Hashe Trashe #1415


And it came to pass that the Hare Raiser of the noble and ancient Athens Hashe House Harriers, which having established a successful and prosperous Hashe in that fabled city, looked unto extend the word of hashing to those in the unknown eastern lands. He summoned Strawberry Foreskin a notable hasher and current keeper of the scriptures, and commandeth him to venture unto the hinterlands, spreading beer, cheer, and flour amongst the unwashed and befuddled masses of Pikermi, so that they may become even more so unwashed and befuddled.

Now then in the Year of Our Hashe, seven and twenty, and Year of Our Lord Two Thousand & Five, did S4S survey the land there and did review the scroll of completed hashes and finding none were set, therefore before didst determine that the westerly winds bore tidings of change. And he called his pack of learned hashers together with promise of beer and victuals, and didst decree unto them:

"For I, S4S, being an foolhardy hasher hath laid trail in these virgin lands. And so doth call upon my hashy brethren to come forward and join in the defloration of the virgin hash lands of Pikermi, for is it not written that all true hashmen are honour bound to spread the word and joy of hashing?"

And so it was to be done. It was done. And it was good that it was done.

The hashe mismanagement having created haberdashery and appropriate gifts and adornments (for sale at affordable prices), and having ordered cooks to prepare sumptuous victuals, and brewers to brew their finest beers, and the word spread about the lands of Attica of this festival. And so did the hashers cheer, having found noble trail amongst the rude earth.

Thus was the holy trail which drew the publicans, tax collectors and debtors of the hashe and directed them accordingly – thus the Hare Raiser professed:

"Lay a trail of shiggy, beer, and more shiggy.

Let hashers stumble upon rocks, trees, and flowers,

Let them hash, let them hash for hours.

Let bleed their legs from prickers, bramble, and rock,

So that upon ending, they wish to cut off your cock"

Come the day a more nefarious pack never was met, attired in robes from strange lands, whigs and garments beggaring description. Thence, aided by nought but the astronomy of G’s heavens, a bad attitude, and a sense of stupidity and misdirection, did these hashers set to their task. The evil plan of the hare was soonest evident.

The much maligned pack thus did exeunt. Hashed they through stream, shiggy, and up rutted track that would have made the Hashe Fathers proud and invoking the name of Gispert to pray for a quick and safe passage, so did the hashers exeunt and run to shiggy.

The swift were led foolishly down false trails and were thereunder repelled by an ‘F’ hewn in floury garb. Whilst the last moreover became first. The trail of truth passeth beyond hillock and roundeth the goodly fertile plain. The witless few sought trail by crossing a watery torrent but were soon to be coaxed in retreat by cries of ‘on on’ from valiant comrades of lesser flight.

Having thus run whilst following good daily-bread flour the pack reached an steep anticline beset by canines. The witless few, growing in number by the minute, found new trails of falseness allowing the feeble to regain the group at point of making apex of the mount. Up, up didst the hashers climb, traversing rock, shiggy paths, weaving through terrible trees and snarling shrubs. Rangy views and vistas aplenty were espied and a descent to Hades through more pricks and cleaving brambles was made emerging upon a rutted road. Those of fleetest foot made rapid haste homeward to the finest ales awaiting their return, whilst others (Pink Jenny) made an episode with a small hole in a fence which was not on trayle.

There, collecting their beers and sacred drinking vessels, did hashers converge upon the earth from whence they originated, much drinking resumed. Tales of shiggy, turned ankles, bruised knees, and encounters with wildlife were shared to the poppe of champagne corks.

But soon after the sun hath passed its zenith in the spring sky and the horn doth sound, the pack formeth itself unto an circle for religious ceremonies.

And the horn and voice of the almighty Religious Advisor and Joint Master (a lonely position these days) was heard from above the maunder of the baying hordes, and as fast and compliant as a herd of sated house cats, the hashers made calm. Liquids both beery and bubbly loosened tongues and endangered morals. Accusations were made, some real, some imagined, and hashers drank the sacred liquid, and it was good. The JM and RA were quick and brutal with the punishment for those who were found transgressing the spirit of hashing or deigned to disturb the sacred ceremony, and offenders were damned to down-down copious amounts of FAXE ales.

Before the circle was dismissed an aged relic once known as Playboy 2 (for it was he) was brought asunder. Seated upon a rude throne charges were made by virgins (Shiva and Clitoria ?!?) of his corruptive and wicked acts thus causing the mob to demand his ceremonial and righteous de-frocking.

Quantities of the ales were drunk to make the biermeister balk and repair was made to the Tavern where the cooking wench presented a board of foodstuffs and victuals washed down with cooling drafts of ales and the finest house wines. The wench was repaid for her labours by ten pieces of silver and many lewd suggestions. Of note was a tree whose mighty bole didst insinuate the very eating place. This arbour was thus climbed by hashing wenches needing to pass to gain the place wherein to make their number one’s.

On into the afternoon celebrated the hashers, and the valleys and hills of Pikermi rang with the ululations of hashing. 

Long Live Playboy 2, though his evil reign hath now cometh to an end.

May the Hash go in peace…May the Hash get a piece.

Coitus Non Interruptus


Strawberry Foreskin