Mauritius Hash Trash 623

10-06-2012 Sans Souci Edwina & Hugette BYO #623

VENUE: Sans Souci

HARES: Huguette & Edwin

HASH 623 – BESIDE LAKE TITICACA

Before I become the most unwelcome hub of criticism for using inappropriate language in such an august publication, I must hastily point out the title of this week’s piece is a reference to the enclosed pool of water that rests on the border of Peru & Bolivia way up in the Andean mountain range & that happens to be the fourth largest lake in the world. It is not intended to be a unsecret obscure Creole code to be interpreted as a rather unpleasant nocturnal pastime enjoyed by the deviant.
The venue for this Sabbath’s event was at Sans Souci Sugar Estate & the On On was a neat lodge delicately perched beside a most beautiful lake. Our guest hares Huguette & Edwin had proposed a scenic route using the very lake as a prominent feature but this cunning plan was aborted for reasons somewhat undetermined but it may have been that they were concerned that a salacious gang of wildebeest might have taken leave of their senses & tried to savage the beloved Grandmaster, our very own voodoo pet renegade ex-unspecial Immobile Forcelessperson. So the trailsetters’ unforeseen lucklessness gave them no worries as they went scurrying to hurriedly reconfigure the trail using the sugarcane fields as their geographical sextant. And the dynamic duo did a sterling job by seeking out forests & mudslides through which to guide the noble squad of Hashers & the absence of a walker’s trail did not diminish the enjoyment of the expedition. However, it seemed suspiciously like the trail sort of wound back on itself which the more keen-sighted alert Hashers may have noticed & profited from by emulating Dodoman Grihault’s unremarkable gift of shortcutting. It cannot be helped but to refer to the medley of arrows strewn across the course & the Scribe was expecting (and maybe hoping) to find the immortal Zen Archer, Cupid, sitting on a rock, chewing a stalk of cane with an inviting smile on his lips. A few of the Hashers became hopelessly disoriented most notably the irrepressibly roadblind Scribe who did exhibit his Samaritan credentials by escorting a group of wayward stragglers to the welcome sanctuary of the On-On. The thoroughly thoroughbred, Tim Cartwright thoroughly decimated the “opposition” although the knowledgeable word on the grapevine is that he is undergoing a special training regime for the Orange Half Marathon under the strict watchful eye of an uncompromising whiplashing draconian taskmaster who is Dame Marie Cartwright herself (is this stunt merely a channel for vicarious pleasure,)
The Grandmaster had mercifully discharged himself of the distasteful feminine identity of last Hash by doing his best to masquerade as a normal male (and in just about convincing style) & invited the virgins to present themselves before the baying throng of the circle.
1)Steeve Turner – who was only going home the next day so it looks like a foregone conclusion that he won’t be getting his graduation down down any time soon.
2)Susan & Richard Baker – whose collective name sound like they are Breakfast TV talk show hosts. They are only Virgo Intacta for the Mauritius Hash with their official unexpurgated Hash pseudonyms being Daily Screw & Screwdriver respectively. We did not arrive at an explanation for these injudicious alter egos (insert your own cover stories here) but it brings tears to the eyes just thinking about it. They have spent time in Papua New Guinea (now merely Papua) mostly in the more picturesque northern plains & have also spent time in East Timor, affectionately known by the Rough Guide hitchhiking community as plain old TimTim.
3)Elizabeth – not even an unintelligible scribble in the Scribe’s notes against her name so perhaps she communicated in semaphore or the Scribe momentarily dropped his digital ear trumpet.
4)Rachel – a young Scottish lass who is doing something infinitely life affirming in Mauritius but the Scribe forgets exact details (insert your own “age mpairs the memory joke here)
5)Edwin – from the neighbouring French department of Reunion Island, who claimed he enjoyed his first Hash & added that he likes Mauritius very much.
The GM was saved from the dreaded plastic urinal chamber be second timeras forfeit.

The R.A. was looking like the epitome of the poster child for the slumdog urchin generation dressed as if a refugee from a Dickensian novelletta. If only he had the foresight to wear a satchel, jacket & cap as matching attire for his schoolboy shorts & alma mater tie, he might very well have passed as rock legend Angus Young, lead guitarist of AC/DC. His story was essentially autobiographical & took place during a camping expedition to Madagascar with some fellow Hashers which would have probably included his better half, the divine Mrs Farrow. On the final evening of their stay whilst the barbeque was being prepared, the R.A. surreptitiously sneaked off for a walk probably hoping to build up an appetite for the fatted calf that was rotating helplessly (lifeless) on the spit. He was wandering lonely as a cloud when he chanced upon a host of golden daffodils their yellow heads gently swaying in the breeze; and just beyond this colourful sight and in stark contrast lay a dark imposing cave. With intrepid curiosity taking advantage of him, he could not resist the temptation to venture inside.
As he inspected the stalagmites, stalagtites & other unusual rock formations he was startled by a grizzly Gitanes & Remy Martin voice that demanded “Who would you be & what do you want”?.
Momentarily thinking that he had inadvertently walked into an audition for Pirates of the Caribbean, the R.A cleared his throat & lapsed into a rather imperious thespian vocal undertone “I, my dear fellow, am none other than famed seafaring outlaw, Captain Steven Horatio Hornblower Farrow & I have come all the way from England in search of fine gold doubloons; and who might you be my good man?” he retorted in a rather poorly executed almost plastic Geilgud accent.
Recovering from this seriously underwhelming piece of overacting, the voice offered “Ye can do all the horn blowing you want but you can’t fool an old pirate like me. You be no more a seafaring outlaw than I be the CEO of Facebook; that be obvious by your current dress code. Well, me hearty, I be Long John Silver the world famous pirate & this be my faithful parrot, Captain Flint. We call this place Treasure Island & we have been here as long as we can remember. Would ye like a nice cup of Earl Grey tea that I stole from a British captain in the good old days?
“That would be excellent” replied The R.A. his voice returning to its normal North English vernacular “and just the sort of aperitif for a pre-Barbeque tipple”.
They sat placidly down on a rock covered with limpets , barnacles & slimy seaweed & as his eyes adjusted to the light, the R.A. noticed that that his host had a wooden leg. “How did you get that wooden leg?” enquired the R.A.
“Arrrr, that were in the heat of battle, in the good old days, when we had just captured a Portuguese Man O’War. I had me sword to the captain’s throat when his cowardly manservant popped up from behind the poop deck & sliced me leg clean off”.
As the water was heating up over the open log fire, the R.A. then noticed that he had a hook for a hand & in a moment of unguarded boldness, ventured “I notice that you have a hook & I am wondering what happened that you lost your hand?”
“Arrrrrr! me hearty that were in the heat of battle, in the good old days, when we had just captured a Spanish galleon. I had my sword to the captain’s throat when his cowardly manservant popped up behind me from the shadow of the quarterdeck & sliced me hand clean off.” As they were happily slurping their teas & dunking their manioc biscuits like a pair of uncultured mendicants, the R.A. noticed that Long John Silver had a leather patch over his eye. “Mr Silver”, whispered the R.A. “and your eye, did you lose that in the heat of battle in the good old days?”
“Afraid not, me hearty” boomed the pirate,” I got that when I was looking up in the sky to tell the time when all of a sudden an albatross swooped down & dispatched a large patch of watery excrement over me eye”
“Wow, I didn’t think that you could lose your eyeball through bird droppings” answered the R.A with his eyebrows raised in incredulity.
“Naar! It weren’t the bird poo that did it. I went to wipe me eye & I forgot about me hook” returned the pirate.

The R.A. conducted the his customary humiliation ceremony to the following victims & victimesses –
1)Marie – committed the most cardinal of cardinal sins by losing her wedding ring although she did recover the charm later. Nevertheless, the R.A. summoned Tim to slip the ring back on to her finger in a micro-marriage ceremony. The blushing groom did not spare his blushes by planting an everlasting kiss on his bride’s lips almost sweeping her off her feet in the process (insert your own cynical marriage comment here).
2)Philida – although hard at work in the kitchen doling out food to hungry mouths, she had time to take a down down for her birthday (25 years young….again). And she of course deserves an award like the Victoria Cross for her services to the handicapped by marrying the G.M. & bearing up with him. for all those years (she must have been bribed surely).
3)Elvira & Ellie – possibly for wearing phosphorescent purple footwear but Ellie did look like the Man from Del Monte in her dapper Panama.
4)Alison – was also called before the circle possibly for wearing make up reminiscent of femme fatale soap opera diva such as Sue Ellen in Dallas (now that is going back some decades).
5)The Venerable Ryan Leeds – for arriving late at the On On yet again. At this rate he may make the Guiness Book of World Records for this unglamorous feat. The Hash would save crateloads of beer by only acknowledging him when he is on time. And although he had to drink from the bacterial plastic urinal, the beer did not have time to touch the sides of his throat as he flushed the contents down with relish. Hope he didn’t turn up late for his flight to Madagascar, though
6)Gregory – was called out NOT to take a down down, the R.A. taking the medicine himself because of his harsh criticism of the Arsenal (the team that Gregory supports) at a recent Hash. The Gunners did finish a respectable third in the Premiership after an embarrassing start to the campaign. Unlike the R.A.’s beloved, beleaguered Tigers who had a singularly unmementous season in the Scumbag Championship Division although this does not prevent him from showing unchecked loyalty by proudly wearing the gold & black, regardless of their fortunes.
7)The Three Mermaids, Abigail, Agnelle & Charlene a trio of returnees who have been absent from the circle for far too long. They did dispatch their liquor with alarmingly consummate ease perhaps illustrating that their years of ale drinking practice in the squalid public bars around Europe have stood them in good stead. The former two are the offspring of the GM & his wife….it was pleasing to remark that they possess their mother’s dominant aesthetic gene & not the deformed gene of the father.

Alas, the cowbell was again on mute setting although the Scribe does consider that it would have been appropriate to have given Marie Andre a down down on behalf of the absent Rey Joseph.

And a quadrillion of thank yous should be extended to the GM & GM-ess for their grand gesture of providing the excellent gastronomic fayre from the goodness of their generous hearts.

THE LAST WORD
In an unexpected turn of events, the Scribe had no reason to polish his high definition LED display crystal ball to unearth unearthly spirits or phantoms from the past from far beyond the secular universe. This week we have the rare rarified pleasure of being enchanted by a humble member of the unzombified community who chirpily acquiesced in reclining in the hot seat to answer a decagon of inane questions. Born in Dublin’s Fair City (cockles & mussels alive alive o etc etc), educated in Ireland with a string of letters (the academic-centric variety) after her name that would probably embarrass a University Professor, she moved to this sceptred isle to escape the post-feelgood economic meltdown that ravaged her native Ireland. She is gainfully employed by that noble institution, The British Council, following in the gigantic dodosteps of the retired Sir Grihault of Noelville.
This effervescent colleen has that unmistakable charismatic appeal that can cure your melancholic pain like a brace of soluble Solpadeine. She did however have an unfortunate hash baptism of fire by being heavily ridiculed for taking her pet shoulder bag for a walk on her maiden voyge. It is probably a testament to her depth of character that she brushed this ignoble ignominy aside & kept gracing us with her efferpresence. She’s here to stay & she’s here for good. Gentlehashpeople, let the angels float from heaven while you rejoice at the wisdom of no finer lass than Ellie O’Carroll BA, MA, H. Dip!
1) Who was your childhood hero?
It was and still is, my darling daddy, Gerry O’Carroll (Not even James Joyce or that irritating Riverdance bloke). Believe me, he is no angel but he’s always been my number one. A retired detective after 30 years in the police force, now turned writer, he’s solved some fascinating cases and put away a lot of dangerous criminals. I am very proud of him. (The Scribe pictures him as a Slim Shady Sam Spade figure).

2) What was your earliest childhood memory?
Nothing specific before about 4 years old. I think I just have nice warm, hazy memories of being safe and secure, I remember my mother holding me, my Granny’s garden with bluebells, following my older sister around adoringly, I remember a pair of really funky seventies dungarees that I wore. I remember the music from ‘Playschool’. I remember starting to write at four. I am a left-hander, but it was only when I was much older that my mother showed me the notes I wrote to her which said ‘ymmam uoy evol I’ written from right to left. (sounds suspiciously like an early devotee of the magic mushroom or a prodigious child anti-prodigy)

3) What do you consider to be your greatest personal achievement?
That I can still write entirely backwards? That I have over 100 facebook friends that I actually like and know! I don’t really think I have had any particularly amazing accolades but getting through the last 3 and a half decades without making any enemies to speak of, is probably something that I am proud of and happy about. (the Scribe cannot imagine a life without enemies). I would hope that my work has an educator has made some small difference to a few out of many. I am happy about my continuing wanderlust and curiousity to see the world and meet new people. (the last sentence verges on a beauty contest acceptance speech),

4) Who is your favourite actor & favourite actress?
Easy, Meryl Streep, the finest actress of her generation and probably co-stars Robert De Niro and Al Pacino for best actors. (they were actual co-stars in Godfather II, Heat & Righteous Kill) Also Jodie Foster/Anthony Hopkins in ‘Silence of the Lambs’, Liam Neeson in “Schindler’s List’, Ben Kingsley in ‘Gandhi’ and the performances that makes me laugh most are Whoopi Goldberg in ‘Ghost’ or Will Ferrell in ‘Elf’. I think the best young actress is Saoirse Ronan, who was astounding in ‘Atonement’. Also, Christian Bale as a young child before he had rage issues, was a phenomenal child actor in Spielberg’s ‘Empire of the Sun’. Incidentally, if you ask me which actor I most fancy at the moment, it’s Tom Hardy in ‘Warrior’ (phwoar) (Shhh! What’s that silence ..ah, at last she has finished……..but what about angel with a dirty face Colin Farrell?).

5) Have you ever smoked dope or taken drugs? Mind your own bloody business!!!! (or “keep your bloody nose out of my metamphetamines”)

6) Name 2 people that you would like to have a conversation with (& why)?
Erm, I’m probably expected to say someone deeply influential in history like Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King or Einstein, but actually I think one person that I’d like to talk (from behind very thick glass) is that pyschopath Anders Brevich to ask him what was going through his head the day of that awful massacre. (he would probably say, amid a flurry of closed fist Nazi salutes, that he was doing his national duty by doing a bit of random cleansing in the name of his monoculturalist ideology) Ooh, I would also like to ask William Shakespeare if he really wrote all the plays himself! (“mind your own bloody business!” – Will.I.Am ShakesSpeare……..I fear the young playwright doth protest too much – the Scribe))

7) When was the last time you got into a fight?
Not a physical fisti-cuffs ever except a bit of mild cat-fighting (meeeeeoooowww!) with my siblings as a child, but more recently, as a pedestrian in Mauritius, dicing with death daily, I can be seen most mornings at the traffic lights in Rose Hill shouting like a lunatic at ignorant motorists when they try to run me over. (Ah the imaginary highway code of Maurtius)

8) When was the last time you went to church?
My awful experience of Catholic school has pretty much deterred me from church in the past 20 years. Apart from sporadic, obligatory and rather hypocritical appearances at hatches, matches and dispatches, of which there are many, the last time I went as a legitimate worshipper, was probably when I was about 14 or 15 and even then, it was only because the nuns forced me to go. These days I don’t subscribe to organised religion and believe that having spirituality doesn’t require attendance at a place of worship. (The classic catholic with a small c)

9) Who is your favourite musician/s?
Ireland’s most proud export… Jedward of course!!!! (So bad they were Eurovisionist flops) But seriously, too many to mention, I love all kinds of music, looking on my ipod, it is ecletic, everything from David Bowie to David Guetta, from Rage Against the Machine to Florence and the Machine! (Hopefully not Bowie’s Tin Machine), The only genre I really detest is trash metal, oh and jazz , it bores me to tears.

10) What would be the last thing you do if you thought the world was ending?
How much time have I got – a few days or a few hours?
Answer to get me into Heaven, the afterlife or a decent reincarnation:Tell everyone that I love how just how much I love them and wait around holding their hands while all the drama unfolds, sounds a bit like being on Titanic… (near, far, wherever you are etc etc)
Answer that will get me into Hell, Limbo or reincarnated as a slug: Have a party, get very drunk, fornicate copiously, go shopping with plastic and buy the 5,000 pound Swarovski-encrusted Christian Louboutin shoes that I have my eye on, knowing I will never pay off that visa bill. (So, in actual fact, become Paris Hilton)

Th..Th..Th..That’s All Folks
THE SCRIBE