The Pack Saddle Posse

Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Utopia Uplift Hashgate Ms Whiplash PoisonedChalice Snowballs(aka Jon – see Down Downs) Foghorn Chopstix Twanky TinOpener HoneyMonster Caboose Dutch Donut Potty C5 TurdTreader SlackBladder Dumper Septic Posh Dave DeerHunter OldFart Itsyor Motox Judy Lucy ScarletPimpernel Simple Soreskin DunnyStumbler Kayak HeyBabe Katherine Flash Jenks Florence PissQuick Glittertits HitchHiker Gabby Viv Abi ShitShoveller Cheating Zebedee

A Spot (On) Trail

First of all, on behalf of BH³, let me wish BGB a speedy recovery from his back problem, caused while attempting to perform the rather difficult sexual position 32a (with cow horns and galoshes). Unfortunately, a combination of a high wardrobe and particularly springy bed caused a trampoline effect which left him with a ricked back and the embarrassment of explaining the situation to the firemen who were called to remove him from the large brass doorknob (using a tub of Flora and a crowbar) from which he was hanging by a certain orifice – I won’t cause any of you sensitive souls distress by stating which one. Suffice to say sitting is a problem. While I’m at it I would like to thank the generous Florence for stepping in as Gobsheet printer in addition to her task as Hash Tick. What a nice lady. Must buy her a beer sometime. BH³ must also thank Spot for standing in for BGB to lay this Hash. He was to have been assisted by SlowSucker but he decided not to bother, preferring to sit in traffic on the M25 for some reason. This didn’t stop him from trying to take all the credit at the Gather Round though we were having none of his blandiloquence.

Following Trembler’s epic Hash dash last week my achilles decided to protest at all this running malarky so I was lucky enough to spend most of this Hash in the Pack or with the SCBs. What a revelation! A whole new way of Hashing. None of this out-of-breath, so-much-to-do-so-little-time rubbish. Not only that but a sympathetic Soreskin offered to rub ice cubes on certain parts of me and suggested some RICE. Not the usual athletic recovery acronym but Really Interesting Caressing of the Extremity. I think that’s what she said…

So having On Outed the usual way across the A4074 we then looped round a field and back across it! Spot was having none of the usual trail and led us on a cunning serpentine circuit via woodland paths where Caboose and I fell to discussing achilles tendons. We had just got level with Donut when I was explaining that “there’s quite a big bit that slides into a sort of sheath” and illustrating the point with a finger stuck through a finger and thumb on my other hand when she exploded with guffaws and fell into a bush. She’s a smutty-minded little strumpet at times. So where did we go then? Why, back across the A4074 of course where Simple and Motox, describing themselves as a ‘pair of oxen’ thundered past. Last week’s Gobsheet running style descriptions obviously got noticed. At least they thundered past rather than over me. I’d never have moved again.

After a little tarmac we had a short detour through a little forest of nettles. Most people, like Gabby, Viv and Dave skipped through with a bit of a gasp and an attempt to stick a branch through his ear but Twanky truly lived up to his theatrical background. Remember Paul Burrell in “I’m a Celebrity…”? This was even worse/better. Girlish squeals issued from him as his lilywhite skin brushed the stinging leaves. He issued camply from the undergrowth, hands to mouth, eyes rolled upwards. “Oh my God luvvy. I’m stung simply to death!” He stood on one foot, pivoting the other to view the back of his thigh – as if he was checking his seam was straight - “God darlings!” He wailed. “I’ll never get principal boy with legs like Ena Sharples.” And he fled in tearful distress, elbows in, hands flapping.
(some of the factual details may be a little distorted…)

SlowSucker had actually deigned to appear at the nearby Check and deposit a flour arrow in the direction of the Long trail before sitting down for a bit of a rest after his tremendous effort. I understand this route wandered off down the valley to Mapledurham then back up the rather large hill before rejoining the the shorter route. Such a shame I was unable to join in really. However, I did manage to make one Hasher’s day. Honeymonster. His eldritch scream of delight, “Look everyone. I’m overtaking Hashgate!” caused a variety of woodland creatures to bolt for safety as he tore past at 3mph. Also tearing past in a scurrying heap of femininity were Mrs Blobby, Utopia and Uplift. I was touched by their caring concern as they left me right at the back, choking on their dust after they had elbowed their way past like a Roller Derby. As they disappeared into the distance it was interesting to watch their group running style – trot for 50 metres, slow to a walk and gab away like a bunch of women in a launderette, then trot again just in case Hashgate tries to catch up. Eventually, I did and we met up with Dumper who was lounging idly by a Check in the hope that someone else would find the trail. After a minor discussion we agreed that the direction marked “Private – Keep Out” was probably not the way to go and, after tripping down a grassy hill, came upon Ms Whiplash and HitchHiker. A rarely experienced occurrence in my book so we slowed to their pace for a chat and the equally rare sight of Septic and Honeymonster on a distant hill checking it out and running back from a False. Most amusing. Almost as amusing as Ms Whiplash’s story about a Hasher some years ago who tried to convince her he was a gynaecologist… After a while I realised that the rotation of the earth was faster than the speed we were walking and it was actually causing us to go backwards. No wonder it takes Ms Whiplash and HitchHiker so long to finish!

I eventually caught up with Septic by the On Inn who was gasping her way up the 1% hill past the golf course like an Atlantic cod who’s slipped out of the net on to the trawler deck and is frantically flapping its way towards the scuppers. Feeling a bit peckish I nearly had her battered and fried on the spot but no chips you see so I left her to it. Mind you, I nearly had my chips crossing that blasted A4074 again to get to the pub. I had to have a drink to calm down.

So nice one, Spot, as ever. Though this is a well-known area you managed to change the trail to make it interesting. And only lost lost a few Hashers as roadkill on the “Thirteen Bends of Death” as the A4074 is affectionately known.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Glittertits presented the following :-

The cake went down quickly – but not the half-pint

Up and Coming