Confused, of Twyford

Spot Hashgate Chopstix ShandyMan Iceman Mother Theresa Lemming and Lemming’s dad Potty Nutcracker Richard Kath TinOpener Lilo and dog Emma BlouseBlazer Spex LoudonTasteless Steamer Dutch Twanky Dumper Septic C5 Sue5 Simple DunnyStumbler Posh Bomber TC Whinge Quack Krystyna Baldrick OldFart SlipperyDick Claire CIAC HeyBabe The Tremblers Effin Dribbler Motox Claire HarryPotter BlowJob Florence NonStick Cloggs Ms. Whiplash Salome ShitShoveller Clint SlowSucker Emma Stuart Trainspotter Anorak CreamPuff Groper - a returnee after many years

Horsing About

On this beautifully, clear and warm October morning Spex had decided to take a break from the hurly-burly of showbiz and her latest telly work to appear at the Hash. No doubt you’ve seen her in ‘Waking The Dead’ as Dr Grace Foley. Obviously, the pressure of fame is taking its’ toll since she was seen staggering over to the bottle bank with bags full of empty bottles. Spare a thought also for her husband, LoudonTasteless, who under the floodlit glare of public life has taken to self-harming. He attempted to saw his finger off in his garden earlier in the week. Simple, who later recorded an all–time best in the ‘Longest Ever Down-Downs By An RA’ competition and a highly commended in the ‘How To Pi** Off Your Wife By Giving Her A Down Down’ trophy surprised Chopstix by requesting a peek at the knobbly bits on her bottom. He tried to cover this by pretending he meant the bottom of her running shoes but I think we can make up our own minds about that. I am quite sure there are of course no knobbly bits on Chopstix’ bottom and, for the purpose of accurate reporting, I am willing to inspect the item in question on behalf of BH³.

Earlier in the day CallGirl and Caboose had wandered round the trail dropping flour willy-nilly and decided to lay the Regroup beneath the sweeping boughs of a fine and ancient oak tree in a field that was filled with small, white Shetland ponies. One of the little chaps looked up from his grass nibbling as they ambled past. “Clarence.” He said to another Shetland grazing nearby. “What the ponynuts are those two humans doing?” Clarence peered out from under a ragged fringe. “Beats me Buttons.” He replied. “Humans are always doing weird things. Why don’t they just relax and eat grass?” Clarence’s non-stop grass-eating culminated in a sudden and prolonged explosive creaking from his rear end. Buttons shifted uneasily as the invisible cloud began to engulf him. “Er. Let’s go and see what they’re doing.” He gasped quickly and the two ponies trotted over to where the Hares were laying the flour ‘RG’ and talking about the Hash. Cocking their furry ears forwards the two ponies quickly gathered that there would be rather a lot more humans running through their field very shortly. As the Hares ambled off Buttons cocked his head to one side, looking sly. “What are you cooking up?” Asked Clarence. “Something to do with the other humans I’ll bet.” Buttons nodded his long head. “I have a cunning plan.” He said, issuing a whinnying laugh and licking the flour letters into slightly modified shapes. He finished and viewed his work with a toothy grin.

Us ‘other humans’ had enjoyed a fair old tramp along the tarmac, up over the railway (we did this a few times during the trail – Caboose loves railways with a passion matched only by that between Heathcliff and Cathy) and finally to a Bar-11 which rather foxed SlowSucker and Stuart. The former pointed out that some bright spark thought the two side-by-side flour bars meant ‘2’ in Roman numerals. This was a very saddening thought. After a brief and fruitless foray with BlouseBlazer et al beside a mucky stream we finally happened upon Clarence and Buttons’ field, issuing delighted ooh’s and aah’s and stroking the friendly creatures who gave all the appearance of innocent equine patience. Little did we know. We gathered beneath the old oak tree, next to a circle surrounding the shaky letters ‘P O’ as left following Buttons’ oral attention. To a general snorting of laughter someone mentioned that it was actually possible that even Lemming’s feet might touch the ground either side if he tried to ride one of the ponies. We congratulated Spot on his excellent time in last week’s marathon and Trembler informed us he’d run a beast of an uphill first leg in the relay. I was also told why returnee Groper had got his Hash name – ladies beware! We sped off to enjoy a little mud splashing with Lemming and found Trainspotter had joined us. The little ponies watched us go. “Right lads.” Called Buttons to the others. “On with the plan.” They chortled gleefully and trotted rapidly in single file through a gap in the hedge.

Meanwhile C5 and I were following the Hash along a narrow muddy trail where Lemming and Groper were trying to out-mud each other using the few puddles in the ruts. We all fetched up at a stile and climbed over, rather amazed to see… a herd of little, white Shetland ponies. And one large dobbin who seemed to be protecting them. “Erm. Didn’t we just…” We all thought, confusion clouding the expressions and tangling the foot direction. Even the ever-cool Posh seemed perplexed and almost reached for her bottle of smelling salts. We completely messed up the Check but finally picked up the trail and stomped off haltingly. As the last Hasher left the field the horses burst into uncontrolled whinnying and delighted neighing. Clarence rolled on his back, kicking and farting with delight at how well their trick had worked. Even the normally stolid dobbin stamped a mighty hoof in appreciation. “Ok guys.” Wheezed Buttons, tears of laughter rolling down his face. “Once more for luck!” And he charged off towards a hole in the fence, kicking his heels up, followed by the gleeful herd.

We had reached the Hares joke loop. It was in the shape of a ‘D’ and I believe I was the only one stupid enough to gasp my way round the curve, meeting the grinning faces of Whinge, LoudonTasteless, Motox, NonStick and just about everyone else coming up the straight line. At least someone did it Hares! By this time Caboose seemed to be laying parts of the trail as we went along, particularly in the muddy track that ran parallel to a narrow road. Slightly confusing but not as much as what we saw in the field on our right-hand side. We were startled to see… a contentedly grazing herd of little white Shetland ponies! It was too much for us humans to take in. We ran by with disbelieving eyes. Some denying they had actually seen them. Everyone rather eager to get back to the pub for a nerve-steadying pint and a sit down in a quiet corner. As the last confused Hasher disappeared from sight a cacophony of whinnying erupted from the ponies who leant against each other for support or rolled about in the grass. Clarence offered Buttons a high five hoof and the two clattered feet together at a job well done. “Best fun I’ve had for years.” Gasped Buttons finally. “Well done chaps. Everyone back to the oak tree field. We can eat the rest of that flour.” And they all trotted away happily.

We were now on a long, straightish trail with no stopping, passing Quack, ShitShoveller, Cloggs and a number of others as we sped breathlessly past streams and pools and anglers and God knows what. It all began to get blurry. Especially after the On Inn under a bridge and the further ½ mile following NonStick, who was not going to give up his position lightly. Eventually, we staggered out on to the Twyford tarmac, still puzzled by all the Shetlands but infinitely happier now the pub was in sight.

Thanks, Caboose and CallGirl for a fun Hash on a superb day. On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Simple took full advantage of a captive audience and presented the following :-

A measured, unhurried quaff

Up and Coming

Ramble With Motox

… at the Hinds Head, Aldermaston Village on Saturday October 29^th at 2:45 pm. Gridref 588653. Motox gave me this information written on the back of a piece of paper headed, “Make Your Own Celtic Clothing”. An interesting insight to how he spends his leisure time…