It was the promise of pre-ordered FISH n’chips that lured 4 Oslo Hashers to join Riviera run 893. On our arrival, a SHOAL of 25-30 Hashers were FLOUNDERing around at the CARPark at the end of the bloody big bridge.

Some were admiring their MULLET haircuts whilst others were PERCHed on seats admiring the sun RAYS over Lac St Cassien.  As far as we could see, there was an English PILCHARD, a few CHUBBs but no FINs. There was a bit of a nip in the air but not enough to dampen the SOLEs of the disciples who gathered round like SARDINES in a barrel to keep warm. Most of the dogs behaved well but the grey bugger with the evil eyes was a bit of a SNAPPER.

The Snapper, thats the dawg, not Likkmm

Hare of the day, Perpetual Motion did the obligatory chalk-talk and did a recount for the pre-ordered COD and chips which turned out to be 25 instead of the expected 18 (more about this later).

And we were off. For the first fifty meters everything went fine, then confusion as we hesitated to cross the afore-mentioned bloody big bridge caused by an ambiguous sign (at least for those not parleying bon Français) indicating no pedestrians but by the time we got to the other end somebody had translated the clarification “Durant les Écopages”

Leaving the tarmac, we SCALEd a bloody big hill which FILETed off the runners from the walkers. The trail led us over waves of forested terrain to sun RAYed peaks and troughs of frozen valleys where we could have DABbed our feet in the iced over puddles or SKATEd across them.

After 9 kilometers the drink stop was in sight – BRILL. Closing in, the pace picked up and cries of WAHU were heard as we reached the PLAICE. The boot of Perpetual Motion’s car, resembled a BAR as drinks and snack were distributed to the assembled GROUPERs. PILCHARD used the opportunity of new faces to re-tell his otherwise worn out joke repertoire. While he did raise a chuckle or two, most of us thought it was a load of POLLOCKs.

My kind’a town?

After the drink stop, the runners were lured into returning from whence they had cum and FISH FINGERED out in all directions. PILCHARD was seen following Pre-stressed re-tracing the runners trail, the wiser of us thought “EEL be sorry” – turns out, we were right.

Back in the CARPark, the circle was dEELayed for the arrival of Pre-stressed and PILCHARD who managed to clock up 18k on a 13k trail and came back looking like PORTUGESE MEN OF WAR. Down-down songs were sung to various TUNAs and some sang with BASS voices. All in all, a lovely run in a nice area with some great views.

Then there was the cock-up with the restaurant. Apparently, a friendly phone call to announce that we were 25 instead of 18 didn’t go down well resulting in a pissed off owner who promptly shut down the place. Perpetual’s efforts of a personal visit yielded nothing but more nails in the shutters and all forms of reconciliation were abandoned. 

Plan B involved a rapid refund by Levrette of the recently paid meal fee and off to Asian fast food “Old Siam”. Ignoring Pre-stressed’s advice that the food there was like “shit on toast”, many of us ate a FISH-free meal only to be distracted by Likk’mm’s new shoes which had somehow gone unnoticed in the circle despite them being size 49. “Circle up” – out into the restaurant CARPark and we had the staff wondering if they really were serving shit on toast when customers must rush out to drink beer from oversized footwear.


The Vicar


Hare: Perpetual Motion

The idiots that delayed the circle for running 5k more than necessary:

Pre-stressed and PILCHARD

Virgins: 3-4 virgins

Visitors: Spermbank and Erector from Oslo H3 and Likk’mm representing the rest of the world

Returners: The Vicar and Flying Chicken 

Shit of the week: Perpetual Motion for arranging a pre-ordered FISH n’chips meal at New Leaf restaurant which subsequently refused to have anything to do with us.

Assistant shit of the week: The Vicar for apparently mentioning fish too much – load of CODs wallop say I

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