448: The recovery begins

Scribe: St. Peter           Hare: Grandad

With the Christmas lull slowly wearing off, a few more bodies came out of the wood work and pushed the numbers back up to 10, including Bolton Bollock's. The hare (Grandad) turned up looking like he'd been the victim of a terrorist baker's attack, and after the Christmas greetings were out of the way we got down to hashing.

The FRB's were soon lost in the distance, with Cunter Ass Thompson leading the way. Bolton Bollocks must have be getting soft in the UK, he took one look at the pack and decided he would join St Peter in escorting some junior hashers. We proceeded at a leisurely pace and generally managed to do very little of the trail, diverting instead via the temple to have a look at the turtles, which happened to be conviently near the short cut we were taking.
 

 

Meanwhile the pack was in for a surprise as Grandad had found some virgin trail on the hill behind Ocean Gardens. After several false checks they worked it out and headed on home.

 
The circle followed, but not before Grandad found a nice sloppy dog shit to cushion his step on. The resulting odour caused a rapid relocation of the circle and inevitably, Mini Me threw up. Double punishment followed for the hare, and returning hashers Bolton Bollocks and Cunter Ass Thompson also getting down downs.
 

 

And so the circle proceeded in the usual downward spiral. See you all at the hash....

 
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