The Madding Crowd

Glittertits PissQUick Hashgate Steve Judy Cerberus Premature and dog Molly Flash John Krystyna Dave Chopstix Foghorn TT2 ShutupWally C5 Honeymonster Dwight Julia and baby Sam Iceman Potty Nutcracker Gwen Steamer Ms. Whiplash Spot HitchHiker James Baldrick Keith(but see below) SlowSucker Ben Canoeist Miranda and Emma the dog TinOpener Lonely and dog Beaver Hamlet and dog Chad Centaur Ladybird Motox Uplift Helleth Dave Mrs Blobby Utopia Liz Lou Caboose Spex Ian Vicky Linda Simon Neil(but see below) Anorak TrainSpotter Colin Karen Christian Nick BGB Septic Dumper WrongCircle Handful Butterfly Dribbler Cheating Headboy Itsyor Fiddler Cap’n Haystax

Fast, Floury Fun From Florence (and Zebedee)

No. Not a member of a highly dubious, white robe wearing group of nutters from the ‘Ole South but a pictorial reference to one of the most apposite Hash names ever awarded. While Ms. Whiplash sprinkled magic flour over his kneeling form and Motox poured a wizard brew over his head, Keith removed the round spectacles from his boyish features, downed his pint well and was re-named Harry Potter to rapturous applause. Our other renaming this evening was Neil who is known for his love of showbusiness (“Feathers and sequins. I’d die for both luvvie!”) and he was renamed Twanky; though he was nearly called Bottom in reference to the back-end of a pantomime Shakespearian horse. You may, of course, refer to him as T-Wanky if you wish.

But to the Hash. Fifteen million people turned up and crammed their cars into the car park. Followed soon after by the members of a local committee that was to meet there. Certain people, like Steve and Judy, had already settled themselves in the pub and were knocking back ale like market porters. Premature and Cerberus arrived early, just like Dave, Glitter(“I’ll just park it there then.”)Tits and PissQuick. We began the evening with a long service award to our revered GM, Foghorn, who was presented with a large pair of Y-fronts covered in bobbles of cotton wool for his 10 long years with BH³. It seems longer. But then I’ve only known him for three. While stepping into the underwear Chopstix rushed forward and safety-pinned various small plastic sheep to him. He was also handed a small, stuffed toy sheep which, like a good Hasher, he stuck down the front of the pants with just the head sticking out. As we ran along later he confided to me “That’ll never fall out. I’ve got me **** stuffed right up its ****.” How lucky we are indeed to have a gentleman and scholar at our helm…

Zebedee and Florence pointed our way out and we streamed on to the narrow, parked-car choked road in a desperate attempt to get run over by the vehicle trying to drive past the pub. Unfortunately, one or two shoves on ShutupWally proved non-fatal so we gave up and trotted after Itsyor and BGB to the first check where they eschewed the rather pleasant country track to the left. Spot, Baldrick and Potty went for it and were proved right. We were rewarded with the sight of a pair of timber wolves in the enclosure by the stile through which Premature tried to pull his dog, Molly, in half. She recovered quickly from this severe abuse and followed yours truly up the hill from the check to find the trail; shortly to lose it again. We all seemed to be running quite fast for some reason and this was obviously telling on Anorak and TrainSpotter who deliberately engaged me in conversation about restaurants and house prices in order to slow the proceedings. Even then, the pack streamed onwards (Florence stated later that it had been hard to figure out where everyone was because they were running so fast) led by… goodness knows; I wasn’t at the front was I? We hit a hill and Itsyor flew up it rapidly, whinging fitfully about his sore achilles (not as sore as Mr Blobby’s no doubt – get better soon, Colin), until we caught up with a thundering TinOpener and Glittertits and C5 and Honeymonster etc. Up and over the hill saw us cascading down past a slightly alarmed Arab horse to the regroup. I found I had a choice of chatting to the gnarled and wizened C5 or the smooth and lithe young Helleth. Surprisingly, I opted for the latter and we discussed art and design for a bit. As you do. After waiting for ShutupWally and Baldrick, Zeb pointed out the Long trail and off we went, Cheating showed off by sprinting for all of ten yards before blowing like an asthmatic whale and falling into the bushes to the side – a wasted husk. We followed the myopic Glittertits (he could not see a single blob) across a field of long grass where Itsyor offered to fall on top of Lou in the slippery track. Until she pointed out who might fall on top of him. I believe it was Ladybird. Itsyor clammed up immediately and concentrated on placing his footsteps carefully. Slowsucker and Fiddler were leading the way with Nick and James close behind. Some of us, including Caboose with the paper-thin soled running shoes, went wrong and had to double-back to follow Centaur and Lonely when we tripped lightly into the damp, dusky forest. Beaver, of course, found water and went for a paddle just before Iceman and I popped out on to a road and headed breathlessly uphill. Before diving off into more forest behind Ian and Vicky, the (“look at my T-shirt”) triathletes. I found myself next to the venerable TT2 as we passed a small shack with ‘The Cell’ written on it. We didn’t stop to investigate. And nor did Cheating and BGB who shot off into deep forest with each other. Looks were exchanged. Remarks were made. We carried on, not wanting to speculate further.

If anything it all speeded up from here. It’s a bit of a blur. Foghorn calling us back after a run over an ‘F’. Anorak daintily avoiding a shiggy puddle. Centaur repeating this. Steve and Ben running up a hill covered in short grass and small sculptures of dried cow poo. SlowSucker and Ladybird rushing past Steve and me down the next hill. The Bladebone pub appearing. This was where Lou screamed to Liz, “Do you know where we are!?” In shocked amazement that her friend had invited her to the Hash and they had run so far. But then the fragrant Florence appeared on the other side of the common so we knew we could not be too far from the end and we swept onwards, buoyed with new confidence. It began to rain. However, we were getting each check right – even that three-way one in the forest (sorry, Hares) and were pasting along at an alarming rate. We seemed to pass a number of grey-painted, throbbing, electricity sub-stations en route and there was a fine bit of shiggy here and there to skate about on. Just as we were beginning to wonder if our instincts were wrong and whether we would get absolutely soaking wet in the rain, the On Inn appeared and, gawd bless the Hares, they had placed it only about a hundred metres from the pub instead of the usual joke two kilometres. We skittered up the hill to find Dave lounging about outside the pub waiting for Helleth who presumably had the car keys and money. Serves him right for taking the Short trail.

A fearfully agreeable trail through some (for me, anyway) new and excellent countryside. We must thank Florence and her co-operative assistant Zebedee for a fine Hash. Pity we all ran so damn fast. We could have enjoyed it even more!
On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Motox presented the following :-

A damn fine effort from the GM, who looked like a hamster while trying to eat and drink at the same time

Up and Coming