If You’re Hare, You’re Probably a lost soul!
By participating in the Mad March Hare festivities, frolics, frothy nonsense, and any associated bewilderments, you hereby acknowledge that the UKBOTA Management Team has *absolutely no control whatsoever* over the Mad March Hare himself.
This is largely because the Hare refuses to attend meetings, ignores all memos, and has been known to reorganise the scoring system according to the phase of the moon, the availability of teacups, or the relative shininess of nearby objects.
The UKBOTA Management therefore accepts *no responsibility*, liability, accountability, culpability, answerability, or even mild tut‑tutting for:
– The Hare’s actions
– The Hare’s inactions
– The Hare’s questionable arithmetic
– Any scoring methods devised while upside‑down
– Any scoring methods devised while right‑side‑up
– Any scoring methods devised while thinking about sandwiches
Participants are gently reminded that attempting to reason with the Mad March Hare is strictly discouraged, as it has historically resulted in further confusion, spontaneous riddles, and at least one incident involving a jam tart.
Proceed at your own delight, peril, or perplexity.
A word from the Hare
Hare we go, your still confused!
A Most Solemn Warning (Well… as Solemn as Anything Gets Hare)!
You stand, wobbling slightly, on the brink of a *Formal Enquiry* — capital F, capital E, capital “oh dear”.
Should you choose to proceed, you will be submitting your question, quandary, quibble, or quizzical squeak directly to the *Council of the Almighty Badger*.
This is no small matter.
The Badger, in his infinite wisdom (and even more infinite grumpiness), presides over all matters of confusion, befuddlement, misdirection, and general hare‑brained chaos. His tongue is sharp. His patience is short. His tea is always lukewarm, and he blames *everyone* for it.
He is flanked — as tradition demands — by his *Jury of the Mice*, who will peer at your enquiry with tiny spectacles, whisper amongst themselves, and occasionally squeak in judgemental harmony.
By pressing the button below, you acknowledge that:
– You are about to disturb a creature of great authority
– You may receive an answer, a riddle, or a stern sniff
– Fools are not suffered gladly
– Nor are semi‑fools, quarter‑fools, or fools in training
If you are certain — *absolutely certain* — that you wish to proceed…
*Press the button and hope the Badger is in a merciful mood.*
The Cartographic Catastrophe of the Mad March Hare!
Behold! A map so bewildering, so nonsensically detailed, so utterly unhelpful that even the Mad March Hare himself gets lost somewhere between Decree #3 and a suspiciously well-dressed squirrel.
This map serves no purpose.
It offers no guidance.
It answers no questions.
It may, in fact, raise several new ones — mostly about the mental state of whoever drew it.
And yet, it exists.
Because confusion is an art form.
And the Mad March Hare is its patron saint.
Please enjoy this visual masterpiece of misdirection.
Do not attempt to follow it.
Do not attempt to understand it.
And above all, do not ask the mice — they’re still arguing about whether “Licast” is real.
Carry on. Or don’t. The map won’t help either way.
And Finally ...
If by now you think this all sounds wonderfully confusing and weird — perfect, the hare will be absolutely thrilled! Should events tumble into chaos or generally defy all sense, the hare is entirely, unquestionably, and gleefully to blame.
