Glitterati

Foghorn Chopstix Spot HitchHiker Hashgate ShutupWally Iceman Premature Cerberus Baldrick Honeymonster Caboose Simple Soreskin DunnyStumbler Ms Whiplash Salome Butterfly Dribbler Dutch Quack Cloggs Twanky Spex Potty Nutcracker Kayak HeyBabe Centaur Flash TinOpener Miranda Lonely Posh Bomber Muff Mrs Muff BlowJob ShitShoveller Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Utopia Uplift Robert OldDog SlackBladder Gabby Viv Cheating Sue5 C5 HeadBoy Kristina Florence HarryPotter Helena Chris 6inches Septic Dumper Fart Itsyor

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Since we seemed to reverse much of our direction on this trail and hit a number of Back Checks and Bars I thought it only right to write this Gobsheet backwards. So let me start with Glittertits and PissQuick’s excellent BBQ after the Hash. About 75 people (some not seen in months – amazing what the promise of cheap food will do) wandered hungrily into the newly refurbished garden, complete with waterfall. A useful feature this, since it allowed certain Hashers to baptise ShutupWally in its watery depths just before the fellow let off a rocket, his ears ringing with calls to “strap him to it!”. Glittertits presided over the outside grill, prodding at the slowly charring bodies of the small rodents, all feet in the air and fixed grins, who had not managed to escape during the upheaval of recent building works. Soreskin was obviously into something fresher since she picked up a large, damp, wriggling earthworm from the path. I couldn’t bring myself to watch and joined the food queue with Twanky. This was also a mistake for, apart from insisting on showing me the capacity of his enormous trouser pockets (enormous pockets, not the trousers) he took one look at Glittertits dressed in his professional white chef’s top with knotted neckerchief and asked me, somewhat too eagerly, “Is he dressed as a sailor?” He topped that as I leant over in front of him to check the bread by asking (again, too eagerly for my liking) “Can I grab one of those buns?” We need a Hash floozy to straighten the lad out. Any takers? Ms Whiplash…?

We had ended the Hash in the useful large car park next to the pretty little Church in the yard of which DunnyStumbler confided that not only had she managed to stay upright during the entire Hash but that even she couldn’t get lost on her way back to the car at this point. Unlike Cerberus who had naffed off somewhere which left husband Premature ‘waiting at the Church’ having been ‘left in the lurch’ (join in if you want to sing along). Talking of Premature, I am still wondering why, before the start of the Hash, he wandered over to my car for what I thought was a friendly chat only to whip out his horribly wizened and stunted old feller and water the grass next to me! A curious (anti-)social phenomenon and one which I hope he won’t repeat. At least he got lost on the Hash by foolishly following Cheating.

To rewind to the start we had all hoofed off through the churchyard at the usual early optimistic pace, hitting the first Check in the following field and spreading out like a splash of paint thrown from a can before being called back by the omnipresent Motox, wearing, for reasons unknown, a green mini-dress. I have to say that sort of thing does it for me when modelled by Kate Moss… but not by Motox. This was the first of the cunning Back Checks which kept the Pack quite nicely together. We headed off past a pig farm, following Itsyor and C5, the latter sporting a haircut of which Kojak would have been jealous. At least he won’t have to go again for several months. And, of course, there was nothing to catch on the low brambles he led us through in an entirely wrong direction a little later.

Now I’m all for sexual diversity and what other people get up to with whom or with what is fine by me. But I must object to the way Mr Blobby blatantly attempted to roger me in the woods, using the excuse that he slipped as we clambered up a rise in the ground. Obviously the fellow’s been watching too much gay time TV. I should keep an eye on him Mrs Blobby. Wean him off ‘Strictly Dance Fever’ and back on to ‘Scrapyard Challenge’. You’ll be doing him a favour.

The Regroup appeared really quite soon. Just after a fearful Back Check by a road that totally confused everyone, even Mrs Blobby, Utopia and Uplift who had short-cutted to reach it. We milled about on a small wooden bridge while Motox banged on about Short and Long trails. Curiously, everyone ignored the Short and stonked off towards a hilly, off-road quad bike/motor cycle track in the next field. The Hares had laid Bar Checks along the base of the snaking track and many Hashers accepted the implicit invitation to run across them, thus leaving other poor, misguided fools – Bomber, Itsyor, Cloggs etc to toil up the smooth, mud cliffs like termites up a mound; but considerably more out of breath. You don’t see your average termite, having finally reached the top, flat on its back, wheezing, red-faced and gasping for a fag. Incidentally, Dumper asked me to record that he flashed past me on the first hill like a greyhound past a sloth, a fact I am only too happy to state as absolute truth. Once past this Tough Guy-style leg-sapper we gridlocked up against a curious stile that involved climbing over one bit and wriggling under another. This held up proceedings and Posh and Septic decided to slide under the gate next to it. This meant laying on their backs in a somewhat risqué pose which, of course, engendered a number of ribald comments from the lower class Hashers but our two ladies survived without their reputations (or running trousers) in tatters.

I began following Foghorn and a very confused Lonely back across a field of waist-high wheat that we had trotted across in the opposite direction earlier. Going back over old ground doesn’t suit Lonely’s scientific mind and we had to reassure the poor fellow that all was well. We hurtled into a fairly dense wood that slowed our progress and I stuck with Cerberus and DunnyStumbler since they seemed to know where they were going. Unlike Spex, who staggered about in front of us like a drunk baglady until suddenly taking a wrong turn and disappearing off on her own. Presumably looking for an old supermarket trolley to push. When we eventually popped out on to a road our spirits fell for there was ShutupWally. Tonight he was at his most vociferous, irritating anyone near him with inane babblings. Every person subjected to his prattling experienced the same discomfort level of a dog with a flea that just won’t go away. We pulled away rapidly and caught up with Cloggs who told me an amusing story about C5. It seems that, having been warned not to trip over a flattened chain link fence he still managed to crash to earth after stumbling over a particularly noticeable log a metre or so on. We really must take cameras on the Hash in future. Another patch of dense woodland appeared and we got thoroughly lost in it, finally finding tarmac about 50 metres down from the On Inn and an incredulous Motox who was insisting that the trail came out of the forest at that point, rather than where we had appeared. We could only shrug in a Gallic manner and dive off into a field of, I think, bean plants whose leathery stems and leaves whacked the legs on our way over to the churchyard and thoughts of Glittertits’ rat roast. Yum. Yum.

It was a clever trail that managed to miss most of the ubiquitous tarmac in the area – there was only one long road bit – and the Pack kept together almost all the way. Thanks to Glittertits and Motox.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Dumper presented the following :-

Not too bad by either

Up and Coming