Wedding Guests and Barn Dancers

Simple Honeymonster HashgateFoghorn Dutch LoudonTasteless BlowJob Vlad Drac Glittertits PussQuick Gusset Tinopener Lilo and dog Emma Fannybag Bogbrush and dog Pebbles Colin Motox Utopia iceman Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Uplift Spot Hitchiker BlouseBlazer Potty Nutcracker Slippery Salome Ms. Whiplash Desperate Shitfor Little Stiffy SlackBladder Cerberus BillyBullshit Jeremy Twanky lemming Mother Theresa The Abominable Barfman Show ’em and baby Lena Chopstix Shandyman Butterfly Dribbler Effin Quack Shitshoveller Penny Pitstop Baldrick Donut Hilary Caboose Florence Zebedee ShutupWally and dog Bonnie Cheating Bootsie Lonely NonStick Cloggs

Bar N – the Coolest Place in Town

How cool can you get? Apart from the chill wind that sharpened its blade on the bare arms and legs of those Hashers foolish enough to wear nothing but shorts and T-shirts (Caboose) we had bitter beer, a cold buffet and a fresh new baby (Lena – courtesy of Show ‘em and The Abominable Barfman). Add to that the Hash wedding of Nutcracker and Potty and, dahlings, there was simply nowhere else to go. Mind you, some of us were lucky to get there at all. I met Blowjob on the road before the Hash, driving in the opposite(and correct!) direction to me while talking to Twanky on the phone – he had no idea where he was at all.

Potty and Nutcracker had done the official version of the marriage vows in secret recently, thinking that no-one would get wind of the dirty deed. Come on, guys, The BH³ grapevine spreads faster than bindweed. And so it was that before we On Outed Nutcracker was fitted with a long string of empty plastic bottles round her waist and a diving hat (don’t go there!) while Potty was hurriedly presented by Zebedee a (he was late again and still blowing the damn thing up) blow-up doll. I am very happy to report that it looked nothing like BlowJob, who had performed a frighteningly lifelike impression of one of these last week – hers was probably the deluxe model, with hair and, um, stuff. I am slightly less than happy to report that the doll had originated from C5 who was mysteriously absent this week. A mite embarrassed and not wishing to give explanations perhaps?

As we On Outed from the farm Old Dog gave a fine impression of one of her Lake District relatives by snapping at the heels of the slower sheep and pointing us all in the right direction. We raced off as if the Hound of Hell was upon us. Actually, it was. Cerberus was barking orders right and left. “Not up there!” “Go that way!” “Come on then!” Not surprising really that Billy is like he is, I suppose. The speed of our start didn’t really let up all the way round and it was only the occasional cock-up at a Check that enabled Spot, Zebedee, Colin etc to see anyone else at all. One moment we are hurtling across a field towards a False with Baldrick in tow. Next we are skittering along the top of an artificial river bank with Caboose covered in coconut matting (er, the river bank – not Caboose). Then we are wandering aimlessly through a forlorn field littered with the dead sticks of old corn cob plants with Shitfor, Desperate and Fannybag. We never did find any flour in there but it was a useful rest and allowed the Pack to catch up. Now I was going to take the mickey out of Fannybag for waving at, and receiving in return a friendly wave from, a train driver as his train sped beneath the little railway bridge we were standing upon with a metallic and bridge-shuddering swoosh. The more I thought about it the more it seemed to me that we are all far too grown-up these days (apart from most Hashers) and that an innocent childlike action warrants a nod and a smile rather than a cynical put-down. Nice one, girl; you carry on.

The Incredible Hulk. Until he gets angry, the good Dr. Banner is the mildest of souls, a feeder of feathered friends and a helper of old ladies across the road. Until he gets angry. Dr. Jeykll, healer of the sick and benefactor to the poor. Until he turns into the raging monster, Mr Hyde. Dr. Jimmy and Mr. Jim (Who fans know this). One an innocent youth, the other, an out-of-control pillhead spoiling for a fight. So it was rather a surprise for Simple and me to see the other side of… Donut! I know. We couldn’t believe it either. It was like that moment in Lord of the Rings where the Bilbo spies The Ring in Frodo’s hand and his face turns from benign dotage to shocking malignance in an instant. One minute Donut was her usual friendly, attractive, warm self. The next the beast within was unleashed. Teeth gnashed, eyes reddened, veins stood out on the forehead. The ‘F’-word was rasped out with such vehemence that even Simple blanched. And the cause of all this violence? Lemming. Who else? Donut, Simple and I had approached the muddy stream edge without realising the little fellow was standing by it. One mighty splash later, my black-shorted lower regions resembled a seal hurriedly exiting the plunge pool at Aquaworld and Donut had transformed into the snorting-nostrilled Beast. As Simple put it later, at the Down Downs, “The teddy went right out of the pram.” She tornadoed into the stream, savaged the frightened Lemming and tore out again, claws rattling on the stones, tearing up the grass. Harypymungous or what!? Frankly, it served Lemming right. How dare he splash poor Donut. And it’s not the first time either. Fortunately, we were to see him get his own back when Shitfor slapped a handful of shiggy on his bonce and Baldrick sneakily attacked from the rear. But best of all was when he attempted another mighty footsweeping splash… and swept his other foot off the stream bed; so landing on his bum in the burn. A wonderful moment. One to be cherished in years to come. A memory to be wrapped carefully, placed in the sideboard and brought out on special occasions for everyone to enjoy.

Our very special occasion today was the Hash wedding of Nutcracker to Potty. The bride, dressed in a fetching net curtain headdress was attended by two old tarts Hitchiker and Gusset, both of whom were dressed to the nines, which contrasted nicely with the cathedral-like grain barn within which the congregation waited breathlessly. Simple, in full cardinal dress, pontificated over the couple as Nutcracker and Potty, seated on an old lavatory and a potty respectively took their Hash vows amid a deluge of rice, bits of bread and the odd crisp or two. An iron and a toaster (with toast ready prepared) was given to the happy couple and a fine cake, lovingly crafted by Hash Mash LoudonTasteless appeared, for them to cut. Talking of LoudonTastless, we have him to thank for a bow-legged victuals table, creaking under the weight of a whole roast wildebeest posed in rampant splendour and surrounded by sautéed swans, bird of paradise soufflé, butterflies in aspic, lark’s tongues, goulash of gnu, tortoise surprise (well, the tortoise was), rack of Archbishop of Canterbury, crocodile Wellington followed by sundry puddings such as tarte terrapin, creme mulée and cockatoo custard – all washed down with Motox’ excellent beer. Thanks to all who made the event enjoyable and successful.

Damn, we had a fine time. Thankyou Old Dog, Dumper and Florence for organising the blasted thing.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Simple presented the following :-

Damn fine ½ from Donut! She’s been practising.

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