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The Pack Saddle,
Chazey Heath (an old haunt)


Ms Whiplash, J, Salome

Tricks Or Treats?

Vlad Drac Hashgate Honeymonster Fannybag Dave Aunty Sybil Uncle Don DunnyStumbler Iceman BlouseBlazer Whinge TC SlipperyNipples Spot Spex LoudonTasteless Tony PP Claire and dog Barney Cerberus BillyBullshit SlowSucker SlackBladder LittleStiffy Posh Bomber TinOpener Dribbler Butterfly Flash Shirley John Quack ShutupWally with dog Bonnie Effin C5 PissQuick Glittertits Anorak Trainspotter ScarletPimpernel JustMoist from Paris Cheating Florence Zebedee

Nightmare On Chazey Heath

The creatures flapped, hopped and crabbed sideways into the meeting place, blinking in the too-bright, warm sunshine. Night of The Living Dead meets The Shining. Two fierce hell-hounds: Barney and Bonnie skittered about; the former wearing devil horns on his collar; the latter fiercely shaking off the witches’ hat that her master sought to place on her head. Her master was ShuptupWally, wearing a long , black cloak and fright mask. Not quite as frightening as Slowsucker’s hair-tufted, bald and gnarled mask that many did not realise he was wearing until told. Posh, rather worryingly, floated in wearing a corkscrew-curl long, blonde wig that put us in mind of Dolly Parton on a bad hair day, or a 70’s porn star. She had also blacked a tooth and grown a couple of Vesuvian spots on her chin for the event. Bomber, even more worryingly, dangled from his fist a head, on the end of a long hank of hair; it’s grey, blank expression not unlike its carrier after a night on the lash. And talking of flagellation Ms Whiplash and her maid, J (our Hares for the day) wore fetching, large pointy witch’s hats with long, orange wigs. I shall just say they appeared very at ease and I won’t make any of the expected old witch jokes. Slippery, on the other hand, had opted for a small, but noticeable witch’s hat with mauve fur circling a rounded point that Glittertits likened to a, ahem, proud male appendage. Had it not been for the shorts and legs we would not have recognised Motox, in a green-faced Frankenstein’s monster disguise. Drac, of course, lived up to his name, wearing that flowing black cloak, whitening this face and smooth head and adding the finishing touch of blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. Actually, it was surprising that he and his blood-brother Vlad arrived at all. When I followed them in my car, turning right off the main road they entirely ognored the next left into the car park and headed at speed straight on, to the fancy clubhouse; no doubt believing it heaving with fresh meat in the form of shapely virgins.

It’s quite interesting what curious looks you get when running hell-for-leather down a leafy lane in the company of a flowingly cloaked, white-faced Dracula lookalike. The older lady and gent displayed typical English reserve but eyebrows were definitely raised and they gave each other a look that popped invisible question marks above their heads. We went out the usual way with a certain speed since the Hares had told us that where we saw a flour ‘C’ would be a Chocolate Check. i.e choccies would be hidden there so it was well worth getting there early. Each Chocolate Check had been nicely decorated with gauzy spider’s webs and black plastic spiders. But you needed to look hard for the chocs since earlier walkers, grazing deer and swooping, Cadbury-fancying kitehawks had made off with a certain amount of the booty. Fannybag was particularly miffed that the ‘fast runners’ were scoffing all the chocolates. Perhaps a spot more interest in the training and a bit less interest in the snack bars and you might be able to keep up with the ‘fast runners’ m’dear.

Long, long sections of this Hash led down concrete thoroughfares through the barren wastes where several cars and, rather surprisingly, an ambulance tried to mow us down. I’m sure the Hares had good intentions but this was indeed the Road to Hell. Particularly for C5 who is suffering with suspected plantar fasciitis (I believe this is the conviction that ultra right-wing gardeners should take over the planet). The other problem we wrestled with was the lack of flour, which turned into a bit of a Curate’s egg. Much of the stuff had been washed away by the overnight rain, rabbits, passing itinerant wannabe roadsweepers etc. so we searched in vain on occasions for a trail – which kept the Pack together certainly – but led to mass confusion and banging of foreheads on fenceposts. But it did do us an enormous favour. Wheezing our way pitifully up a steep, serpentine (more Burmese python than corn snake) hill we finally reached the Regroup in the middle of a blasted heath to be informed by J that, regrettably (in her view) the ‘Fishook’ ¾ of the way up the mountainous track had been sluiced away by the rain. Those of us with any breath left at all croaked “Wun ‘il, wu huhun ‘il” in the style of Amazing Grace, then fell in the grass, broken husks. One ‘ill too many. The Long Trail (I guess we should have known) led round in a large circle back to the Regroup. But what a fine circle. The day was fine and clear and those not too hungover could view the metallic sparkle of the Thames as it rippled between the unshaven green chins of the overlooking hills. Down to earth it was a bit of a slog with Cerberus across a soggy, protracted field, pocked with hoof marks. Do you know, the darn woman was hardly breathing hard while I was exhibiting all the symptoms of advanced anonymous phone-call pervery. And she’d already been out with her dogs for over an hour already this morning! Still, it’s nice to be with a woman who can keep going for a long time.

We caught up finally with Bomber, Spot, BillyBullshit and Trainspotter, who was overjoyed at finding two large, eyeball chocolates at a ‘C’ Check and put them in the eye sockets of his fright mask. Surprisingly, the bulging, red-veined objects gave him a more normal look than usual. We clattered on across the concrete, eventually hitting a grass track (hooray!) and finding SlowSucker standing next to a two-way Check with a couple of dog walkers with whom he was discussing furniture. No, I don’t understand that either. Just to be contrary and because we knew where we were Bomber, Cerberus, Dave (who actually had no idea where he was) and I went left instead of right, stumbling and slipping over grassy tufts and lumpy pebbles down and up a narrow track before popping out on to the road opposite the pub. Billy also popped out just in front of us, having taken a massive shortcut which had confused the poor old fellow. We took him gently by the elbows and ushered him towards beer and a delightful, sunny garden. Lovely.

Thanks to the ladies for our trail but the day was altogether far too nice and sunny for a Halloween Hash! On On. Ghostwriter Hashgate.

Down, Down Downs

While RA Simple flew to Honkong using just one arm Glittertits presented the following :-



Style points


Her **th birthday

At last I have a rival


Achieved his 50 runs. Well done!

Excellent pint for a half-centurian


Leaving bondage equipment lying around

Didn’t quite bond with the pint. Iceman collected the spillage.


Not going on Radio Berkshire!

Smooth as silk


For pushing BlouseBlazer into a corn field during the Fun Run 8 years ago

Awarded to BlouseBlazer for hurt feelings. A fine, if quivering, effort.


Being canny and not running with the FRBs – so no Checking!

No checking with the pint either. A quality pint


RA abuse – stating he is older than TinOpener

A fine half, well earned

Ms Whiplash, J

The Hares

A fine display by our flagellant friend

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Traveller’s Friend, Crookham

Potty, Simple




Sandhurst Memorial car park
ON2 Wellington Arms
(Please do not park at the pub)


Hash Skittles Evening

Saturday 11th November at 19:30. At Civil Service Club, James Lane, Burghfield. Gridref: 676676. Cost - just £6 for all the skittles and food you can eat... To book a place see Motox.