Hot off the Presses – The Haggis Run Report!
Haggis Hunt Montauroux.
Hares; Pilchard and Padre
Scribe; Alison Wonderland. (I think it is, “No Satisfaction.” Ed.)
Wanna see some of Pilchard’s Porn.
A tank with gender issues.

And now some of Padre’s?

 
‘Jobsworth’ isn’t writing the run report for the ‘Haggis Run’.
I know he was not there, but is that really an excuse? (No it is not; give him a Shit of the Week nomination the next time he shows up. Ed.)
So here is my version, quickly slung together so I don’t miss my ‘Happy Hour at the ‘Tannenberg Bar’ in ‘Lech’ .
‘The Pilchard’ has military training, so it was only fitting that the run instructions were in code, that is ‘3 words’: ‘Car Park Montaroux’.
(what3words is a global addressing system. It has divided the world into a grid of 3m x 3m squares and assigned each one a unique 3 word address. Who can not follow instructions? Ed. See below for a clue.)
Those able to follow instructions were given the reward of a Tot, or two or three in certain cases of a rather superb Whiskey from Lidl. The Singleton; this has won many awards but the main one being, it is cheap but has a superb taste.
Very cryptic. So cryptic, in fact, that I almost missed the run because I went to the car park at the centre of town instead.
Fortunately, whilst sitting in a local bar waiting, I saw another ex-military comrade ‘Perpetual Motion’ run past and I knew I was in the wrong place.
Unfortunately for ‘Fairyplunger’, he missed the run completely, as he waited at the central car park. I am not sure in which bar he spent the morning. Breaking news; Padre told me that he was in the Bar with the arrow outside pointing the way to the start. What is the visual equivalent of “Selective Hearing?” He did find his way to the ‘On In’ though, as he had been there before.
‘The Pilchards’ first run was honoured with a good turn out of about 25 Hashers. Many had made the effort to wear red-head wigs and tartan bonnets, in keeping with the festivities.
Those that found the starting point were rewarded with a challenging and varied run, first through the town, frightening the locals and then off up into the woods.
There were a few moans and groans as we puffed up the hills and various knees gave way on the down-hill parts.
We misread a few checks and went off in the wrong direction for a bit, which is when ‘The Pilchard’ realised he was lost, so changed his master plan: He got out his ‘GPS’, identified 10 different satellites nearby and guided us through the woods. Reverting to his military routine, he plotted his course as the crow flies, crashing over boulders and through the under-growth, never mind what was in the way. This is perfect, of course, if you are in a tank, which is what ‘The Pilchard’ normally navigates through rough terrain in, but less fun for mere mortals.
We blondes gathered around and marveled at ‘The Pilchards’ sophisticated orientation gadget, but seeing just a few black dots and understanding nothing, we decided it would serve us better to look where we were going instead.
Just as well, as right in front of us was a massive drop into the ‘Siagne’ valley. Not even a tank could get down that trail.
Then ‘Biggles’ got out his gadget as well. You can use his to take team ‘selfies’ provided you focus on his belly.
Back on flour, our HARE had caught on by now, that if we were to have any chance of finishing on time for our lunch, he had to coach his team through this assault course. So he kicked out the checks and started laying clear arrows, enabling us to more or less run straight along the route. We found this method of laying a trail most civilised.
Then we met with another obstacle: We were set upon by a pack of dogs, who ploughed through the woods nearly knee-capping us and fell on ‘Woof Diva’s little doggy and would not leave her alone.
As a responsible dog owner, ‘Woof Diva’ tried to drag them back to the place they emerged from, but they were having none of it.
Back at base , with no dog bites or lost HASHERs, our long-suffering but adored beer master ‘Paadophil’ excelled himself, as usual, laying on whiskey shots and gin-tonics, washed down with three or four peanuts, accompanied by soft jazz sounds.
For once, there is no rush to the restaurant, due to the perfect time-planning, suitable application of new technologies and strategic decisions taken by the ‘HARE’, so we played around for a bit, until someone gave ‘Finnish Fly’ a down-down, which she spat out with worrying disgust. The crowd was aghast until she explained she was still dedicated to completing ‘Dry January’ even though, it was already 29 January.
Time for lunch and it was off to Les Terrasses’ which I must say, the good humored staff gave us a stonking welcome.

Which reminds me;
(The names have been changed to protect the innocent;)
Walking into the bar, Mike said to Charlie the bartender,
“Pour me a stiff one – just had another fight with the little woman.”
“Oh yeah?” said Charlie “And how did this one end?”
“When it was over,” Mike replied, “she came to me on her hands and knees.
“Really,” said Charles, “now that’s a switch!
What did she say?”
She said, “Come out from under the bed, you little chicken.”
When the haggis was presented on a platter, our master of ceremonies, ‘Sadist’ read the Burns ‘Ode to a Haggis’. This is always a remarkable and professional performance and this time there was a novel little ‘twist with a simultaneous translation into English, provided by ‘No Grappa’ who proved a considerable actress, mustering up a massive ‘Burb’ at the appropriate moment. This ceremony is always the high-light of our ‘Burns’ celebrations. (What, The Burp? Ed.)
Thanks to all those who supported this traditional event and took the trouble to dress in Tartan!
Until the next time, ‘On On’!!!
Another set of terminological inexactitudes follows, ( You mean lies, Ed) from the Ladies Walking Brigade perspective.
So, having completed the most arduous part of the hash we finally arrived at the departure point, just in time for the start. Urgent redecoration of some folks apparel was then undertaken by Bailey, who obviously thought that folks having clean trousers, was not in the true hashing spirit!
Off then on the walkers trail, talking,up and down through the town, talking, walking, talking and admiring the views and talking. Then onto tracks and into the woods where the local tradition of collecting firewood was under way, albeit with trucks and trailers rather than the wicker baskets of years gone by.
Question, when is a choice not a choice? If the hare offers a choice of a short route, or a long route, is this really a choice? No, I didn’t think so either and one and all headed off down the short route.
This proved to be beneficial as we arrived at the beer stop early, providing us with lots of time to enjoy the refreshments, greatly enhanced on this occasion by the inclusion of some fine whisky. (More whiskey if you arrived at the start on time. Ed.) Finally the runners appeared, having kidnapped two rather handsome lab/retrievers. Concern was then raised by some of our more gentile Hashettes, as to how we would collect the ransom for the mutts and whether or not we could let them go back alive, as they had seen us! Paedophil placed the ransom call to the owners, who promptly drove to the rendezvous place, by which time of course both Hashers and mutts had disappeared.
The second half of the hash provided some spectacular views, so I’m led to believe, as, having selflessly volunteered to assist the Beermiester, riding shotgun on the beer wagon, I missed it.

DOWN DOWNS:
Competitive Trotting: Cumskwicker and Padre
Wearing tartan: Padre, Sadist, Duchess, No Grappa, Perpetual Motion, Woof Diva, Biggles,
Assessaguy, Roadrunner, Finnish Fly, Pilchard (Some outfits more discreet than others – example Roadrunner wore tartan socks only)
Not wearing tartan, and not singing loud enough for the tartans (anti-social): Dire Rear, Tosspot, Mad Max, Farty Bum, Paedophil
Note: Not sure which list No Satisfaction belongs on, but she received a Down Down.
Closet Terrorists (lived in Somalia) : Padre, Sadist
Brand new mug yet mugless: Pilchard
Selfie abuse: Biggles, Cumskwicker
Alternative facts: Perpetual Motion
Returners: Woof Diva, Assessaguy, Roadrunner, Biggles, Françoise,
Virgin Dog: Bailey
Shit of Week
Finnish Fly – throwing beer over RA
Pilchard – using Sat Nav on trail
Farty Bum – late cummin
Paedophil — lack of etiquette; pointing