As the assembled masses huddled outside the Fleur de Lis, a hush descended as the sheer enormity of the undertaking became clear. Ken, with an icy-cold stare and warped grin, explained that there would not only be the traditional Long (L) and Short (S) but a Long Short (LS), a Short Short (SS) and a Medium (M). What Ken failed impart was that the Long would actually be a Very Long (FL!).
At this stage Hawkeye nodded sagely and explained to the novices that the unit of measure being described here by our Hare was not an imperial mile but rather the Kenometre, a lesser known unit of distance often skipped by the International Bureau of Weights and Measures which approximates [Key word, that - Ed] to 1½ miles as the crow flies.
And then we were off – but who knew we would be gone so long?
To be fair, there were clues… Ken readily admitted he had used up Buckinghamshire’s entire reserves of flour laying the trail and had instead resorted to the use of chalk to clearly define the way through the chalky Chilterns – what could possibly go wrong?!
The going was soft to heavy as we trotted up the many inclines, ascents and slopes with progress steady until suddenly everything became all Blair Witchy.
Sooper 'the Abstemious' was suddenly cast into a small wooden yurt and subjected to recordings of the lost and forgotten child hashers from previous Kenathons.
"Help us, we’re lost. Please Ken, no more on-backs!" they cried. Only through the concerted disinterest of the milling throng could Sooper be pulled out of his hypnotic trance-like state. That and the thought of drinking absolutely no beer when we eventually, if ever, got back to the pub.
From this highest of high points, we continued our climb for a suspiciously long time, until the appreciative rabble (read 'elite athletes') were rewarded with what can only be described as one of the country's most spectacular views, taking in as it does the marvellous, majestic, magnificence of the vale of Oxford (or at least would have done if we weren't all daft enough to hash at night.)
Finally, our uphilliness gave way to significant downhilliness and the promise of a well deserved On-Inn, possibly before dawn, but not before the obligatory last ditch on-back, which we can all agree speaks volumes about how this hare gets his kicks… The feeling of relief as we rejoined our walking brethren was palpable.
As beverages were imbibed and chips were dipped, Ken could be seen visibly glowing with pride, as it was announced by our esteemed General Manager that Keyboard Ken's was definitely bigger than Zorro's. Well done Ken!
Joke from a different Ken
– "I’m not a fan of the new one-pound coin – but there again, I hate change."