that! See you in the autumn!

Toy Boy Tom

Run Number: Don't know

Date: 12 April 09 (Easter Day)

Hare: Whinger

Scribe: Threadbare (again)

A somewhat depleted Hash congregated at Inchmarlo on another sunny spring-like morning. Many of the usual suspects were away, some were opening their Easter eggs, some were modelling their new Easter Bonnets, others were rolling their eggs and some were having their eggs rolled - like all naughty Easter Bunnies - however, the saddos were away at the Easter Challenge - challenging each other presumably; but to what, the Inchmarlo crowd were less than dis-interested in. We had the delights of the Inchmarlo water treatment plant to enjoy. Interesting to note how once upon a time this would have been called a sewage treatment plant.

Anyhow, the first obstacle was to find the flour. Having to lay the trial 3 times in parts indicated the lack of enthusiasm the Deeside residents have for hashing - but that was before they saw our fine athletic forms. The route was indeed Deeside at its best, woodland paths, rivers, burns, rock-outcrops and lanes - not necessarily in that order A well laid trail had All Because and Hippo well ahead, whilst the small in stature The Penguin and Olymprick were never far behind, Indeed, Olymprick had the irritating knack of turning up at checks before some of our more honed athletes. Despite flour spoiling activities, the trail was lost only a couple of times with unlikely heroes in the form of T Rex, Cock and Numbskull sniffing out the way to go. However, true to form, Numbskull did get catastrophically lost and was last seen on the wrong side of a stallion's enclosure - why All Because decided to follow him is unclear. The beer check was sign-posted with high voltage electrical signs - a useful deterrent, and the Walkie-Takies timed their arrival to perfection. Mrs T, Thruppenies, Dutchess and Diane all appeared in unison.

At the circle, Sergio and One-Foot were given down-downs for turning up on their bikes in tight lycra - though why should anyone object to tight lycra? Hippo was done for failing in his attempt to be a trick-cyclist and has brought a new meaning to the 'black and blue'. All Because was done for indecision as to whether it was a good or a bad or a good or a bad run. T Rex Cock was done for singing in 3 part harmony(?) all on his own. Finally, Mr & Mrs Whinger were congratulated on setting an excellent run through lovely countryside and the company then retreated to - well, you know where.

Threadbare

16 April 2009

AH3 RUN 1391

Countesswells, Aberdeen

My unofficial 750th run!!

Hare: Goat Wrestler & Koge Belle

The Harley came out for this run as it was a sunny and not so cool day. I left the house a wee bit early so arrived at the On On at 10:25 to be met by a confused looking Sat Nav mulling around. She said well I am of for a cup of coffee as the hash is well and truly over. Turned out that Sat Nav hat put her clock back 1 hour so was 2 hours adrift and hence the confusion.

All the rest of the pack turned up in time, The Penguin brought a visitor, dressed up like a vicar, definitely a week too early for the Copenhagen Hash House Harriers Vicars and Tarts run over Easter. Have I not mentioned that with the close of the AH3 winter season, I will not be running with AH3 until September and even then I might not be around as I should be in Singapore, so should be a fitting temporary end to my AH3 running career at the this year’s end of season A to B run on Sunday 19th April. I volunteered to be scribe so as to record events during my 750th run as this year’s mismanagement moto is not to issue awards on the day it is due!

So at the appointed time,

Olymprick got his birthday down down, 21 again and off we went on this seemingly just out of town run.

Well was I wrong, Goat Wrestler managed to fox us all, this run went places I have never been before and was skilfully executed. A bit of road running, on tracks and off tracks and on to the beer check where we caught up with the walkie talkies.

At the On On, more beer dispensed and some punishment dished out by our trio of RAs for the day. To name but a few,

• Southern Belle for some infraction or another.

• The aforementioned Sat Nav for turning up early thinking she was late etc. must be a certain woman thing.

• All Because for turning up late with a lame excuse having to take young child to Sunday activities.

• Toy Boy Tom for having caught by camera and displayed in the newspaper escorting other hasher’s wife or partners, no plausible defence given,

• Hippo, Sharnie and Southern Bell, for something to do with mighty horses or some sort of other events,

• Cannae B’Arsed for naming a tree after a shovel and looking for a forked tree to match and finally the hares,

• Goat Wrestler and Koge Belle for a very imaginative run, my vote for best run of March 2009, well it was only the 2nd run for me this month with holidays and all

On-On last Sunday run 19th April

Harley

Run: 1390

Date: 22nd March 2009

OnOn: Tillyfourie

Hare: Threadbare

T'was a nice bright morning to be out for a drive, singing along to Frank Sinatra, whilst keeping an eye out for a hash sign. Noticed a yellow shirt draped over a garden fork and decided someone was having a break from digging - but no, this was a cleverly thought-up alternative to the traditional wooden (and currently missing I presume) hash signs. Luckily the layby in question was accessible from either end so I didn't have to upset my brake pads too much.

I was early, having left home before any other sign of life forms had left their pits. Hrmpf. Happy Mother’s Day. But I was not the first to arrive; several fathers were already there, and none of them claimed to be aware of the important date in the calendar either.

After a chilly wait for everyone the circle was called to attention and the pre-run down-down went to Twizzle for being English. Something to do with the rugby I think. Whilst he was enjoying his beer, Gusset carefully held a stick near his privates for Mad Cyclist's dog to go for. Twizzle was extremely lucky not to lose his manhood!

Aids then announced the inauguration of "Hash Pensioners Lunch". Perhaps Cinders need to put more items on that To Do list after all. Presumably it will be held at a garden centre that does a special 10% discount on Thursdays; there must be some advantages of ageing, after all.

Threadbare the hare told us the run was quite long, and not short-cuttable, so he supplied us lazy farts with a map! Unbelievably, we still managed to stray off our intended route within minutes - however, after spotting Numbskull off trail we decided to follow him.....sometime later we caught up with him and showed him on the map where he should have been. Even after seeing the map he still never found the beer check. But I understand he wasn't the only one. Some of the front runners arrived back at the cars grumbling about the beer being too well laid.

No idea what happened on the run, but the walkers (a combination of injured, recovering, and just plain lazy hashers) had a pleasant stroll.

Aids the RA shouted at us to "get into position" for the circle and handed out the following down-downs:

• "Chesty" - Gusset had to put her best bits forward

• "Mr McGoo" - Sergio was unable to see the beer wagon right under his nose

• "Mr Dyson" - Mad Cyclist was discussing hoovers with Cinders

• "Mr Good Idea" - Numbskull tried to put a hat on a dog that would take your balls off in a flash

• "Wrong shoes" - One Foot’ scored 9.9 for a stumble

• "Map Stealer" - Numbskull for cheating and still failing

• "Mr Bailey" - Lights Out for taking a photo of the beer

• "The Hare" - Threadbare - who couldn't swallow it

OnInn was back at Threadbare's pad where we were treated to Lasagne and pudding. Unfortunately I wasn't there as I mistakenly hoped there may be a nice surprise lunch waiting for me at home.......

PS Do you think it is a down-downable offence to ask the scribe to put an extra bit on the end about the previous run, as that scribe never did a write-up? Now who do you think that hasher might have been....?

None other than our very own GM, who had made himself scribe in the first place! Did you ever wonder how he got his hash handle?

Run Number: 1387

March 1st 2009

Hare: Willie Wotzoff

On On: Donmouth Carpark

Scribe: Threadbare

Dydd Dewi Sant

The usual suspects collected at Donmouth carpark on St David's Day on this lovely spring-like morning.

The scribe was selected on the basis of his familiarity of holding a horn ...which more than made up for his inability to understand how Velcro holds a luminous jacket together....velcro spavers being a relatively new option for over 55s clothing.

Numbskull and Hippo were awarded down-downs right at the start....avid readers of the wooden spoon magazine having noticed that both had misunderstood that watching the birdie when someone takes a picture means looking at the camera rather than avian passers-by.

The route meandered in and around old Aberdeen and the Don. The first mile posed a real challenge as flour on a wide expanse of grass is never easy. As blatant stupidity on the part of the front runners seemed to aggravate the Hare, new levels of total misunderstanding became de rigeur. Nevertheless, the pack seemed to scent the right direction heading to Seaton Park, through the walled garden and on round to St Machar's cathedral.

Even White Trash and Bruce Almighty were well up at this stage.

The hare had laboured on (and on) about Ha Ha's and these were encountered both on entering and leaving the park....but scarcely raised a giggle. Mrs pigIron in particular found a 6 foot leap somewhat daunting.

The journey from the park up to the Bridge over the River Don took all the stamina of Burmese POW....and the pack began to straggle at this stage. The route then swung through the science park and it was here that an element of re-grouping took place.....keenies like Trouser-shredder following the loop next to the river.....and lazy sods like Tiger Foot and the fully dressed The Penguin short-cutting straight across.

On beer was at the Brig of Balgownie. As well as beer, soft-drinks and crisps, Tunnoch's wafers were also provided. At this point some deep philosophical discussions took place on how a nation of 5 million could eat 4 million of these per week.....Aids was particularly puzzled over what was the mean, the mode and the median consumption level and why Cinders never bought him any....Suzie Nae Nicks was puzzled over what a Tunnoch's wafer was, whilst Strewth indicated family connections which might mean a ready source of free broken ones. Wotzoff then was able to list the rest of Tunnoch's fare and many reminisced over the Tea Cakes of the 1960s.....though some claimed that they were still in production. It seems that a run in the Uddingston area is more than likely. At the final circle, most of the Tunnoch's fans were rewarded with a down down for not having anything more intelligent to talk about. Megane was done for her new make-up style whilst the hare was congratulated on what was clearly the best run of March (so far).

ABERDEEN HASH HOUSE HARRIERS

RUN NO. 1385

15 FEBRUARY 2009

BACK O'BENNACHIE

HARES LITTLE SHIT & SHARNIE

SCRIBE THE PENGUIN

It must have taken the hare’s weeks to reckie such an imaginative trail - straight up the hill & back down the same track. Mind you with 2 ft of snow any false trails left or right would have been too easily detected. It wasn't the easiest of trails walking two steps on the surface and next step up to your thighs in soft snow.

The pink / orange markings looked like the puke I slipped on in Union Street yesterday but it certainly stood out better than white flour and those who made it to the top had the pleasure of enjoying great views and the guarantee of an ice cold drink.

Back at the car park I was chatting to a friendly lady with a small spaniel who was interested to know what the coloured markings were when Numbskull bellowed out “Dog Poison”. She was not amused but the dog got its own back watching Numbskull slam his boot lid down on his hot gluwien spilling inside & outside of the vehicle. How did he get his name Numbskull?

Farmer found a fine excuse not to tackle the climb by wrapping his grand child's hot body to his chest to stay warm & then to use its head as a beer table.

A strange comment heard from Wotzoff was that if it had been 2 degrees colder it would have been warmer - his theory being that the snow would have been less wet. Och! Work it out for yourself.

Welcome back to Mad Max with his dog Lethal Weapon Mk 11 who ate most of the flour on the way.

There was something about the cold that affected folks' minds and caused them to lose car keys. The first case was Trouser Shredder & Canna who locked the car keys in the car but of course they have spare keys in the house. But where are the house keys --? In the car! Call the RAC!

The second case was in the pub where a set of car keys were found in the Ladies. The keys belonged to Little Shit but what had he been doing in the Ladies?

A call was received by Olymprick this week from the Environmental Health Police Dept. asking what the blue marks were all over trees in Hazlehead Park but on this occasion he claimed to have been innocent.

There was an announcement that the run in two weeks’ time shall be at a Witches Tit. What is going to happen there I have no idea?

A very loud, unattractive, hard-faced woman walks into Kmart with her two kids in tow, screaming obscenities at them all the way through the entrance.

The door greeter says, 'Good morning and welcome to Kmart, nice children you’ve got there. Are they twins?'

The fat ugly woman stops screaming long enough to snarl: 'Of course they bloody aren't! The oldest is nine and the youngest is seven. Why the hell would you think they're twins? Do you really think they look alike, you d*ckhead?'

'Absolutely not,' replies the greeter, 'I just can't believe anyone would shag you twice!'

ON ON

The Penguin

Received by webmaster at 7:02AM Monday!

AHHH Run 1385

1st February 2009

Hare - Numbskull

I think I have missed breaking the “Cannae B’arsed” record time of getting the scribe into the website, for those who like records, Sunday after the Hash, obviously this depends on “Thrupp'ny Bits” logging on at a sober interlude!

I thought this was going to be the usual Numskull catastrophe, but having been to B&Q (paint and things) and inadvertently made the OnOn early, very early - Numskull was already there loading his bike up with beer. At least we had a hare, assuming he didn't get lost on the way to laying the beer check, with Numskull I don't think his day carerers always know where he is.

The weather was cold, as you'd expect at this time of year, but not as shitty as the BBC news would have it!

Cars started to arrive, one bringing a new runner “Alison” I believe! With mother hen Cinders in attendance I'm sure she'll come back..........

Pre run introductions and Down downs: As you'd expect, Numskull eased himself up right with the aid of his Zimmer and promptly got shouted down by the circle - no respect for age anymore!

Aids then took over and pulled a whopper from his shorts, with a gasp of surprise

Stainless accepted her 350th Quake. It only holds a couple of fluid ounces, but still ended up across the circle floor. Obviously never heard of 'over the head', “did someone say head? I'll have some of that”.

At this point I must have sneezed, cos I was picked on again by Numskull - as I mentioned earlier, got to the run too early and apparently knew where the beer check was, I'd be so lucky. As a reward I ended up with this a hooter and an orange overcoat.......

Then, as if something had jogged a memory cell, New runner, Alison was proudly introduced by Cinders (cluck, cluck).

Over to the hare, “yes Numskull, you!” Up the hill 300 hundred yards, (hoot, hoot) to a back check, the usual suspects disappeared at this point not to be seen again till the end of the run. Back down the hill, through the woods to the road, where the pack split into 2, with Drillbit saying “I'm was sure it goes this way”..... Famous last words. Back up the hill after Wotzoff and Nipples, only to catch up again at the next check, yep, they went the wrong way too!

At this point it was head down, arse up all the way to the pylons - Hare hint, turn right for short cut at the pylon. Noo way! OnOn straight on - FRBs Hippo and CANNAE B’ARSED' into more crap and shiggy, followed by Aids, Twizzle and Hillary. At this point I got into a bit of a social interlude with Twizzle, which to my surprise was ear wigged and later justly reported to the RA. Who did the cliping?

After a hard slog the FRBs met back up with the short cutters and Numskull, who was manfully using his bike to cover the distances between the 3 checks he'd laid! Hippo with a graceful, “get off your bike a walk” swiped it and rode off into the sunset (poetic licence). At least, this final section turned out to be a nice saunter to the beer check, which to my surprise was the back check we encountered at the beginning of the run.

As usual most of the beer had been quaffed by the 'never to be seen again hashers' and walkie talkies. That said for those that got a beer, it was quality stuff.

On down the 300 yards again.

Down downs:

• Bright green new shoes, £18 up from 50p - some folk always jump at a bargain - but the beer should taste better - well done “Cannae B’arsed”.

• As Hippo found out, never arrange to meet Olymprick and if you text him, he'll confirm he is not where you are -

• so to Olymprick for having a private party, (Drillbit drunk on the floor! surly not....) As I said earlier, someone cliped -

• Twizzle & Little Shit for looking at opening a massage parlour - nothing wrong with that, doesn't make us bad people!

• Hillary entertained us with a lengthy story about Numskull asking where Hillary lived............... Numskull has short memory loss and generally has to be drunk to find his way home.

OK, that's it from me.

OnOn

LS

Run: 1382

Location: Twizzle’s Car park

Hare: Hillary

Catering: Glasgow

Scribe: Cannae B’arsed

As the rheumy eyed and slightly dottled GM shuffled his way round the circle, the mutterings of “need a scribe, mmmh must think of a pre run down-down, mmmh who was that new farm hand on The Archers, oaaaaah wonder if we’ve got any visitors today. I like visitors, they don’t know me, ooooh it’s a girl! Hmmm, wonder if she’ll hold my hand?” could unfortunately be heard by all. Which probably explained the giggling which snapped him out of his revelry as he was doddering past me, the soon to be scribe.

Oh well, part 1 of the GM’s tasks were now complete and on to part 2, introduce the visitor. This did seem to cause the old dotard a bit of problems in getting his tongue round Oral Sex, but eventually he managed to welcome her into the fold of the hash, before tripping head first into part 4 and handing himself off to the Hare for today’s fabrication of reality that is the trail.

Part 3 for the more observant will come somewhere near the end.

“There’ll be 4 spots and you’re on” says the Hare. “There’ll be some back checks as well! There’ll be a sweaty/sweetie check, a beer/whiskey Mac check and a long short split and the on-on’s that way”. This is starting to sound organized we mused as we ran twenty yards right into the first back check.

Bollocks! Thought I, it’s going to be one of those runs. Which was proved to be a very accurate description of the run as the first check had a rather irate Hare decrying all and sundry for not checking the right way and then man handling Bruce Almighty down the true path to the floury trail?

After about 4 more checks I soon had it sussed that if you couldn’t find the trail inside 10 seconds the Hare would “Bloody well show you what flour looks like”. This course of action did have a profound effect on Farmer who high tailed it past several loops of the trail and discovered a Hippo emerging from the River Dee, like a wee sleekit, coo’ering timorous beesty, looking for a trail to bring him to the great chieftain oh the pudding race. Or at the very least a beer check.

Several checks later and well past the Norwood hall we suddenly find a Farmer, a Hippo and The Penguin standing at a cross roads. From here there are 3 paths you can follow says the Bard. Path 1 may take you to Garthdee and all that is wild and scary. Path 2 may take you back to the cars and miss the beer, or path 3 may take you to the long/short split and then on to inebriation. And so without a cry of on-on a Farmer and The Penguin buggered off up the hill leaving the poor Hippo wandering left and right along the road.

As we brave few front runners rounded a bend in the road a strange sight befell our eyes. It’s Harley walking the wrong way up a one way trail!

Alright, I admit it, there’s no such thing as a one way trail, but it sounds better than doesn’t he look lost. Thankfully the final slog was ahead and we reached the beer check with only a little bit of perplexity from some as to how Oneliner and Numbskull managed to short cut the short cutters. The cheek! Bloody excellent beer/whiskey Mac check it was as well.

Circle and post run down-downs were called in the rear of Glasgow’s soup kitchen where the ever helpful GM offered to be the RA for the day. Thanks to his stupendous efforts at the start I thought I’d give the old boy a rest and let him off for his afternoon snooze.

• Short cutting lazy git Down-downs go to: Farmer, The Penguin and Hippo.

• Hash crash/gash/slash/bash down-down goes to: Nipples

• Metro sexual, wife’s panty wearing down-down goes to: Hippo

• Hiding in the kitchen and eating all the food down-down goes to: Harley

• Being stupid enough to stand in as Ra down-down goes to: Cannae B’arsed

• Hash visitor down-down goes to: Oral Sex (not Blow Job as I called the poor Harriet)

I’ll stand in the circle and say “why” so that everyone can start singing “was he born so beautiful to me” down-down goes to: Numbskull

For an “I didn’t give a down-down at the start of the run” down-down goes to: Numbskull

And finally the Hare down-down goes to: Hillary

Run over and time to eat drink and not recite any poetry by Rabbie Burns whatsoever. So in that respect a truly brilliant Burns run, made a hundred times better by the bountiful feast of winter vegetable soup, and freshly culled wild haggis with chappit tatters and neeps, cooked to perfection and great abundance by Glasgow. Thanks for putting up with us all again.