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 HASH MAG ARCHIVE 1997: RUN NO.703 Run Date: 5 May 1997 IAT And Rudolph Deconstructed It is strange how the vagaries of the magnificent British climate continue to perplex even weather beaten veterans of the not so magnificent Drake hash. Despite the appearance of a clear balmy evening from within the confines of the Beastmobile, the reality of a stiff breeze reduced the temperature to below what felt like the freezing point of a yetis testicles (not my description you realise). Opinion polls suggest that most Drake hashers would not vote for frozen testes and that the only true test is when they turn up and vote with their feet. Within five minutes we witnessed an epic swing of landslide proportions to the super cooled gonads persuasion. Amazingly sixty seven percent of hashers were heard to say 'brrrrr' whilst a lone independent ran round in a circle four times, retreated to a car and refused to emerge until the hash was over. This sea change in attitude to the cold is something that even Rover's increasingly threadbare Union Jack shorts cannot conceal. He must realise that we have lost confidence in the ability of this garment to carry out its promise to protect us from the nastier side of life and that after eighteen years they do not have the energy, vision and freshness to take this great hash into the 21st century. Meanwhile out on the hustings Rudolph assured us that his intended policy of multiple river crossings had been shelved due to the recent precipitation. This skill at ditching unpopular manifesto commitments did not go unappreciated by the crowd. So, four minutes and thirty three seconds late, we started, but who's counting anyway? Now I know that we must maintain the custom of slagging off the hares to keep the correctly deficient Drake attitude alive and suitably moribund. Therefore the next bit must be read with the proviso lodged firmly in the back of your mind that all hares are useless, sad, incompetent members of an increasingly dysfunctional society who could not manage a multi-media conferencing facility on the internet in a computer shop if you paid them - but, and this is a big but i.e. but - it has to be admitted that this was a pretty hash on a clear evening following a wandering route down to Double Waters, a loop up to West Down returning to the river for the promised foot wetting (for some)- almost slightly enjoyable. Arrghh... sorry... forgetting what I'm saying- totally crap route, should get some real men to lay a proper hash etc. Which leads, inevitably, to the IAT scenario for the evening..... The saga starts with his car keys which, carefully stashed under a wheel arch earlier, have now gone missing. F Ferrets hasty departure from the car park confirmed lAT's suspicion that he was the perpetrator of this foul deed. Our Grand Master's half hour of searching and fulminating was only halted when he realised that he had been groping the wrong wheel arch and that they were safely on the other side where he had put them in the first place. Your comments on a postcard please. At the pub they had obviously been anticipating the influx of hungry hashers and arranged for their frying machine to break down. After I tried to order sausage, fried egg, fried bread, fried tomato, mushroom, chips and a side order of warm fat, the landlady cheerfully suggested a cheese sandwich and lovely green salad instead. The next on down will be at the Buckland Temperance Hall. The good news is the fryer works.
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