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Report 1442 and Link to earlier Reports
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How on earth can I begin a ramble-on on the state of my Pre-Hash, post xmas pissup environment including; waking with a dead crocodile in my throat, raising James from the dead after he had pressed the "fuck-off" button and not the "Snooze-Please" button on his alarm clock, entering into a "You younger generation have no moral fibre - why won't you get up?" discussion (with Chunderos - failed), without mentioning the cause of all this .... THE SH3 EXCELLENT XMAS EXTRAVAGANZA!
Low Profile (Hmm seems like a re-naming might be necessary!), First-On and J.Arthur produced an outstanding event, the GM stayed awake, I (and I suspect many, if not all the others) got pissed, danced, groped, reeled, rabbitted, etc. til "Gott sei dank" we had an earlier than the usual "Gurney keep the Disco til 4:00" ending.
Dr. Death had the honour of being co-car driver, to cover for the ailing Mrs., and off we set to dump a car full of whisky at the Whisky Stop and proceed to a pretty empty, at 10:50, West Clanger CP.
At the dot of 10:58 all hell broke loose, and the dregs of the previous night streamed in - but still no GM! (I heard later that he and SBJ spent a pleasant couple of hours visiting all the car parks in the North Downs and an empty (at 12:45) Wishing Well!).
We started in rain and ran on, in and under old evidence of same. An accidental bit of tresspassing, which avoided a few hundred yards of road, led to the best incident with an irate "Land Owner" since the "Mad Shouting Lady with the Horse".
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Some mile or so from the said tresspass, on a perfectly reasonable public footpath, the new "Owner of the Year" informed any that would listen that, "You have been tresspassing! That field you were on is private"."Oh!" says I, "IT'S PRIVATE LAND, KEEP OFF!" I bellow (in sensitively dulcit tones) in the direction of the oncomin' hoard. "It's not my land, but it belongs to an old gentleman." She says. "IT'S PRIVATE LAND, BUT IT'S NOT THIS LADY'S LAND IT BELONGS TO AN OLD GENTLEMAN, KEEP OFF!" I keep the hounds informed. "Stop being Stupid!" She says! "Sorry" I says, "I thought they should know, bye for now".
Enough of fun, soon after this I have to skulk off to get to the Whisky Stop, Red-Eye smells the whisky and I can't shake him off so I have an assistant.
The pack turn up in two distinct groups, so the Tasting is somewhat extended, we all raise a glass (or six) to Lionel and then lurch off on our merry.
Back at the Clanger CP, a second hand pollypin of "Barnes' Beer" provided the "2 pint wonder cures" needed and, since nobody volunteered to be RA, there were apparently no sinners, saints, namings or or other excuses for throwing beer on the ground.
For those who missed the "Tequil'over and FYOS 2002 Review" (or whatever we called it) CDs will be available for appropriate quantities of beer!
OnON
Tequil'over
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