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