The Christmas Flock

Donut LoudonTasteless Spex Hashgate BlowJob Shitfer Desperate J-Wax BillyBullshit Cerberus Posh Bomber Iceman Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Dutch Snowballs BlouseBlazer Dunny Simple ShutupWally Ms Whiplash Salome OldDog Slippery Mother Theresa Lemming Tinopener Lilo Lonely Bootsie Spot Hitchiker C5 C4 Motox Whinge TC Colin Sue Centaur Chopstix Shandyman J and dog Alfie Bridget Butterfly Dribbler FannyBag Bogbrush The Tremblers Florence Zebedee StinkingBishop Grommet Turdtreader Twanky Aqua Hamlet Fukawe Shirley Flash John

While Shepherds Watched…

Just once in a while, given a special event, the past and the present collide. The Angel of the Lord was all set for His big entrance with the shepherds. He’d burnished up His personal incandescence and brushed his teeth to sparkling whiteness but was having trouble with the Time-Space continuum. He’d got the star roving in from the East, given Mary the good news (ignoring Joseph’s somewhat skeptical, “Immaculate Conception my furry butt!”) and telepathically made sure Balthazar knew how to spell ‘myrrh’ correctly for his shopping list. But transporting out of Heaven and into the human world in the right timeframe was a tad tricky at the best of times. “Right.” He thought, finally. “Here we go.” Made a couple of passes, stretched the wings and… nothing. Or so He thought. “Holy Cobblers!” He announced tetchily. “There’s always something.” The Angel of the Lord looked down. And didn’t quite know where (or when) he was…

BH³ had gathered en masse at Swallowfield; a mass of jogg(l)ing bottoms, skinny legs and salivation. The Hash was dead eager to be off, run round the bloody trail and get back as quickly as possible for the Grand Christmas Feast and Booze Extravaganza. Everyone was screwing their eyes up because of the almost blinding brilliance in the cloudless sky. Except Simple, whose eyes and face looked like two lady pigs, side-by-side, walking away. It had been a long, alcoholic night. After a witty, humorous and ultimately tedious speech by the good G.M., BlouseBlazer, the Hares (who included NipponTuck – nice to see her) got the Hash on its ready-for-turkey-gobbling way led by what appeared to be a pink and white stick insect wearing a black parachute. It turned out to be Hashgate who had borrowed a running shirt from Trembler to keep out the cold – Trembler being, well, slightly larger than Hashgate. It was a fast and furious start directly into that intense light.

“Where are those blasted, begging Your pardon, shepherds?!” Said the Angel of the Lord, more than a mite grumpily. He was very confused. He was supposed to be on a hill in the dark, with a few Middle Eastern shepherds, giving out the Word and a bit of mighty dread. “Bit Rastafarian really.” He mused, pondering on the metaphysical similarities between “I and I”, and “Father and Son”. He suddenly realised that it was day, and a bright one, rather than night and instead of shepherds he could see a bunch of oddly-garbed people running about squinting. The one in front suddenly shouted, “On On!” “How Curious.” Thought the Angel. “Most people to whom I (maybe that should be “we”, he thought briefly) appear are verily filled with extraordinary fear.” He decided to investigate and wafted closer. Being somewhat telepathic the Angel knew the names of all the people and he observed the one called Colin shading his eyes and calling back to a Mr Blobby, “I can’t see any f…” He blinked a few times. “Flour.” “Flour!” Contemplated the Angel. “This bunch can’t be shepherds. They don’t seem stable let alone are looking for one.” The people were running forwards and backwards in a random manner while panting and shouting. They didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. “Perhaps I’ve popped into Purgatory. Mind you, I didn’t see a sign saying ‘Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here’. Though a fair number below are beginning to exhibit all the signs.” The group was spreading out as the FRBs (“Strange title.” Thought the Angel. “Faintly Red Balloons? Faith Really Bolsters? Then He got the real meaning telepathically. “Ah. Humans. Such frailties. Perhaps I should give them something to think about.” He drifted ahead of the lead runner.

Hashgate reached the Check by the little wooden graveyard gate ahead of Billy. A very bright glow shone behind the small herring-bone brick building, visible through a green avenue of sweeping yews and golden beams of light. He entered the gate and walked through the hushed ground, well-tended graves to left and right with the land falling slightly in front, towards the light. It was very peaceful, and quite beautiful. “How nice, “ thought Hashgate as he trotted back to the gate, “that all these people have not been forgotten.” He even pointed Zebedee into the little area, extolling its virtues and not giving a thought for the fact that this would ‘hold the bugger up for a bit’ while he, Hashgate, ran off at speed. The Angel rolled His eyes at humanity and tried one more time to affect this heathen bunch. Skipping Time forward a touch (bits of His power were returning) he got a girl named Sue running away from Him up a gently sloping green field followed by a number of other Hashers (as He found they were called). Now Sue has long, red hair and the light behind her dazzled on her tumbling locks of Titian copper and Celtic gold. The Angel seared the tips with amber and fire. “Hmm.” He thought. “Think I’m getting the hang of the pre-Raphaelite effect.” He brought the whole to a flaming crescendo and read the nearest mind. Unfortunately, it was Billy’s. “Coo. She’s a right ginger bonce.” Floated the single thought through the cerebral wilderness. The Angel led as many as possible through the freezing, thigh-deep, fast running ford, though he noted that the so-called leader, the GM BlouseBlazer, managed to avoid it. Unlike, Zebedee, Hashgate, Colin, Cerberus, Spot, Shandyman, Bomber etc. “Oops!” Thought the Angel. “It’s all going a bit dark. Was that a sheep?”

“Ship. Ship. Ship.” Droned Amchar methodically. He’d been counting sheep since he was a boy and was bored. As were his two colleagues, Shadrem and Ernie. It was a cold and starry night and roughly-woven woollen clothing didn’t keep out the frost too well. “Ship. Ship… wassat!?” Exclaimed Amchar in alarm. The entire flock and surrounding hill were suddenly bathed in the purest luminescence. The shepherds knelt down, their troubled minds seized by mighty dread. “And about Time.” Thought the Angel as He touched down before them. “Fear not, good shepherds.” He intoned. Then in a softer manner. “Been a funny old night.” Said the Angel of the Lord. “You’re never going to believe this …”

The Christmas Feast

Not only the tables but Motox’ belly was groaning with the weight of turkey and delicious, nutty little sprouts after this. From Bucks Fizz on the way in, to delicious squash-based soup, to the main course, to perfect little Christmas puddings, a variety of cheeses, free beer, many and various J2O drinks and tables decorated with candles, crackers and holly. The BH³ organisers and helpers had pulled out all the stops. Particular thanks must go to our HashMash and day’s chef, Loud’n’Tasteless, who may have lived up to the first part of his name but certainly not the second. I very much doubt if any other Hash had such a good Christmas event. Thankyou so much to all of you. If only I had more space…

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone. On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Simple presented the following :-

Awarded a bottle of wine for managing to avoid so many Hashes this year

Up and Coming