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The Cross Keys


Anorak, Trainspotter

Key People

Baldrick Honeymonster Hashgate Blowjob(BH3) Blowjob(OH3) LaCrease LoudonTasteless Spex Foghorn lemming Mother Theresa Dumper Septic C5 BlouseBlazer HeyBabe CIAC Bomber Posh Simple Hithiker Nutcracker Potty Flash John Twanky PP NappyRash Diver and Barney the mad dog SlackBladder LittleStiffy Motox Zebedee Florence Ms Whiplash Salome Roy ScarletPimpernel Kenicious Cheating

Almost A Proper Hash!

We get there early. Baldrick, Honeymonster and I watch with interest as LoudonTasteless and Spex drive towards the car park entrance in their mighty 4-wheel drive (“It may have a carbon footprint the size of a Yeti but it’s very practical.”) Just as we raise our palms in greeting they drive past. Hmm. Interesting. Three minutes later, from the opposite direction, they drive towards the car park entrance. We hold our breaths, palms slowly rising again. They sweep past majestically while we knit eyebrows and try to work it out. I found out later that they were looking for the site of Habitat, a store which closed down approximately ten years ago. Strange what people do isn’t it. However, not half as strange as Zebedee who not only drove right into the Circle as we gathered round for the On Out but then stalled the car right in front of Simple, our RA. Our Simple may be known for his forgiving nature and generosity of spirit but it was impossible to turn a blind eye to this. Zebedee had truly earned his pint at the Down Downs later.

At least this week the ‘gentlemen’ were not dressed in ladies clothing (at least, that we could see!). One Red Dress Run per year is about all we normals can manage. Though NappyRash said he had toyed with bringing his dress, which he said had, “Come up lovely” in the wash. C5, too, imparted wistfully to me that, since he had been unable to make last week he had seriously considered wearing his dress this week. Sometimes one has to wonder what price we have really paid for sexual freedom..

The On Out was characterised by one of Cheating’s glorious gaffes. As you know, he always insists he knows where the trail is going, despite his 90% failure rate. So when he stopped to tie up a shoelace by the pub wall and issued the contemptuous observation, “Not that way you tossers. There’s flour on the main road!” I figured I’d hang about with Blowjob (ours that is; theirs is not nearly so attractive) to watch the outcome. It wasn’t long before the sheep who had been cowed under the verbal assault slunk back. Cheating assimilated himself quietly amongst them and trotted off in the right direction. Difficult to do you’d think, with one foot in your mouth.

Unusually, today’s trail was to be a like a real Hash – at least for the first half. Our Hares kindly led us to and round Wallingford castle. Most of us had never realised it existed. I suppose if we had ever thought about it: ancient bridge, important river crossing, medieval security requirements etc we would have realised the likelihood of a castle somewhere about was quite high. So possibly the pub name, ‘The Cross Keys’ has something to do with its proximity. Dunno. Only know that a ‘Bunkfest’ is held there pretty regularly. Anyway, the castle “hath a pleasant seat” and the “air nimbly and sweetly” recommended “itself unto our gentle senses.” We bounced enjoyably over and round its wall and well-kept gardens, little realising that later NappyRash, C5 and I would be sploshing our way through what was left of its narrow moat. At least this largely kept the Pack together. Apart from Foghorn and Ms Whiplash who had floored the pedal and were even now panting and sweating on Wallingford Bridge. Hang on, that’s brought up a somewhat nauseating image. Probably even more nauseating for poor Ms Whiplash. Brr. Where were we? Oh yes, Ms Whiplash was thrashing her way across the bridge, rubber and leather squeaking and farting, silvered buckles jingling, chains and things a’swinging… Oh dear. Lost it again. Pure fantasy of course. It’s been a long day. Let’s just say that Zebedee and I passed this dear lady, nipped down and under the bridge, along the river bank, then stopped since we found we were about a mile ahead. Simple finally thundered up. It was like sitting in a mini at the traffic lights as a Turkish 20-tonner slowly grinds to an air-brake whistling halt and a head leans out of the cab and peers down at you from a long way up. C5 hopscotched his way towards us while Zeb and I admired his running technique. This has become slightly less than smooth since he began growing his spur. Damn nuisance for running but I understand it’s done wonders in the bedroom since he and C4 realised the opportunities for ‘Rodeo Nights’. Although it took a while for the little woman to get used to the bridle and bit she now relishes the opportunity to play ‘Buckin’ Broncos’ with all the rootin’ and tootin’ that this involves. However, when she suggested they might reverse roles so she could have a spot of bull riding C5 was a tad less enthusiastic about having his cobblers tightly lashed in order that it might improve his performance. What a spoilsport.

It was also C5 who complained bitterly to me after he, Zebedee and I crossed a sticky, leg-sapping field path only to find an almost washed-out ‘F’. He decided to return whence he had come while I decided to take a less sticky route that came back out on the road well ahead of where he would hit the trail. “I blame you, Hashgate.” He whined. “For not telling me to cut across the field instead of going back the way I came!” I could feel the vultures of litigation wheeling on high just out of sight. Talk about embracing the, ‘not my fault’, ‘someone else is responsible’ society of today. At least when Posh short-cutted across that field of youthful sprouts she admitted full responsibility for each tender shoot crushed beneath her Prada running shoes. “It doesn’t really matter.” She informed me loftily. “They’re somewhat vulgar aren’t they?” It just made me realise how lucky we were that she tolerated us equally vulgar peasants. Otherwise, we would no doubt be crushed peremptorily ‘neath her aristocratic heel and woe betide anyone who bled on the brocade.

We reached the Regroup and stopped for a bit of a rest while Spex imparted to me the stunning information that her husband LoudonTasteless had, at one time, toured Buffalo Bill. Quite incredible what people own up to isn’t it. But this wasn’t the only reason I was breathless in the next minute or so. The Long trail led way, way up an ever-rising track where only Bomber skipped lightly as a spring lamb to the top while the rest of us choked and gasped our way up. It turned out that this was a fair old loop back via The Pennine Way, or Offa’s Dyke or whatever it’s called. NappyRash and CIAC led the way along its twisting, narrow trail until we popped out near Trainspotter who pointed the way back across that blasted sticky field, offering us ‘free endurance training and mud wrestling for the ladies’. The stuff gripped on to your shoes like, as my old Mum used to say, ‘sh*t to a blanket’. Running in treacle would have been preferable. Even Zeb was visibly slowing down. Luckily, we weren’t far from the bridge and spotted Potty, SlackBladder and Little Stiffy staggering towards it. Quite how NappyRash, C5 and I hit the On Inn from the wrong direction I don’t know. And the next minute we were in the moat. Well we needed some water to clean off the mud didn’t we? A short jog through the park and we stood just above the car park by the war memorial. Which is where C5 asked, “Where’s the pub then?”

Not bad at all, Hares. We’d expected a marathon. And the pub was superb. On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Simple presented the following :-



Style points


Chundering last week

½ went down and ½ wet down Simple!


Today’s virgin

Downed a disgusting ½ really quite well


Not knowing it was his birthday

Finally got there


Stalling the car (see above)

A squatting Down, well taken

Nutcracker, Hitchiker

Going shopping on the trail!

A red and white wine beautifully Downed


Forgetting The Umbrella

Soaked the crowd with his ½ of water

Anorak, TrainSpotter

The Hares

She hasn’t lost it has she?

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Queens Arms, Goring
*N.Y. Dog’s Bollocks Joint Hash*

Dog’s Bollocks




The Fox & Goose, Greywell
RG29 1BY
(Bring a torch if you want to see the bats…)

Aqua, ShutupWally,