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Yattendon Village Hall


Cerberus, Bogbrush,
Baldrick, ShitShoveller, OldDog

Hash Various

There were so many Hashers on the day that to list them all would mean there would be no space to write anything. I’ve listed all the ones I could, so apologies to any who have been missed out. We were very pleased to welcome people from R2D2, Milton Keynes, Deepcut, N.Hants, N. Wilts, Sodoff, Surrey, Oxford, Didcot.
Hashgate Cheating C5 Sue5 Honeymonster Spex LoudonTasteless HarryPotter OldDog Lilo and dog Emma TinOpener Snowballs BlouseBlazer Glittertits PissQuick DunnyStumbler Simple Donut Dutch J-Wax Busted and dog Jenna PP and dog Barney Tony SlowSucker Centaur Flash CleverTrevor LowProfile Terminator and dog Molly FirstOn Cerberus BillyBullshit Fannybag Little Stiffy Desperate SlackBladder Motox Spot Hitchiker Aqua Uplift Chopstix Shirley John Fruit’nNut Dave Caboose Florence GBH CircuitBreaker FlyingDoctor Julia UsedRubber Foghorn Iceman Goose Shandyman Mrs Blobby Mr Blobby Blowjob(BH3) Blowjob(Oxford) Ladybird Buttercup StraddleVarious BouncingCzech Legover and dog Megan Colin Sue Mother Theresa Lemming ScarletPimpernel Whinge TC Bomber Posh Anorak Trainspotter Grommet StinkingBishop Steamer Jackie


Where to start? A question I’m asking myself right now since so much went on at this multi-Hash extravaganza. Also the question most of us asked when faced with the opportunity to partake of the Short, Medium or Leg Ballbreaker trails devised by our cunning Hares. The massed hordes had been initially corralled into the tennis court behind the Village Hall so that our revered GM BlouseBlazer, organisers Cheating and C5, Hare Baldrick etc could alternately welcome us and attempt to confuse with stories of pink flour, white flour, the letter ‘T’(for Terminus?) indicating a False. What with the chill wind whipping the words away, Cheating’s somewhat indistinct oratorial style and PP’s dog Barney determined to bark his way into the Guinness World Records we lost a fair bit of the gist. Added to which I was somewhat put off by the close proximity of Colin. The last time I saw him he sidled up to me in a pub while eating his packet of bar snacks and asked with a raise of his eyebrow, “Fancy a bit of beef jerky, Hashgate?” Not an offer you expect to receive in a well-filled pub, unless it’s called The Gaylord Arms in Mincing Lane. Today, luckily, I was holding the Hash umbrella which Dutch had so kindly passed on to me last week and was ready to defend myself. After the initial fun of squeezing hundreds of people out of the slim tennis court gate at virtually the same time we Medium Trailers gathered round Glittertits like flies on dog poo. Not that he or the rest of us knew what to do or where to go. He was just standing out of the wind at the top of short flight of steps that led nowhere. This probably explains Hare Baldrick’s exasperated haranguing of us as he struggled to get across that our flour was pink. “Pink laddie! Pink!” He screeched. “Is that spelt with an ‘F’ or a ‘T’?” Came the reply. We began to understand what the word apoplexy really meant. Fascinating to see a Scotsman in the throes of dynamic fissiparous philological frenzy. We scurried off while Simple quickly scuffed out the pink ‘M’ (for Medium) that Bogbrush had placed helpfully nearby. And then it all went a tad wrong. Not two hundred yards from the start and along a gently sloping, if muddy and slippery, grass track there was a loud crack from behind us and down went an unfortunate Hasher with a broken fetlock. Luckily, no-one had thought to bring the humane killer so they called up 999 instead which resulted in the appearance later of a paramedic 4x4, an ambulance and a police helicopter. Now that’s what I call care in the community! After the medics had made our boy comfortable the police whisked him away in the helicopter following a quick digital fingerprinting (“purely routine, sir”), double iris scan (“Just so we can keep an eye on you, sir. Ho Ho.”) and several probing questions about personal finances. Oops! A hint of political satire creeping in there. I am afraid I did not find out the unfortunate faller’s name but I am sure we all wish him all the best for a speedy recovery.

Believe it or not there was just a smidgeon of water and shiggy on this trail which made keeping one’s footing and keeping unmuddied (particularly with Lemming and Foghorn about) a bit of a non-starter. As PP found out while being pulled across a very sticky bottomed stream by the eager (and I have to say, manic) Barney on his lead. One minute she’s squelching along with the rest of us. The next she has half gone over with one shoeless foot in the air and Barney speeding off towards the horizon like Nelson Mandela the day someone left the door open. Not to be outdone, FlyingDoctor, who was next to PP, fell backwards with a ‘splat!’ covering everyone in a radius of 200 yards with either a fine spray or a thick gobbet of shiggy. I must confess that to the great amusement of the sniggering masses I managed to nosedive earthwards on a couple of occasions, the last particularly amusing for Simple who observed the furled umbrella and offered the opinion that I had failed to deploy my parachute. The git. Not too good for the recording machine so Sue (though fairly extensively splattered herself) kindly offered me a moisture-free crevice wherein I could secrete it. Unfortunately, the BH3 brolly proved no use at all in shiggy situations. As we approached a fairly deep, water and mud-laden gully with both Lemming and Foghorn standing in it a Surrey Hasher and I attempted to use the thing as a shield. What a waste of time! We both ended up soaked and the brolly now has a bent sprocket. Or was that my Surrey friend? And what about Donut? Not seen on the Hash for ages. Returns looking fresh and clean. I had just remarked to her how much of the latter she looked when Lemming, who had crept behind us, let go with an almighty sidekick in the mother of all mud puddles. It looked like a giant mud skipper had sneezed all over her back. Nice pattern actually; good for the skin and all that. But probably not what she needed right then.

But winner of the most surreal moment on the medium trail was when a bloke wearing a smart, lady’s houndstooth double-breasted jacket and I led the way up a steepish track by a hedge, right into the blinding sun. Halfway up, something large and furry just about caught our eyes. We stooped. We edged upwards. We turned to see… the biggest, furriest Vietnamese pot-bellied pig just standing there, chewing lugubriously on a stick. “That’s a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig”. Said BillyBullshit as he came up to us, closely followed by an unknown Hasher who replied with, “He’s walked a bloody long way then.”

Food & Booze

A cascading cornucopia of food fit to grace the groaning tables of the ancient Gods awaited us when we returned to the Village Hall. (Maybe a spot of hyperbole creeping in there) And if Bacchus had been among the immortal throng his ruddy-nosed face would surely have widened to a huge grin at the sight of massed ranks of barrels, full to bursting with West Berkshire Brewery beer. Motox clucked and busied himself around them, a concerned mother hen among the egg-shaped containers. For the second week running I must mention Aqua, who seemed determined not only to get herself completely trolleyed but everyone else too. Mainly by pressing bottles of port against the lips of anyone near her and encouraging them to glug away. Which LoudonTasteless seemed to do without too much trouble. Then the ice fight broke out. Quite why various people such as (you guessed it) Aqua, Spex, Simple and friends felt the need to stuff handfuls of ice cubes down each other’s trousers, well, your guess is as good as mine. Suffice to say that when Spex loped over to me with a hopeful air, a lopsided grin and a handful of melting ice I declined her kind offer reasonably firmly.

There were many people who helped to make the event a rocketing success, not just the organisers and Hares, but the food-preparers, washers-up, clearers-away, ticket handlers etc etc. On behalf of all the Hashers present, thankyou for a superb event, great beer, excellent company and top-quality Christmas duff.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

Never has so much been awarded to so many by so many others. RAs were Simple, Fruitn’Nut, Tosser to name just a few. There was even a break in the middle as people rioted to be at the front of the Christmas pudding queue. Then it all started again. I lost the will to record, knowing that if I put that lot down in this Gobsheet as well as all the names that’s all there would be! Plenty of people got a Down Down and Lemming managed to get two somehow.

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






Swallowfield Village Hall RG7 1QX
* Christmas Lunch *





(Park in rec. at gridref please)
The Rising Sun, Stockcross
RG20 8LG