I’ll Bang’er Again – R*n 856 Recovery Run

Hares; The Duchess of Cambridge and Lonely

Location; Laigueglia, Italy

Date; Sunday 1st. October 2017

The Only Way is Up

Just wish it was this simple.

The wonderful weekend continues with the R.A. ensuring just enough cloud cover to ensure ideal running weather.  Just how many will actually run though ? Or even thought they were running.

The big headache of the weekend has been fixed and I do not mean the one caused by the excessive alcohol, but how to allocate excess passengers to a finite number of vehicles. All those that want to be at the Sunday Hangover Run site are all present and correct. (Nearly).  And even a few that didn’t want to be there. They went walkabout until it was either circle, or food time.
Eventually, we were all safely assembled, raring {shome mistake there Ed } to go.  The runners set off to the West and we (the L.W.B.) Ladies Walking Brigade, headed East, meandering in and out of the quaint, seaside, touristic fleshpot which is a seething mass of oiled flesh, cooking on the beach, in the height of Summer.  We more, or less, had the narrow streets to ourselves though, and, as we were meandering at only a slightly faster speed than the local inhabitants, not causing any problems.  This is the in-trail for the runners and I  expect they will be moving a little faster than us!
The runners by now having completed their warm up loop and going through a sneaky 180 degrees with a few false trails find themselves on the walkers trail.  This joyful scenario on the flat lasted until the next check where we headed inland and up.  This seems to be a recurring theme of the weekend.  Soon clear of the houses and we were looking down upon them as we go around the contour, go up, go back along another contour, go up, back along the contour and so on until, eventually we reach a high check.  Really high, above the wonderful, old Church, at the end of the Bay with the picture postcard scene spread out below us in all it’s full panoramic glory. 
The Hare told me, it looks much better with the sun out, blue sea and sky, as it was when they reconnoitred the run.
(They reconnoitre the run site? Ed.)
 Now I  know why I  Hash, it makes the Hangover seem worthwhile.  We are faced with a choice of down, or more up, up a small mountain footpath which is the obvious way as Jack Rabbitt and Bravefart are calling us all “on,” from the dizzy heights above – Bastards.  False trail. At least those two will behind us now. We are now returning, zig zagging our way down towards sea level to join the walkers/sick/infirm and weak willed trail.  This being the walkers trails out of town and the runners way back to beer.  The  L.W.B. taking a direct B to A route back along the seafront and the FRB’s running a series of loops in and out of the town, in the narrow streets, startling the promenading Italians wrapped up warm as it is now October 1st.  Time to get the long trousers, gilet and scarf out of storage!  Then before we know it another 6km/4km trail marked off and one more the add to my total with the RH3 which means I  will soon have enough runs/walks under my belt for my personalised, engraved, pewter mug.
Thank you Colgan’s Beer for The Pirate Beer;
Coincidence or what?
CIRCLE; Down Downs awarded to recognise the efforts, stupid or otherwise, and to reward with a degree of thanks all those so honoured.
Some of those I can remember; 
Hares; The Duchess and Lonely
AirBnB in their room, subletting……….Cumalot, Heavy Pants, Perpetual Motion
Modern Fairy Tale; The Duchess explaining how he had an extremely erotic dream, or so he thought, only to wake up with a gold ring in his bed which, although not belonging to a princess, did in fact belong to the next best thing…..a harriette called Sarah Come Lately.
Short Cutting; Jack Rabbit and Bravefart. They did not like being at the back after their false trail and being competitive Bastards wanted to be at the front again.
Getting all excited and spilling beer; Jobsworth
Only person to find Saturday’s trail; Pissoles
Not running, (But very ablely stood in a Beer Bitch) Pullit
Style Guru; Sadist
Magic Staff; Wedgie and The Duchess
Locking his wife, Not Stupid, out of their room. (Is this so his invitee could scarper over the balcony? Ed.) Gorgeous Edna
Swimmers, too many to remember and for Shaving in Public, Numbskull,
Prison Skills;  Lonely, smuggling 50 Polo Shirts. (Must have been one hell of a giant condom, Ed.) 
Drank his reward from a Condom.
RESTAURANT – Pretentious but good.  Who needs to serve olive oil and balsamic vinegar in test tubes? (did you spill yours? – Ed-209)   
Then all too soon time to kiss everybody goodbye and resolve to get fit before we do it again next year.  
Praise was given to those with their heads above the parapet and a big thank you must also go to all those behind the scenes to ensure a smooth running event and also to the participants for creating a warm and friendly environment.  
Thank you all. 
You know who you are.
All Hashers are your friends it is just that you haven’t met them all yet!
And if you do not like this scribe’s effort………………………
drinking bad for health

I’ll bang’er Again – A Dogs Tail

RHHH R*n 858 – A Tall-ish Tale


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A Duchess Of Cambridge

It was the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria all over again. I was sailing to the new world, from the land of the Crêpe to the land of the Grappa. A sea change: The Gulf of Genoa. The new world where our breath slowed, ending the hot canine breath of summer. Dog days when the sea convulsed, wine turned sour, hounds grew mad, and man became afflicted with burning fevers and frenzies, the brain boiling like an egg in a bone pot.

This, my first Hash in Italy. Oh, allow me: I’m “Dog of the Hare.” I arrived with nothing but my keen wits, my good looks, and my treasure trove of many words. Plus the Hoo-hah of hope. Oh yeah, least I forget, I had my mistress “Sex Club” in tow. In this new land, she says the best disguise was to be recognizable. She’ll be wearing a yellow T-shirt when she comes…tra la la. Vita E segreti del mare dall’impressione alla scomposizione visiva – If your mind is a matzoh ball, then everything looks like soup. (Loosely translated).

We washed ashore on the Italian Riviera, a land of savages and kings. In Albenga, we were met by our new handler: The Duchess of Cambridge. E la Sua visione del mondo – And His vision of the world. A person plans and God laughs. Duchess employed a loud voice, the international carrier of communication between cultures, as well as a colourful Berlitz of inscrutable gestures. We left all control to the Duchess, the mapmaker, the navigator. It’s not good to risk mutiny by one who controls the sea. What’s the difference between God and Duchess? God doesn’t think he’s on a mission from Duchess.

I was hashing on the Italian Riviera, sniffing and leaving canine messages around unpronounceable towns of – Albenga, Alassio, and Laigueglia. Our shelter for the weekend was the Sole Mare Hotel in Albenga, a town that boasted great hamlets. Food not ever far from our gullets, I ate like a galley slave, wolfing down enough nosh for an entire year. Sea food – eat. I’d never eaten a boiled egg. I soon found a boiled egg in the morning hard to beat.

Evenings were a dog-fight, laughing, singing, puking, the happy buffeting of each other’s ears like drunken puppies, late into the night until we all collapsed in a historic heap. Time can make between-the-leg Prunes out of even the most succulent of Plumbs.

Alls well that ends well. Gratefully, we got a lift home to Cannes from Fairy Plunger and we Bonded. He talked of his favourite resto on the Italian Riviera, in San Remo. He had my muzzle flaps flewing over his favourite meal: spaghetti and lobster. He drove us home, right to my fave sniff spot.

Later at home my mistress yapped: “Hey, Dog of the Hare, now here’s a coincidence: I’m reading Le Point magazine and guess what the Canadian Prime Minister and Barack Obama ate for dinner at Justin Trudeau’s favourite resto in Montreal, the Liverpool House? Spaghetti and Lobster!” On-On till next year.

I’ll bang’er Again – Saturday

RHHH R*n 857 – An ode to Pissoles

Beer Supplier to RHHH away weekend

Who needs running, let alone hashing when you can eat Italian food all day?


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In a break with tradition from the previous year’s away weekend, Duchess at least had the grace to force feed the hash after the run and not beforehand. However, in compensation, he believed that a four course meal would only need 3 hours for digestion before being repeated in the evening.

Why this challenge, you ask? Easy, Saturday was the main event after Perpetch’s pathetically short and weedy warm up on the Friday evening. Padre, PHD and Keen Runner (as she is known in Facebook circles) had ensured that the appetite had well and truly been worked up with a bit of hill climbing and a few glorious km from Albenga to Alassio.

10h30 for 11h00 and the pack was under starter’s orders. Padre was very clear about the trail. There were no rules, except for the rules he created. Follow the flour. Check it out when you see a circle. Return to the check if you see a cross. And always stay on flour. What could possibly go wrong, Pissoles?

The run started simply enough, along the sea front and through the obligatory shiggy rather than along the road. This could not last, of course and after a wee while, the trail went up some steps. And up some more. And some more. At least it made for a good photo opportunity.


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Note the lack of running from the runners up the steps…..

It should be noted that at this point, Pissoles was remarkably well behaved, to the point of being invisible. His time would come later.

At the top of the steps, we found a cunning check with seemingly no obvious trail leading off it. This allowed the incredibly energetic Jack Rabbit time to check out all directions whilst the remainder of the pack did the decent thing – guard the check against thieves and take some more photos.

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Finally, Jack Rabbit was given some support and the pack found flour that had magically appeared since we last looked. This so surprised Deep Lunge, our visiting City Hashette, that she promptly made a slow motion fall for the benefit of her fellow hashers. She even had the scars to prove it at the end.

Fun over, the pack followed the trail along the contours until we met up with the walkers. It seemed that Gus, the famous ghost on the coast, was also being mischievous as the circles had all been marked out in the correct direction despite the runners sticking together. The intrepid pioneer FRB brigade decided to run ahead and see what dear Gus was up to. It turned out that it was a false sighting, as he was nowhere to be seen but co-hare Keen Runner had taken it upon herself to speed us to the beer stop and mark out the trail in advance.

From thereon in, it was downhill to a well earned beer stop by the local church. Wedgie was seen to enter for a quick chat with the Lord whilst the remaining hashers entered into the spirit with prosecco, beer, wine and lots of snacks….a bad idea given what was in store later. Jobsworth was overheard complaining that he only drinks after sundown. Happily, Deep Lunge obliged by reminding him that it was 7pm in Japan, so his dilemma was solved in an instant. Star of the day at the beer stop was Gus, making an apparition for the hash and wishing us well. Especially Pissoles.

Oh yes, Pissoles. Clearly he had enjoyed the beer stop too much as the second half was his. The trail wound down to Alassio and there was a very obvious regroup at a railway crossing with the barrier down for a trail to pass. So what did Pissoles do? He decided to play chicken with the train and run through the barrier in front of it (Ed – that’s a bit of an exaggeration, as the train did not arrive for a while, but it makes good print). From this moment on, he was never seen again.

The only rule of hashing is to follow trail. How hard can it be? We worried that Pissoles had hitched a lift on the train to Rome as we never saw him again, despite the circle lasting quite a while. So, in true hash tradition, we decided that he is a grown man and forgot about him.

The remainder of the second half was a jaunt around the historic centre of Alassio and ended in a childrens’ playground. Pity that Pedo was not there as he would have been in his element.


We waited for Pissoles for a long time and eventually decided to hold the circle in his name and, of course, nominate him as Shit of the Week in abstentia.

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Many thanks to the hares, pictured, for a great run. Having used up thousands of calories, it was time to destroy all the good work with rather a lot of food. And the promise of even more food just a few hours later that evening.


Postscript – Pissoles claimed that he lost the trail, kept running and running and eventually turned back when he reached the French border and was mistaken for a Syrian refugee. Likely story.


When and Where is the Next one?

Hare: Castor and Pollux (a.ka. Cumalot and Jobsworth)
Where: La Gaude Centre
When: 10.30 for 11:00 start sharp
A return to La Gaude where Cumalot and Jobsworth may be taking you on a tour of the local sites such as the sewage works and the cheese shop.
The meal afterwards will be at ‘La Guadriole’ as previously.
if you are cumming to the meal, please let me know as it will help numbers.
If you don’t want the home made Daube and Gnocci (because you are a vegetarian or like killing fish) please let me know  ASAP!
Directions, meet in the car park outside the Mairie building in La Gaude.
Map here:-

I’ll bang’er Again – Friday Evening

RHHH R*n 856 -The Tale of the Lost Scribe…

Beer Supplier to RHHH away weekend

Apart for a few early birds the reunion party started that Friday evening. People with familiar smiles but unremembered hash names arrived in throngs. Many from Switzerland, some from Ireland, newcomers from England, came to swell the Riviera flock. It wasn’t just seasonal migration; rather an annual gathering of 50 hashers to have fun and in Albenga, Italy again, where the fun can be warmer, cheaper and easier than at home. Why is it easier to have fun somewhere else?

Of course there is an age when it stops being easy to travel but we had only reached the age where the ‘D’ word becomes a problem. A sketch the next day would make reference to this. But the bright T-shirts were anagrammed with each hasher’s name, so it was not a problem today! We could greet each other like friends who had parted only last week.

The T-shirts were all yellow so distant hashers could be identified in crowded old town streets as dusk approached. So the pack could keep reasonably together and finally we lost no one. Though not all made the circle, a repeated theme for the weekend! But first what happened on the trail?

From the hotel the walkers turned left along the Italian seaside promenade while the runners turned right only to return towards the walkers. The first check took us under the railway line then right to the rural town suburbs. Some could recall last year’s route as we headed to the ‘Roman’ bridge where we re-grouped for awhile and a chat. Those who read the sign here learnt it was built centuries after the days of the Roman Empire yet long ago enough for the detritus of nature (or civilisation?) to have buried much of the bridge and probably divert the river. There was certainly no longer any water visibly flowing under this bridge and its arches looked like a glorious crown without a monarch under it. Of course today was the day from which we would no longer see another Monarch!

After the ‘Roman’ bridge we headed to the old town, where no flour, like last year, could be found through the first gate and, like last year, walkers caught up. We ran outside the walls anti-clockwise to today’s riverbanks before entering the old town, with plenty of scope for getting lost but the hare managed to keep us together, passing the old tower with regularly spaced holes above irregularly filled streets with gesticulating Italians.

We left the old town heading toward the railway station near where the walkers took a shortcut under the line but the runners looped among the road grid near a fort, never crossing the river today – this apparently was reserved for tomorrow’s trail. But one runner found his way across the river onto flour up the steps to a balcony, where a resident, enjoying the cool night air, discretely informing him that this road (to Alassio) had no lights on it. This lost sheep returned on a shortcut over the railway bridge having missed our first circle.

Run No. 851 – A King, Two Queens, Two Knaves and a pack.

Run No. 851
Location; Villefranche sur Mer
Hares; Cums Quicker and Perpetual Motion
Scribe; Anne Chovey
A King, Two Queens, Two Knaves and a pack.

What is there not to like?

Hot sunny day, semi naked people on the beach, convivial group of like minded pervs. and another shitty day in Paradise.

I notice the general economy has much improved as all, apart from one lady, were able to afford the second part of their Bikini. This fact was verified by both The Pilchard and Pimple. They assured me their research was most thorough and they had walked up and down viewing the beach contents a few times  (Shurley they should be running? Ed.)before collaborating on the results of their research.
Their thesis is now undergoing Peer revue before publication.( Never mind that, what about the photographs? Ed.)
A Busted Flush ?
A King, Two Queens, Two Knaves and a pack.
All will be revealed if you have nothing better to do and read until the end.
Dirty Dingus did the dirty on his house guest and brought him along to meet some of his friends, look at the scenery, and some gentle exercise, with a beer, or two, as a by product.
I do not think he was aware that Dirty Dingus’ idea of “Gentle,” exercise is a marathon and real exercise does not start until after that distance.
However, some of you may have read the following which was written by him soon after the event, not like this tardy offering, somewhat late.
An interesting fact……… well maybe interesting………I heard Padre explaining why we had aliases and that people could come to a Hash with their alias and relax without anybody knowing anything about them. You can not be too careful in this era of multi source electronic snooping.
Therefore, I was not too surprise to receive the following………..
A very well written,  walkers report, by a virgin, posting on an obscure site, (so I have been told.) which arrived here by way of a Hasher in Manchester posting it, then being seen by Run 2 Eat, in Scotland, who forwarded it to Phd. in Ireland who then posted it on the Riviera Facebook page. Just goes to show you can not be too careful. Mosad and the K.G.B regularly monitor these sites, so I have been told by a member of the S.A.S. who runs with a hash. But I suppose it could all be bullshit and S.A.S. is his Hash name.
As there was going to be a picnic after the run there was not the usual pressure to get the run started on time to get to the restaurant before closing, which was driving our”Anal Retentive, Padre, mad.
He said, “Just wait until later when you realise just how hot it becomes in the bay. He explained that the bay is surrounded by hills and the hot air is trapped. Well I assume he knew what he was talking about as he lived just below the fort on the top of the hill for nearly five years, where they grew bananas in the sheltered section of the garden. Before we started Padre told Steve we would probably be going to the fort. He said that would be wonderful as it looked very interesting. That was until it was pointed out that the fort he was looking at was not the one we would, in all likelihood, be visiting. He was looking at the fortification known as De La Darse but he was guided to the one at he top  of the hill Fort Mont Alban. He did not seem too perturbed as he thought Padre was not at all serious.
One fortification at sea level to the far left, and the other at the top of the hill above the three canoists.
Eventually, somebody said, “How about starting?” And, with Perpetual Motions military command of, “Off you go then, all,” with the alacrity of a “Slumber,” of Sloths, we ambled out of the car park led by the new supper fit Cumalot, and Dirty Dingus.
They remained in the lead until the first sneaky check.
As we approach the rear of the train station a few extra sloths, from the Ladies Walking Brigade were waiting as they had seen sprinklings of flour and decided against walking the half km to the start and then return again.
We also bumped into The Vicar and Flying Chicken scurrying , hurriedly, going in the opposite direction, towards the official start point.
A quick turn around and The Vicar is with the runners and Flying Chicken is with the L.W.B.
The runners discovered the walkers trail and pointed them in the right direction and continued to look for the running trail, whilst the walkers ambled away, ominously, in an upward direction. 
The trail now went toward the centre of town, along the contour, without any hint of up, which was worrying as we would soon be at the end of the bay.
Why worry? The next three or four checks were quite easily solved as we headed up. (Who in their right mind is going to check down on the side of that step hill?  Ed.) Then it was remembered that Perpetual Motion ran around the village in an extremely fetching Tutu all those years ago and was not going to take the risk of anybody recognising him. (Anybody have any photos? I know they exist somewhere. Ed.)
Next check and the only way is down and Rambling Rose, a visitor, says she is pleased all that, “up,” is over. I told her to make the most of it as the next bit was sure to be more up.
Sure enough.
Up it was, followed by more up. and yet more up. 
 But not this much !
The Vicar wished he had been a little later and he could have waited, on the beach, for us to return.
Pimple kept asking Padre which was the correct way given his intimate knowledge of the area. He said he did not know but keep heading for the Fort as the sadistic hares were sure to take us there and it was the only logical place for a beer stop.
As we ascend the last rise before the Moyenne Corniche we meet up with the walkers and together we pass the tradesman’s entrance to Villa Leopolda. 
Padre was explaining this to Virgin Steve but I could see he did not believe what he was being told, so just for him……….
(What makes you think he will read this rubbish? Ed.)
The Moyenne Corniche.
From here a gentle downward slope until we reach a the main junction, crossroads.
 A bit of scrambling around and Padre remembers the little path up to the Fort and the prime dogging area in Nice.
Pimple thinks he is hallucinating through lack of water and says he will soon have to drink his own Urine. Pilchard told him to hang on because the Beer Stop is nearby and Pimple says what’s the difference as it all tastes like piss anyway.
For those of you that missed it last time here is the celebration of Dogging.
I have never seen the pack stick so close together as the pack ran in and out of the miriad of pathways surrounding, The Queen’s house. i.e. Sir John’s summer place. Even Dirty Dingus was waiting for us thinking there was safety in numbers.
Which reminds me of an unsettling, recent experience………..
After my recent Prostate Exam, which was one of the most thorough examinations I’ve ever had, the Doctor left and the nurse came in. 
As she shut the door, she asked me a question I didn’t want to hear…..She said…
“Who was that guy?
From here 
a gentle amble, down the slope, to the beer stop at the end of the road, as we join all the French families picnicking away from all the tourists on the beach.
Part 2.
Beer stop finished and the walkers sent on their way leaving the runners to indulge in another beer before they to leave but in the opposite direction which means we go around the backside of Elton’s house, if you know what I mean. A big loop and we are back onto the walkers trail and a gentle -ish run  down to sea level and a km or two run in.
Dirty Dingus clocked it at 11.5km and I had to explain to The Vicar that just because last summer he ran a similar distance, he was just unlucky and that we do not normally run that far.
If God wanted me to touch my toes, he would’ve put them on my knees.
Apparently three out of four people make up 75% of our population.
Down Downs; (I was not expecting to have to write this rubbish and I did not take any notes, so I can not remember them all. Those I can are below.)
2 Knaves; The Hares Cums Quicker and Perpetual Motion.
New Hasher moved to Nice; Rambling Rose.
Queen of the Hash, (Brian May) Padre for something but I do not know what.
Big 50 Cums Quicker
Beer Stop something. Farty Bum
Shit of the Week ?????
But this person should certain be nominated…….
Then it was Champagne and Birthday cake and yummy picknic type food.
I seem to remember the Salmon dish brought all the way from Norway, courtesy of Flying Chicken and The Vicar, disappeared extremely quickly. I wonder what it tasted like. It went that fast.
And more yummy stuff.
My wife phoned me all in tears and said, “You’d better come to the hospital I’m about to have your baby.”
I replied, “But it’s the Man United Liverpool derby tonight love!”
She said, “Record it and watch it later.”

You should have seen her face when I turned up at the hospital and dropped off the camcorder and tripod.”

When and Where is the Next one?

Run 853

The hares – Supermarket Trolley and Farty Bum

Meet at 10h30 for 11h00

Venue – Villeneuve Loubet, off the roundabout on the Grasse / Roquefort road. 

HHHi Hashers,

Next hash, brought to you by Supermarket Trolley and Farty Bum, will be held in Villeneuve Loubet, starting from the area off the roundabout with the cut-out of the cavalier on the Grasse/Roquefort road.

There are three roundabouts along this road – one at the exit from the auto-route coming from Nice, one at the college/salle des sports/ media-tech etc (which is the one with the cut-out cavalier), and the third roundabout is the one by the bridge entering the village of Villeneuve Loubet.

When you turn in from this cavalier roundabout, go to the left, past the football field, police station, college etc and continue back behind where the parking lots are.  We decided to use the media-tech parking this time, which is more to the left than the one we’ve used at other hashes.

Time will be 10:30 for 11:00. 

More precise directions may be posted later in the week, but most of you know where it is.

Contact numbers: 

Supermarket Trolley  06 14 67 79 87

Farty Bum  04 93 20 22 91

See you there!


Run Report 852 – 10/9/2017

A Doggone Shame

The French Riviera 2017. One of the hottest summers ever and certainly one of the driest. Politicians are fighting over climate change and how to react to it but none have an idea how to solve the drought. This is because politicians are not hashers and have never heard of Jobsworth the rainmaker. Two of the biggest downpours this year have now been recorded on the days he has set his hashes.

Padre had very kindly offered to assist as a hare and the pair of them boldly set out, flour in hand, to set a beautifully marked trail on the Saturday morning. Meteo France warned of a possible storm in the afternoon but the two seasoned hares were sure that they had taken all necessary precautions by placing the flour in strategic dry areas. Hash set, they settled down to enjoy their Saturday afternoons and……the heavens opened.


Now, I know that hurricane Irma is God’s way of reminding Donald Trump to look after the planet and especially the USA, but Irma is nothing compared to the deluge that beset Sophia Antipolis. Taking of which, what did hurricane Irma say to Florida? “I’ve got my eye on you”. Or what did the hurricane say to the coconut tree? “Hold on to your nuts, this is no ordinary blow job”.

Anyway, I digress. Tropical storm Gisbert had wiped out all the trail so a good group of hashers gathered in the bright Sunday sunshine to be informed that Padre had gone on ahead to live hare the runners’ trail. Jobsworth would shepherd the walkers on the first half with Jessie the dog.


A storm or a cute dog. Which could cause more drama on the hash? The runners set off following Padre’s newly marked trail, with Finnish Fly shackling herself to Pilchard to ensure that he did not repeat the ungentlemanly act of the Cap d’Antibes run where he deserted her as she was rehabilitating from her broken leg. Cumalot led the runners off up a falsie, allowing the walkers to overtake them and enter the forest first. Trouble is, Sadist was taking the walking too seriously and fell over within 10 metres of entering the forest.

Jobsworth was warned to put lots of Ws down as Farty Bum was making a late, Italian style appearance on the hash, i.e. late. Not as late as Supermarket Trolley who only turned up at the beer stop, but she had a good excuse in having had to see the police that morning. Sympathies to her on her plight.

Meanwhile back on the run, the runners had been slowed down by a cunning check from Padre where none of them had the energy to actually check the trails. Fortunately, Jobsworth saved the day and set them on their way. And this is where the trouble started. Jobsworth continued his merry way with the FWBs, chatting away until long lost returner Lady Godiva (an original RHHH member making her first appearance this millennium) innocuously asked Jobsworth “where’s your dog gone?”. “Oh sh*t”, said Jobsworth, who had totally forgotten he owned a dog. So he abandoned the walkers with scant directions to the beer stop and ran off in the direction of the runners’ trail. He phoned Cumalot, who helpfully replied that the dog had been with them but had hightailed it.

Q. Why do blondes tip toe past the medicine cabinet?
A. They don’t want to wake the sleeping pills.

Q. Why was the blonde excited to finish the jigsaw puzzle in 6 months
A. Because the box said 2-4 years

And the delicious irony of the dumb blonde jokes? Jessie was fine and well, having used her cute looks to flag down some passing walkers, who used her tag to bring her back home. Jobsworth, by comparison, was the dumb one for forgetting her and then giving himself a near heart attack running around looking for her when she was fine.

Panic over, Jobsworth caught up with the straggling walkers as they neared the beer stop via the quarry with probably the best view over the Mediterranean in the world.

Once at the beer stop, refreshments were available to all and the runners told their stories of having to belly dance under a gate to continue on the trail. Padre and Jobsworth reversed roles, with Jobsworth leaving early to live hare the second half, which was an uphill through the forest. Except where it was down.

Cumalot and Drag Anchor took the easy way back in the beer car and the remaining hashers returned to the start in dribs and drabs.


Pilchard ordering hashers around as if still an army officer.

And so to the circle. Cumalot as ever presided and the charges I recall were:

Hares – Jobsworth and Padre

Returners – Lady Godiva (a very long wait between hashes), Supermarket Trolley, Fairy Plongeur, Gorgeous Edna, Val and several others

Falling over – Sadist, with a guest appearance from Iron Lady for previous such transgressions

Beer master not performing beer master duties – Farth Bum

Latecummers – Farty Bum and Supermarket Trolley

Sh*t of the week should have been an easy affair. Farty Bum, of course, simply for being there. But the kangaroo court ignored traditional SoW immunity for the hares by nominating Padre for delaying the circle and Jobsworth for losing his dog. Jobsworth won by a landslide.

Circle over, it was time for the onon at an all you can eat Asian buffet. Or rather it wasn’t, as the chosen restaurant was full. Despite having picked on Jobsworth for dog abuse, he was despatched to find a solution, which happened to be another all you can eat Asian restaurant just 500m away. And so bellies were filled and war stories recounted, not least by resident tank commander Pilchard.

And that is all. Your hare, beer master, shit of the week AND scribe is now signing out from duties for today. OnOn!

Next R*n, SuperMarket Trolley race around Villeneuve Loubet

When and Where is the Next one?

The hares – Jobsworth and Padre

Meet at 10h00 for 10h30

Venue – Sophiatech, just a 3 minute drive from the Antibes A8 exit


Having not attended the hash since, well, last setting one, Jobsworth has happily accepted the offer of Padre to co-hare. Given that there is unfinished business in the ever receding forests behind Antibes, that his knees are destroyed by too much vertical ascent over the last month and that he only returned to the Riviera on Sunday, the start point will be identical to the one for the hash he set in July. As will the restaurant, which to be fair is not a bad little all you can eat Asian buffet. However, the trail will be very different to the last, so no fear of repetition.

Coming from the east, exit A8 at Antibes. Take the new slip road at the exit marked d535 towards Sophia & Biot. Follow the d535 down the dip & back up the other side (past the legendary Pedo beerstop) for about 1km until you come to a roundabout named “Carrefour Sophia Tech”. Turn left at this roundabout towards “Campus Sophiatech” & park along the road wherever you see hashers.

Same as above coming from the West but with an extra need for vigilance. When you come off the A8, follow signs towards Biot & then to Nice back on the A8. When you are by the entrance to the autoroute signposted Nice, do not go back on but straight up the d535 towards Biot. Directions as above – 1.2km to the roundabout (named  Carrefour Sophia Tech) after the dip & turn left following the “Campus Sophiatech signs” & park with the other hashers.

If you are planning coming in any direction that will first take you through Sophia Antipolis, don’t do it. You will be lost in the maze of roundabouts for the rest of eternity & I really do not have a sharp enough mind to explain how to navigate there. Just take the instructions from the Antibes A8 exit and you will be fine. It is a 3 minute drive from there.

If you have any problems, call Jobsworth on 0607938501.


For map details, please copy & paste this link in the web