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 HASH MAG ARCHIVE 1996: RUN NO.655 Run Date: 3 June 1996 A True Story Of Tallow And Gelatine Despite your committee's best efforts the hash crisis continues, hashes all over the country find themselves with membership lists full of surplus hashers who all have to be fed and looked after. The rather belated scheme to cull all hashers over the age of forty seems absurd when you realise that; (a) no one would probably notice that they had gone anyway, and (b) I am over forty so you can forget that. The compensation package on offer - a free tee shirt and giant economy tube of 'deep heat' per carcase - has attracted many less-principled hashes. I strongly urge that your committee holds out for the additional free beanie hat and car window sticker "Hashers Do It All Over You". Let's face it, you only have to look at the type of feed that your average Drake hasher has been given over the last few years to realise the degree of contamination that must have entered the food chain. I blame the hare. Speaking of which brings us to Anonymous and his sojourn in the drizzle...... Extraordinary, really, that so many turned up when it must have been obvious when they were leaving home that they were going to get wet. Awesome respect to Anon for organising a downhill start. We ought to have more of these although it was a bit of a sod trying to locate flour in the wet. The trail meandered down ........Some left shoes in bogs (Skippy's sibling), some threw themselves into bogs (Heinz). Thirsty and Old (old) Ferret for some reason made a close investigation of an old mine adit but soon came out again as they are both scared of the dark and it was too narrow to hold hands. A head down shuffle in the driving drizzle brought us to the nether regions of Fernworthy where the IAT invisible man award was being strongly courted by Deadly who promptly disappeared into the undergrowth for the duration. Ah bliss, I hear you murmur. Now I do like a good little footpath now and then and the hare had done a good job digging out some great little paths despite the Forestry Commission's best endeavours to hide them. This brought us back to the edge of the open moor and the swirling mist. "Everyone keep together" from the the hare in a resigned sort of way, full knowing that nobody would take a blind bit of notice as they all buggered off into the murk. Most got back to the cars ok. But on the way down the road to the pub we passed three sad little figures trailing back along the tarmac. Ah yes, Heinz, Zippy and Def Ent had been lured by the piskies and a hopeless sense of direction onto the scenic route. Apparently we all waved, hooted, smiled and flashed our lights. Did anyone stop and offer them a lift? Did they conjones! Thirsty mused
that it must have been the overabundance of tallow, gelatine
and the other thing he could never remember being stockpiled
that was causing the navigational problems. Apparently you can
rub it into your chest for medicinal reasons - tallow that is.
Skippy and Twice-A-Night unfortunately misunderstood this, which
led to another sticky moment (metaphorically speaking). Certainly
the tallow and gelatine pie I ordered was very tasty. The landlady
admitted that she and the chef had a secret ingredient which
made it so good. Yes, that was rather tasteless (metaphorically
speaking).
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