VENUE: The other side of Penteli….or on the way to Tipperary

So thank goodness we waited until the wind was whistling over the tundra and storm clouds gathering on the horizon before our first annual pilgrimage into the foothills of Penteli. Clit is never happy bringing us up here until the first snowflakes start swirling and our corned beef legs and goose bumps the size of normal peoples’ tits, stand out through our hash attire…..Maddog tried to mitigate the worst of the cold by having a handy mountain picnic hut to hand….it was a shame that the real effect was that of a wind tunnel to exacerbate the wind chill to minus 16 at least……why can we never come up here on a Monday night summer hash when the temp hits 40??? Nope just one of those hash traditions dreamt up by the mis-management I suppose….a cold snap and up to higher elevations of Athens mountain slopes we go……heatwave lets pound the streets of downtown Athens in the nephos (air pollution to the uninitiated)

So we managed to climb out of cars and weep in the cold b4 we were brought to order and sent off on a boring F from the On On…..so back to the start and off we go again up the slopes of Penteli’s quarries with good old very fit bastards leading the way. We had a few of them this week, the Banger and Mash couplet, the Bookmaker and Fiery Twat duet and the solo performance of Gerry following a well set trail from blue to blue to F to ccccchhhhheck, to bbbbback cccchhheck, to ffffffuck me its cccccold…..which perhaps enhanced the running performance with the threat of frostbite pushing us on and up. We had a few offences on trail including the usual buggers that made their own up as they fancied a proper run on tracks rather than a tumble down the scree and brambles. We came On Inn down the road which expanded our lung capacity and the swearing capacity of the drivers meeting clumps of Ahhhers round the blind bends……and

So back to the circle….once the walkers had turned up….late and a bit breathless to be honest so god knows what Maddog had convinced them to do up there. We were called to order and roundly abused in a fairly witty and non-offensive style by Allday Sucker ( is he named after a sanitary towel?) with a little quiet help from the GM Spanish Fly on occasion….she is slowly growing into this role, roll, (delete as appropriate). We were pursued throughout by Haberdashery trying to sell us anything and everything….taking advantage of the favourable meteorological conditions that meant any extra layer was welcome. We also had lots of wonderful song making and So finally Fair Cop was appointed, Master of Song , SongMeister…..Choral Chappie, He That Always Has A Song For Every Occasion and Can Sing Fairly Tunefully or HTAHASFEOCSFT for short ( a name of a famous Aztec ruler well known for his ditties set in madrigal format…..look it up on Google if you don’t believe me!)

So to other business…..returnees were had, virgins were welcomed, latecomers were mentioned, Deep Throat gave the Penis to Jealous Bitchski, and we scratched our heads for want of something better to do while thinking up a name for Gerry…..cos it was obviously an excellent day for a naming, where skin would be bared, bums sat in ice and cold beverages poured over and in every orifice………see my original rant on the suitability of venue matching with weather conditions……..YES EXCELLENT IDEA if the plan is to ensure we send a hasher off with double pneumonia to meet the GM in the sky with his HASH NAMING fresh in his memory……

We took our time once Gerry was ceremoniously stripped and carefully positioned on the ice sack…..we relished our power over this very fit bastard who can even jog uphill at the end of a hash (rather than looking fairly athletic on a short downhill section at the beginning, which is what most of us aspire to)……and finally we allowed the naming to begin and end with him enjoying his new nomenclature of…….Geriatric Pacemaker….Welcome to AHHH…..oh and here is a blanket and mittens.

ON ON to Snow Job.Cum’s love shack in Schinias