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Uncle Tom’s Cabin
Cookham Dean


Cerberus, Billy Bullshit
and dogs Molly and Libby

Hot and Cold Hashers

Twanky Desperate Shitfor Blowjob Donut Hashgate Bogbrush Fannybag Mother Theresa Lemming Spex LoudonTasteless John Bumwiper and Gnarler the dog Quack Dunny Karen Mhairi Shutupwally Iceman Bomber Posh Glittertits Pissquick Su (not SixInches. Got it right this week!) Tom Nappyrash PP and dog Barney Septic Dumper Honeymonster Whinge TC Vlad Drac Swallow Potty Nutcracker Snowballs Handful Dysentry AintGotOne Motox Spot Slowsucker Hitchiker Nonstick Cloggs Baldrick JWax Vertigo Florence Zebedee The Abominable Barfman Foghorn


AintGotOne suddenly emerged, blinking, into the BH3 garden like a fairly large mole. He’s now decided to disappear again. He is buggering off to Saudi for a few months to soak up the sun and avoid the bacon sandwiches. Let’s wish him well and look forward to his return. I too shall be quitting these shores tomorrow but will return in a week and a half’s time – all right, all right; there’s no need to groan quite so loudly. In the meantime, I am sure you will all be very happy to thank Shutupwally for kindly stepping into the breach and writing the Gobsheet next week… Good luck.

Today was brilliant, in every sense of the word. A keen frost had crusted the grass and stiffened the tussocks (there you go – said it was a useful word – see last week’s Gobsheet) on the green where we parked. The sun cut through the azure sky and into one’s eyeballs like a myopic circus knife-thrower. Parking attendant Desperate had kindly pointed us on to the green, by the pub. How kind, we thought. Only to discover that it was not the Hash pub. Oh no, that was a mile down the road. Still, the walk warmed us up even though the air wrapped around us like an icy blanket. The pub turned out to be small, idiosyncratic and very friendly. Rather like Billy, who appeared at the Gather Round looking very pleased with himself. We only hoped that Cerberus had reined in his more exotic trail-laying impulses and that he had managed to stop himself from kicking out his own Checks even as he laid them. Today’s picture shows just what a fine old pub UTC is and it looked very much like this in the sunshine.

In fact, Billy didn’t need to kick out his Checks. The Trail had been laid so cunningly that the FRBs were just generally confused and the Pack kept together extremely well. No sooner that we had gone the wrong way up one crunchy stretch of frozen earth than we were beasting up another. I haven’t quite figured out yet whether this was due to Cerberus’ devious intelligence, Billy’s complete lack of intelligence, or a combination of the two. Somehow they managed to lead us through fields, woodland paths, farm tracks, patches of shiggy, down steep hills and back up others. A veritable cornucopia of physical and viewing experiences. And somehow, they kept us mostly together. Even to the extent that Slowsucker, and Bomber and Tom running at pace through the still forest suddenly found themselves face to face with JWax and Honeymonster, who had been ambling amiably in the pleasant air. A tad off-putting, that. There you are, legs going like pistons, heart thrashing like the boilers on The Titanic (before, obviously), thinking you are going to win and you suddenly realise that all the effort has got you to… the back. S’what Hashing is all about though. Rather like Billy’s amusing ‘Long Trail’ from the first Regroup. We had already been fearfully amused that the ‘RG’ sign was hidden under a car that had parked on it. Then we hurtled off on the ‘Long Trail’… to find ourselves curling back to the track from whence we had come where Billy squatted, grinning by the side of it like an incubus waiting for a sleeping maiden. Mind you, should one appear I think she’d be perfectly safe. Say the word ‘crumpet’ to Billy and he immediately salivates – visualising a hot, savoury object dripping with melted butter. Come to think of it, it’s cheaper, they don’t squeak when you sink your teeth into them and you can handle two at a time – with Marmite on.

For me, the oddest moment on the Hash was just on the left-hand path of a two-way Check. It was quite bushy and I suddenly happened upon a couple of fine chickens a-roostin’ and a feather-fluffin’ on a branch in the hedge behind a wire fence. They were plumptious, soft-looking. Beautifully groomed and regarding me out of one eye each (binocular vision being a bit tricky for an animal with a fairly flat head). “Bwwwrrrrkk.” Said one. “Werrrrt the cluck’s that?” Eyeing my slender form. “Qwwaaarrrrk. Qwwaaarrrrk. Qwwaaarrrrk.” Laughed the other (difficult with a beak). “That’s one o’ them thaarrrr… qwwaaarrrrk qwwaaarrrrk…stick insects.” Oh Lord. Laughed at by a pair of chickens. Thank goodness nobody was watching.

After a short, springy bit of tarmac, a swift descent down a woodland lane, and a breathless rush up the other side we appeared once again at the Common and gratefully viewed our waiting, warm cars. I came upon Spex and Fannybag and remarked that, on a lovely day like today one could almost feel Spring around the corner and that one could feel one’s sap definitely rising. Spex replied that she thought she had sprung a leak and Fannybag informed me innocently that, “My sticky buds are definitely out.” I feel no need to add anything to these two gems. Thankyou ladies :-)

For those of you who haven’t bought them or noticed that they are on sale let me tell you that Spot is now making a fortune (oh, all right, helping BH3 break even) selling this year’s T-shirts and running vests. He’s already cleared over 60(!) of the natty red objects and they are going like hot cakes. Incidentally, those of you who are not in the know – check out the tails of the sheep on the back and try and figure out what it all means. I must congratulate Spot on his portable sales device. Crafted from a Dell pc box, it is a skilfully made garment container with little, glued-in shelves for different sizes, a carrying handle and even a couple of knotted strings on the ‘doors’ for opening/closing. Our excellent Hash Haberdash is either a dextrous artisan with hands that could whip up a Hepplewhite out of a couple of orange boxes and a whoopee cushion, or a bloke who should get out more. I’m sure it is the former.

This was certainly one of the most enjoyable Hashes we have had. And from a pub that (I think) is new to us. Well done, Cerberus and Billy.

Gobsheet’s a bit short this week, I know. But I’m in a hurry. Got to get that blow-up sheep in the suitcase so the Homeland Security people don’t see it. See you in two weeks.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

The inestimable Dumper stood in for RA Simple and presented the following :-



Style points

Bumwiper, Su


Really rather good quaffing generally. Even Septic…


Darned if I know

Septic, Desperate

Birthday girls! Happy birthday!


Forgetting her runing shoes!

Enjoyed an extra half out of the slip-on

Cerberus, Billy

Today’s Hares

Very close run thing.

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Royal Oak, Westwood Glen
Tilehurst RG31 5NW





The Red Lion
Chievely RG20 8BX