Run Number:



Visit the website –
Website Email –


The Sun, Whitchurch Hill


Penny Pitstop, Shitshoveller


Motormouth Hashgate Donut Jamie Twanky Blowjob Vlad Drac Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Uplift Utopia Pissquick Glittertits Spot Hitchiker Fannybag Bogbrush Cerberus Billy Bullshit Shitfor Desperate BlouseBlazer C5 Slippery Ms Whiplash Salome Anorak TrainSpotter CAIAC HeyBabe Roy Iceman Foghorn Motox Itsyor OldFart Baldrick Cheating Simple Dunny Squirrel Potty Nutcracker Snowballs Ladybird Whinge TC Spex Dwight Dipstick PoisonIvy Bernie Sam Nigel Septic Dumper Little Stiffy SlackBladder Rebecca Vanessa AintGotOne Tapeworm Stripper Harry Gee Psychological Lonely Bootsie Dutch TT3 Zebedee Florence StinkingBishop Grommet HeadBoy ShutupWally Flash – not sure I can include him since he turned up on his bike after the Hash

We All Have Our Cross To Bear…

None more so than young Cerberus. Married to Billy, she not only has a cross to bear but also an albatross round her neck, a monkey on her back, two red setters to look after and Shitfor as a friend. Clearly not an ideal load when trying to Hash, or indeed, live your life. However, during the Down Downs, Billy was awarded his own cross to bear by our revered and plumptious RA, Simple, who gave him the scaled down, but still sturdy wooden structure to carry during next week’s trail because he wilfully neglected the BH3 umbrella (after four weeks of ownership – he kept forgetting to bring it to pass on) and subjected it to inhuman cruelty (the inhuman part being himself) by flinging it into the forest on the way round. You may wonder why Simple just happened to have a cross about him. It’s a complicated story but bear with it and I’ll get you there as quickly as I can. Shitshoveller, for reasons best known to himself, has now run 2000 Hashes. 210, I believe, as a Hare. Rather like our centurion Hashers a couple of weeks ago this indicates either a dedication and loyalty that should be upstandingly applauded, or an obsession edging towards the ragged fringes of insanity. Again, I shall let you decide for yourselves. In his eagerness to educate the RA of this fascinating fact a little while ago, Shitshoveller drew poor Simple into a dark corner by grasping his elbow, beckoning a crook’d finger and, glancing furtively from side to side, before whispering in a grating voice, “Come Simple. I shall tell you a secret.” Not since he’d read about Mad Eye Moody in Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkhaban had Simple’s heart beat so fast. “Much more of this,” he thought, “and I’ll be renamed Dumper Too.” Shitshoveller grasped the neck of his T-shirt, his breathing laboured and wheezing; a twitch beginning to pull the corner of his mouth. Not since Billy Bones had been handed The Black Spot in the Admiral Benbow by Blind Pew had Simple’s hea…I’m overdoing it a tad, aren’t I? Ok. So anyway ‘The Shoveller’ leaned towards Simple’s ear, the heat of his breath melting the wax, and half-grunted, half-whispered, “Another seven Hashes and I’ll have done as many as the number of years since…” He half-turned, checking for any who might overhear. Then turned back. “Since Jesus was born.” With a terrible look from his staring eyes he wiped his foam-flecked mouth on the sleeve of his brocaded greatcoat (hang on, that bloody pirate analogy has popped up again!) and staggered away to be swallowed by the crowd. How could Simple resist the opportunity. So it was that Shitshoveller was presented with a crown of thorns (well, bracken n’stuff) to wear and a carpentastically well-crafted cross when it was his turn for a Down Down. Which was later given to Billy for being a prat.

Which brings us rather neatly to this week’s description of the Hash. Almost, but not quite, spoiled for me by Sam who, when I pointed out Motormouth to her as my son across the milling throng completely failed the progeny recognition test by identifying, gulp, BlouseBlazer as the product of my loins. If that doesn’t warrant some kind of name for her I’ll be very surprised. If not marginally disappointed.

But, look, I haven’t even mentioned the trail yet. You really shouldn’t let me wander off like that. But then, plenty of people wandered off the trail. With Bars and back Checks a-plenty the FRBs and Pack generally were pretty confused. Very often the Pack met the FRBs running back towards them, usually up a rather steep, baked earth track in a forest. This was great for newbies like Bernie and Vanessa who were a little surprised by the sheer speed at which we hurtled through the forest. In fact, we were a little surprised too. When we finally fetched up at the Regroup everyone was soaked in sweat and steaming gently. On the way there we had enjoyed listening to the advice of AintGotOne to Stripper on the efficacy of dock leaves for treating nettle rash and enjoyed the sight of the BH3 Scribe tumbling to earth at Spot’s feet after failing to negotiate the outstretched root of a tittering hawthorn hedge. We delighted in listening to not one, but two, mobile phone conversations by Lonely and revelled in following Vlad and Mr Blobby through a lovely oats (apparently) and poppy field. Which was before the unfortunate Blobster knackered his calf muscle. We wish you all the best with that, Colin. Grommet and I laughed ourselves silly listening to Wally behind us wittering on about that well-known Hash RD2D. And what’s up with Iceman? Donut reported that he had appeared next to her, spotted a flour blob, then, like a nightingale in Berkeley Square, sang out gently “On On” rather than employing his usual epiglottis-wiggling, 400-decibel Highland yodel that can strip the hairs off an unsuspecting stoat at fifty metres. There is a small classroom, if not an entire school, of thought that Vlad and Drac got in the way of one of these some time ago.

Not only was it Shitshoveller’s 2000th Hash but it was also his birthday this week. Consequently, the generous fool had arranged with the pub to buy everyone’s first drink and to lay on so many sausages and chips that even Baldrick was sated and laying under a bush gently burping, with his belly protruding, before the never-ending stream of bow-legged flunkeys bearing enormous traysful had finished unloading their pig and potato cargo. Unfortunate for him, then, that the balmy night brought out almost 80 Hashers, including a good contingent from Oxford. But even if he ended the night with a limp credit card he and Penelope got a stiff round of applause and an unheard-of general response from BH3 to the question posited by our RA, “What did you think of the trail?” “BRILLIANT!” Chorused the Hash. It was. Well done Hares and thankyou very much.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Simple presented the following :-



Style points


Comparing his number of runs to the years since our Lord was born… minus 7 (see above)

Not bad at all for a bloke wearing a leaf hat and leaning on a cross. “Nail ‘im to it!” Cried the crowd.

PoisonIvy, Psychological


Bernie, Rebecca

Tonight’s virgins

Damn fine toking by the girls


100 runs awarded by C5

Well done Simple!


Falling. Once in the wood and once – well I guess you know about that by now…

Brilliant! Almost, but not quite, up for a pint


Two halves for two phone calls on the Hash

Answered the call on both occasions

Billy Bullshit

Tossing… away the Hash brolly

Got a bit cross with the pint


Paying sheep to lie upside down for Simple

A fine, Oxford Down

Penny Pitstop

Tonight’s Hares

Well done. And well deserved.

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Fox, Cane End RG4 9HE

Erm… tba




The Taste of England
Thatcham RG18 3AP

Potty, Simple

Summer Party

Possibly the best party ever organised. Can you afford to miss being part of it?
Saturday 11th August at Finchampstead Village Hall. Touch base with Motox (ooer) for more details.