Mauritius Hash Trash 571
06-06-2010 Middle of nowhere (B7) Alan, Leslie and Marie-Claude #571
I was minding my own business at Salon De La Maison, spending quality time with my wife burrowing through the Home Safety stand when I was caught on the blind side by fellow hasher, Henriette with whom I exchanged pleasantries (more on this subject later) before being confronted by her offspring, Olivier who proceeded to reel off some implausible & unintelligible tale regarding his enforced absence from today’s Hash.
He then slumped to his knees & begged me to display my illiterary talents as substitute scribe for today’s event.
What the Scribe could possibly be doing that is better than the Hash is anyone’s guess but I suspect that he was not too enamoured at the prospect of co-bearing the Hash Hostage cowbell with his aunt. In any event, I am SubScribe….
Far from the sadistic diversions of the sand torture in Pointe Aux Sables, the merry band of Hashers congealed like an infestation of blood clots out in the pastoral wilds & wilderness of The Middle Kingdom in the immediate vicinity of Rich en Eau where only hobbits & trolls dare tread.
The trail was laid by two grandees of the Hash…… dodo expert, star of stage & screen , Alan (who is also believed to have invented the Abacus) & our resident hirsute Teletubby, Captain Nemo.
The triptych, completed by the elegant Madame Marie Claude, must have resembled the proverbial “rose between two thorns”.
Regardless, our trio of Hash Experts set a scenic, stunning trail with the unerring surgical precision of Sweeney Todd which included a fascinating voyage along a track that fringed a gorge of some description.
The fact that modern scientific methods (GPS, Google Earth, X-Ray imaging, satellites tracking systems) were used to plan the course does not detract from the immeasurable feat.
Boxes, circles, back checks, an independent walkers path ensured Hashers were kept in packs.
At one point I ventured down a path at the foot of which a savage pack of hungry dogs could be heard screaming like banshees; mercifully I saw the reassuring sight of parallel lines that relieved my neurotic anxiety.
The Grandmaster dutifully rounded up the rabble of riff-raff & set about his ceremonial duties with authority & conviction.
The Virgins were –
Marie Lourdes (not sure about the spelling) from Mauritius
Marie Jose also from Mauritius
Omar from Johannesburg who was wearing an Italian football shirt as apparently this was the only clean apparel that he had at his disposal (I think secretly he has unfulfilled dreams of paddling a gondola through the waterways of Venice & singing “O Solo Mio” in his best baritone).
Will they come back for the second timers inauguration ritual? Who knows….?
Murrray duly received his down-down to welcome him into the brotherhood.
A worthy inclusion to the virtuously worthless ranks of front running bastards.
Pray Silence For The RA
Our (Sac)religious advisor took front & centre stage to narrate a rather troubling but cautionary anecdote about an anonymous Hash Boy who sought his venerable counsel (I wonder if this counsel took place in the privacy of his confessional booth) regarding a personal issue which was upsetting the poor lad. At strategic intervals during the soliloquy the circle was invited to cry the word “Shaaaame” only when the RA waved his walking cane like he was calling his highland brethren to arms against Sassenach incursionists.
The exalted conversation went something like this –
RA…………What seems to be the trouble, young Thomas Hughes?
YTH……….I don’t want to live with my dad any more
RA…………Why don’t you want to live with your dad anymore?
YTH……….Because he beats me!
RA…………Well, why don’t you live with your mum then?
YTH……….Because she beats me as well!
RA…………Well, who would you like to live with then?
YTH……….I would like to live with the England Football Team!
RA…………Why the England Football Team?
YTH……….Because they don’t beat anyone!!!!!!!!
SHAAAAAAME!! (although I would have much preferred a hearty “Hallelujah”)
On this occasion, The RA did not deliver a moral to his evangelical interlude but let’s face it there is no morality as far as the England Football Team are concerned (*whispers* John Terry *runs and hides*)
The RA then summoned first timer Omar to indulge in a bout of liquid punishment for the unforgivable transgression of wearing an Italian Football shirt when he really ought to have been proudly wearing the colours of his homeland & the hosts of Africa’s first World Cup (Bafana Bafana to you, Omar)
Luckless Harold’s sorry arse was also dragged into the centre of the multitude for his abject failure to understand the webilicious foolproof directions to the Hash Site, arriving well after the On-On was called.
In his (frankly gossamer-thin) defence he rather amusingly blamed the faux pas on his Irish co-pilot but that still did not prevent him being punished for his third degree myopia. His humiliation was sealed when the RA announced that Harold was even late for his own party the previous week (I suspect that he was frantically looking for reliable GPS systems).
The final down down went to the Bounty Hunter Crocodile Dundee (alias Gaetan) for loitering behind the circle & attempting to perfect the art of fondling unsuspecting ladies using some form of delicate & intimate brushing technique.
However, it was not confirmed whether those unsuspecting ladies were enjoying his lascivious attentions but the aging Lothario was heard to be offering his victims the opportunity to “stroke his pet reptile” with a disturbing, Hannibal lecherous grin on his expectant face. (some people just simply have no decorum)
The incumbent Hash Hostage, Marie Andre stalked the circle like a rapacious tiger before gleefully awarding the cowbell to the SubScribe for addressing Henriette at the aforementioned Salon in the Creole noun that denotes a lady who indulges in promiscuous carnal gratification in return for currency remuneration. Although the SS appealed for clemency claiming the remark was made purely in jest & that he was only drawing inspiration from the PM Cha Cha Junior, he was rightly condemned for his unchivalrous behavior &, just in case he was not able to sense his feline conspirators’ unbridled wrath, he was also drowned in a monsoon of frothsome beer just for extra effect. Nice to see that Puritans still roam this earth….but Yes – what a waste of good liquor!THE EPILOGUE
In which a series of questions are asked that attempts to reveal a sequence of useless information about a Hash member. Today’s interviewee – none other than THE GRANDMASTER GILBERT DODOCOP
- Who was your boyhood hero?
My father because he lived in the woods & had a gun although I have to admit that such reverence seems to fit in with the archetypal criminological profile of a serial killer.
- What was your earliest childhood memory?
Playing on a set of drums at home but as home was out in the woods there were no complaints about an unholy racket from neighbours although the animals may have been hard pushed to appreciate the tympanic cacophony.
- When was the last time you broke the law?
When I got drunk on the Hash recently & drove home under the influence of Phoenix.
- When was the last time you lost your temper?
When my wife was sick (selfish bastard I thought until he explained further) I was working at the airport when I received an emergency call saying that my wife was in hospital. My boss did not give me compassionate time off because I was on duty. I became so upset that I chased after him with vengeance on my mind (see serial killer comment above; he did not mention what he chased his boss with or what happened to his boss). Luckily, the Commissioner of Police was an acquaintance of mine & he got me off the hook (it is who you know that counts in life….)
- Mobile Phones? Indispensable or Indefensible?
Indispensable (nothing & no-one is indispensable)
- Have you ever smoked dope?
Never….but I have spent many years trying to convince people not to do so (What a Saint – he will surely be in for canonization sooner rather than later)
- Favorite Supermarket?
There’s only one winner…….and that’s Winners because I like the parking.
- Favorite musician?
Jimi Hendrix. Do I remember the classic album cover of Electric Ladyland with all those unclothed nubile nymphettes sitting on the floor? No, I don’t….it must have been censored in Mauritius.
- Love? Reality or Illusion
Reality although If I was an oxyMoron I would have said real illusion
- Favourite Food?
Fish…..the deader the better
That’s all, Folks!
SubScribe (Exeunt Stage Right, rapidly)
|The Hash Mish-Management Team|
|Office||The 2009 / 2010 team|
|Supreme Being:||Gilbert “Dodocop”; Tel: (M)910 4062|
|Hare Line + Trailmasters:||Jean (Deputy: Pierre-André)|
|Religious and Sex Advisor:||Leslie|
|Ha$h Ca$h:||Chantalle (Deputy: Henriette)|
|Drinks for Wimps ‘n Kids:||Harold|
|Hash Market:||(Vacant ??)|
|Edit Hare:||Olivier (Deputy: Sara G)|
|Kitchen Mistress:||Philida (Phone: 492 0609)|
Mauritius Hash House Harriers. We run (walk) every second Sunday at 10 a.m.