Loads of People

Spot HitchHiker Septic Hashgate Cerberus and dog Molly Potty Nutcracker Gwen Gutbucket ShutupWally Centaur Baldrick Motox Karen SlipperyNipple Glittertits C5 Honeymonster Chopstix Foghorn PissQuick TinOpener Florence Lonely and dog Beaver Grant Ms. Whiplash Salome Neil Christian Liz Lou Iceman Fiddler Itsyor Hamlet BGB Steamer Muff Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Utopia Ben Handful Dwight Flash John HeadBoy Cheating… and far too late, SlowSucker and Matthew

A Damn Fine Hash

The Hares originally billed to lay this Hash extravaganza were Mr and Mrs Blobby but due to a couple of things they were unable to do the business (er, if you’ll pardon the expression) and Dumper and Uplift kindly stepped in. One of the things was a calf injury to Mr Blobby. It seems he was weaving his way drunkenly across a field containing a herd of youthful beeves when they took exception to the spotty pink object (he was not wearing his Blobby suit at the time). In the ensuing stampede, the poor chap was mowed down by a seething mass of mooing animals. When they had all thundered over him, they thundered back. Then once again for good measure, stopping briefly where he lay to practise a spot of Flamenco dancing, before trotting lightly off to a particularly succulent grassy patch to mull over the action and congratulate each other while the good Blobby feebly raised his hoof-marked, prone body from the Blobby-shaped impression in the mud and weakly tried to scrape off some off the cow poo. At least, that’s what he told me…

The Turners Arms basked in fine, evening sun as a large crowd gathered. We enjoyed the sight of Centaur riding his clown bike with a large lump of inner tube sticking out of the split tyre. We applauded as Dwight turned up pushing his bike following a puncture. Poor chaps. They spent most of the night discussing or participating in bicycle repairs. Newish people Gwen, Grant, Christian, Liz and Lou all re-appeared, along with virgin John who thoroughly enjoyed his later Down Down.

“Left at the oak tree.” Said Dumper at the On Out and various old hands sped off to the well-known spot and into the playing field. Actually quite a lot of people adopted a leisurely style for the early part of this Hash and why not? It was a fine evening and there was no rush. Potty, Glittertits and Muff strolled across the football pitch. Cerberus skipped lightly. It was ok. We felt good. Smiles and laughter were all around. Somehow we entered a kind of petrified forest. It looked as though most of the saplings and trees had been on fire and each branch brushed us with soot so we looked a bit like some left-over sweeps from Mary Poppins. C5 and I were lucky(?) enough to have caught up with Uplift who nodded onwards. Ha ha! We thought, stooping our way smilingly through the charcoal. Until the sound of Foghorn et al calling the On to our left brought us up short. C5 noted wryly that Uplift had been, “…pulling our collective plonkers.” And led us left through some rather clingy vegetation. Whatever, the pack was keeping together and the FRBs were ending up at the back so it was all going rather well. Not quite so well for Dwight, who I found astride a deep and wide ditch having been caught in two minds as to whether to jump or not. He managed to heave himself over and he and Fiddler led a long cruise through the forest to an excellent bar check. On going back Hamlet shot off in the wrong direction and the rest of us almost got it right but lost the trail. The thing finally took us back to the regroup/beer stop by a large pile of logs – just past the bar! Nice one, Hares. It was most amusing watching Iceman heroically attempting to wrench, knock and stamp off the top of Ms. Whiplash’s lager before admitting red-faced defeat and handing it back sheepishly. Foghorn finally managed to get the thing off but lost most of the beer when it spurted out of the top. There was some severe dog abuse by Honeymonster and TinOpener who, while pretending to tickle Beaver’s tummy with their feet, actually gave him a good shoeing when they thought Lonely was looking the other way. Liz and Lou declined the booze in favour of slurps from the little bottles of gin they had tucked in their running belts. It was interesting to note that habitual trouser-wearers like Spot, Pissquick and Glittertits were today wearing shorts due to the heat. Neil wandered over surrounded by his own damp fog bank and a myriad of insects to prove just how hot we were. He kindly offered to swap T-shirts with me but I politely demurred. Septic thoughtfully called Dumper over to placate the miserable old git of a lone ranger who had ear-bashed me with the same moans about “phoning the estate office” last year. Dumper smiled and nodded benignly, placed an avuncular arm around the whinging bucolic’s shoulders, led him behind a large tree… and gave him a damn good Beaver-inspired shoeing too. Or would have liked to. He’s too good a diplomat and agreed heartily with the rustic fellow while making a mental note to forget everything he had just said.

The Long trail split from here and we merrily invited some of the Short Trailers to join us as we loped away. Most forwent the pleasure politely. While Gwen snorted like a startled warthog and uttered a “Get stuffed big nose!” As she sped off down the Short. Ah well; one can but try. We followed Motox initially. Then it all began to go horribly wrong. I had got lucky at a couple of checks and found myself alone at the third. Since the previous two trails had gone straight on I thought I would turn right and felt a swell of pleasure as the fourth blob appeared. Then, nothing. Right down to an old fence. And turning round I saw the rest of the Hash hurtling in the opposite direction! Luckily, Glittertits had gone roughly the same way and we trotted back to join Uplift, Mrs Blobby and Utopia. “Erm.” Said Uplift, with a goldfish-like stare. She tottered about blindly for a bit. “I can’t remember which way it goes.” Glitter and I, of course, took this fine opportunity to arch an eyebrow each, click our tongues and shake our heads sanctimoniously. I decided not to mention the time that Greenfly and I laid a trail and got the entire pack as well as ourselves lost. Luckily, we found the trail and Glitter and I cantered away, thoroughly enjoying our forest run and chat. We eventually caught up with Dumper and Handful, hard at it in the woods. Passed them and caught up with SlipperyNipple and Pissquick. Slippery, I must add, uttered the quietest “On On” in history as we went by. A little more tarmac saw the ‘On Inn’ appear and we arrived back at a pub full of Hashers laughing at ShutupWally who had hidden his car keys in a plant bowl, little realising that the automatic watering would come on. Tee hee!

Many thanks to Uplift and Dumper. The trail was thoroughly enjoyable and well laid. ‘Nother one please! On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Motox presented the following :-

Up and Coming