Puzzled

Motormouth Hashgate Bomber Posh Baldrick CabinBuoy Pat Donut Swallow Dunny C5 Sue4 Vlad Drac twanky BlowJob Mrs Blobby Fukawe Loudon Tasteless Spex Harry Gee Centaur Dwight Julia Toby Scoot Flash Shirley John Septic Grommet StinkingBishop TT2 Florence Zebedee PP NappyRash and dog Barney Little Stiffy SlackBladder Iceman Cerberus BillyBullshit BlouseBlazer PissQuick Utopia Handful Ross Quack Fannybag Bogbrush Shitshoveller Penny Pitstop Caboose JustMoist Madame Cyn Ms Whiplash Compass Rebecca Dutch Motox Cheating Itsyor Fiddler PoisonedChalice ShutupWally

Enigma Variations

I must thank ‘The Doppelganger’ for writing last week’s Gobsheet about Shutupwally’s disaster trail. Though obviously in a great hurry the various facts were all recorded – including Motormouth and my names in the attendance list. Curious, since we were yo-ho-hoing with several drunken trawlermen in a low dive a couple of hundred miles West of the Hash at the time. Talking of Motormouth, and Twanky (who actually cycled to and from this event), I doff an imaginary cap in their direction for turning up tonight to exercise both their physical and mental faculties despite a weekend of louchness and debauchery at Reading Rock Festival. An annual beano designed to attract the sartorially challenged and those striving for insanity via a combination of lager, vegetarian Ecstasy (yep, it was for sale!), sleep deprivation, loud noises and flashing lights. I believe three of those are banned under the Geneva Convention. The lads enjoyed their shared experiences, talked knowingly about nine inch nails, that chillies set, the silent disco and a fire in the arcade. Well beyond our understanding, so we let them get on with it. Even though Motormouth could hardly speak after all the singing and shouting. If only Wally had been there too.

So this was a perfect Hash for those, like the above, might have a little less energy than usual since much of the trail was spent standing around scratching one’s head trying to figure out the answer to the thirty cryptic questions posed by our Hares. The first five weren’t so bad, since they were in the order they were to be found. But the rest weren’t. Oh dear. Some questions were fearfully arcane. For instance: * “Discarded crustacean covering almost, by a small stream?” was worthy of The Times crossword– if set by a compiler after a “let’s see who can snort two shovelfulls of coke in one sniff“ competition. The best question was a Mr Blobby special: “One of our hashers has a sporting insect named after him. Well almost. He’s lost his ‘r’. What is it?” The answer was on a wildlife information board on Mortimer Fairground, where we all heaved and strained to catch a glimpse of the descriptions of the variety of wildlife allegedly bounding in vast swarms and herds across the deserted grassland. The only wildlife was those Hashers at the back of the seething mass who couldn’t see the board because people like Compass and C5 were clinging grimly to the front of the board, attempting to read the information, while hands clawed and plucked desperately at them. The answer was all too simple even though it took most of us about ten minutes to figure it out. ‘Bog bush cricket’ (Metrioptera brachyptera) was the answer which Mr blobby had inadvertantly read as bog brush cricket when he first read it. An interesting use of a fairly sustainable resource though I could see those legs getting caught under the rim.

Generally speaking, everyone was quite helpful to each other. Especially, where the answer was difficult to see or in an inaccessible position. However, Quack proved to be, as C5 put it, highly un-cooperative when we called over to him to shout to us the location of the nearest public phone box. We had to send the exhausted Motormouth over the couple of hundred yards or so (and back to us). Has the man no feeling for the poor lad?

After an hour or so of serious concentration we were ready for a beer. And, thank the Lord, one was provided at the Utopian Regroup/Beer Stop in the woods. Which was where we met Caboose and JustMoist. Now I had thought that these two were at least reasonably sensible but it seems the two silly geese had been running the trail in reverse to this point. Just goes to show there’s no telling with some people is there? Let’s just call it backwoods (say it quickly) mentality.

Another interesting insight into mental processes was given by BlouseBlazer who informed Donut and myself (as we sallied forth from the Regroup) that there were many Romanian pickpockets abroad in the forest. It was a moment like when you realise the nutter is about to sit next to you on the train. One’s brow furrows in deep concern and the ‘fight or flight’ reaction kicks in. We attempted the latter but the blighter followed us. Then dobbed me in to RA Motox for kicking out a Check the wrong way despite a clear call of ‘On On’ from that direction. Obviously, with the AGM coming up he’s either looking to play the insanity card in order to relinquish the GM position. Or ensure its retention with a series of cunning Machiavellian strikes against all serving Committee members. Personally, I’d plump for the former with the qualification that it’s unintentional.

We finally got back to the hut and fell on the feast prepared by Septic, Dumper and assistants like a biblical locust plague (see bog brush crickets, above). Even Barney, PP’s lovely old dog, was slowly straining his way round the picnickers to lick every discarded plate in sight, dragging round with him the chair to which his lead was attached. Speaking of insects; no sooner had we settled to eat than so did they – on us, in fact. The mosquitos were in full blood-sucking frenzy, landing on every inch of exposed skin and tucking in with relish (or a dab of tomato sauce). It was quite amusing to watch everyone smilingly forking up their cold meat one moment, then suddenly twitching, slapping themselves and swearing all in one go, the next. After a while, we all moved inside for the marking, presentation and Down Downs. Despite C5’s protestations that the entire marking system was ‘a travesty’ (a farce, a sham, a farrago of twisted facts and lies etc) – he didn’t win – and the eventual winners turned out to be Motormouth, Donut and Hashgate who were presented with three bottles of excellent wine. Quite how we managed that I don’t know but then I didn’t know what was going on during most of the Quiz Hash either.

Thanks to all our Hares for all their hard work. We had great fun and everyone except C5 is looking forward to the next one.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

Standin RA Motox presented the following :-

Very smooth indeed

Up and Coming

* shelbrook