Cottagers

Foghorn Hashgate Cheating Krystyna ScarletPimpernel Amanda Tony and dog Barney Cerberus Premature Karen (now Desperate) Donut Dutch Glittert*ts P*ssquick BlouseBlazer Motox Spot Hitchiker Baldrick Vlad Drac Bl*wJob TinOpener Lilo and dog Emma Barry and dog Fido SlackBladder SlowSucker Lemming Mother Theresa Septic Snowballs Potty Nutcracker C5 Massive Clem Cloggs NonStick Shandyman Chopstix Mrs Blobby Lonely 2Bob Zebedee Florence

Following On From Last Week…

Poor Karen. She’s only been Hashing regularly for a short while – taking time off from more serious endeavour with Reading Road Runners – but has already earned herself a Hash Handle due to chatting up the barman at the pub after the Hash. Having waited until the bar was clear of customers she sidled up to it, hips swinging, and enquired of the frightened fellow huskily while fluttering her eylashes faster than a crack-addicted butterfly, “All on your own then big boy?” This blatant attempt at toyboy tantalisation was spotted by today’s RA, Glittert*ts, who promptly inducted her into the BH³ Hall of Fame by naming her ‘Desperate’ at the Down Downs. For reasons best known to himself he had brought along a bag of cooked rice and peas with which the unfortunate Desperate was anointed during her attempt to suck down a pint. The picture shows the poor girl being ‘helped’ by Lemming and Cerberus. Thanks go to unofficial paparazzo P*ssQuick for snapping the incident. I must point out that the photograph is now copyrighted to BH³ and any attempt to syndicate it or otherwise profit from national newspaper or magazine exposure will of course be dealt with under full rigour (i.e. we’ll send Baldrick round dressed only in a red leather posing pouch and moon boots).

Speaking of Lemming. He was in full 1970’s Trotskyite trade unionist flow following my 300 runs award, stating (despite being surrounded by five of us) that it was one law for the Committee and another for the poor downtrodden Hash plebs and berating poor Florence for not counting all his attendances. It seems he’s been with BH³ for more years than anyone cares to remember yet has still to attain the Holy Grail of 300 runs. More fulmination followed. He likened our democratically elected system to ‘Animal Farm’ which presumably means Napoleon (“a rather fierce-looking Berkshire boar”) is represented by Spex and LoudonTasteless takes the role of Snowball (“a more vivacious pig than Napoleon, quicker in speech and more inventive, but was not considered to have the same depth of character”). Simple, then, must be Squealer (“The others said of Squealer that he could turn black into white “). In which case I reckon Motox must be Boxer the strong carthorse (“universally respected for his steadiness of character and tremendous powers of work”). Not sure who might be the mare Clover (“a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal”) – I’ll leave that one to you to work out and no, I will not publish any suggestions! Lemming squeaked on and on, suddenly changing literary horses in mid stream. He yearned for his 300 runs, desperately desired it, calling it ‘My Precious’ with bulging eyes and hopping about the Public Bar searching for a fish (at least he was wearing more than a loincloth at the time). Florence finally ended it with a swift kick in the Gollum and he crawled over to a corner, gurgling and worriedly trying to count two. He still whispered about ‘My Precious’ but I don’t think he was on about the same thing.

I guess I’d better write about the trail which geographically was an extension of last week’s. This became obvious when I bumped into Cloggs blundering through the bushes who agreed she was still trying to lay the last bit of her and NonStick’s route. Blundering is certainly a word that applied to us on the day since the interestingly laid trail caused us all sorts of confusion. None more so than when C5, Lonely and I happened upon a curious flour sign down a forest track. It looked like an upside down ‘F’ with an extra little finger on the opposite side of the usual two. We pondered it awhile and finally came to the conclusion that it was a Plimsoll Line, arranged there to ensure we didn’t sink too deeply into the forest. We trotted back along the track only to find the Pack swarming towards us like the Mongol hordes, led by Dutch and Donut (Nice to see her back isn’t it? A tad peaky mayhap but nothing a good drag through the shiggy wouldn’t set right). Iceman informed us sternly that the Plimsoll Line was actually an arrow. He may not have red hair and an impenetrable accent but he is Scottish. We agreed that of course it was and slunk away with raised eyebrows. One of the features of this Hash was the number of times the FRBs met the walkers. Which is as it should be. So it was very pleasant to see Mrs Blobby, Nutcracker, Hitchiker et al almost every ten minutes. Motox, who is supposed to be walking, thundered through forest and briar like a four-wheel drive. It is surely time he started running again.

Now a snippet of news that brought a quizzical expression to more than one face, if not jaw-dropping disbelief. It seems that Dumper has gone off ski-ing with ShutupWally. Just the two of them. No-one else. I know it’s difficult to believe. Dumper is usually thought of as a level-headed, sensible kind of chap. We may have to re-think our views on his character following this. Assuming he gets out of it with all his mental faculties intact. Personally, I doubt it and expect to see him gazing vacantly, drooling and muttering to himself on his next Hash event. No change there then.

This Gobsheet is shooting off at tangents just like we all did on the trail. Checks with multiple Falses caused us unknown problems. None greater than Vlad who yelled a mighty ‘On On’ at what he thought was a Check only to return embarrassed when we told him it was actually an ‘F’. Certainly the Hares might like to attend a few circle drawing classes but this ‘F’ wasn’t that bad. Bomber and Florence also decided to ignore a clear ‘F’, burning off along the wrong track before sheepishly cutting back to the trail. I must just mention the rarely seen 2Bob who I spotted crossing the A4 next to a pedestrian island. As you know these objects are designed to ensure the safety of the pedestrian. Pity then that 2Bob looked back at a crucial moment and tripped over its’ kerb, fortunately failing to hurl himself into the path of an oncoming juggernaut. And talking of making a complete a*se of oneself we need to look no further than SlackBladder just before the Down Downs. He was kindly bringing out some of the beer to the garden when he failed to negotiate a tiny ramp and lurched sideways, smashing a very large flowerpot and disappearing behind a low wall in a flurry of feet. Ever mindful of the Hash he managed to save every pint from spillage while still providing the best entertainment BH³ has seen for some time. Incidentally, BH³ wishes his amour OldDog a speedy recovery from the patch of distemper she is going through. Spot of Bob Martin’s powder and a good brush should do it.

Sadly, there just is not enough space on these Gobsheets to write about everything. Perhaps I should reduce the font size to be able to pack more in. Maybe not. It’s bad enough already watching Cerberus screwing up her face and trying to focus on the thing at arms’ length like a mole emerging in the middle of a municipal lawn trying to read the ‘Keep Off The Grass’ sign. Suffice it to say that the “long Long” as described by Iceman was certainly pretty long and it twisted and turned in the forest more than a knotted snake. It was thoroughly enjoyed by all of us. Thanks guys.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

Standin RA Glittert*ts brought his own bag of cooked rice and peas and presented the following :-

Very nice indeed, Florence

Up and Coming