Ankle Snappers

Alan Blowjob Twanky Swallow Donut Hashgate Vertigo Paula Snowballs Tinopener Lilo and dog Emma Slowsucker Iceman Hamlet Spot Baldrick Stinkingbishop Grommet Bomber Posh Zebede Florence Honeymonster C5 Kate Simple Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Dumper Septic EasilyLed Fannybag Bogbrush Dunny RampantRabbit Foghorn Lonely OldDog Itsyor Fiddler Motox Shitshoveller Penny Pitstop ShutupWally and rat Bonnie BGB CabinBuoy Cheating

The Long Trail To Nowhere

Never thought of Glittertits as a modern version of Wackford Squeers. Yet there he was, in the middle of our Circle, attempting to beat his daughter Gaffertits senseless with his walking stick. Perhaps it was a fit of pique brought on out of frustration after having twisted his ankle in an agouti burrow entrance while laying the Trail earlier. It certainly could not have been choreographed better. Just as he finished his Hare’s introduction he swung up his stick to indicate the On Out as Gaffertits appeared by his side. Whack! Luckily, Gaffertits has a bonce like a coconut (similar hair too) and suffered no lasting damage. Presumably there was no psychological scarring. She must be immune after years of living with GT.

So, to a rousing cheer, GT informed us that, due to the injury, there was no Long Trail at the Long/Short split. This turned out to be more fortunate for us than we thought since the rest of the Trail, as Simple informed us at the Down Downs later, consisted of running like mad buggers 3 miles one way. Then running like mad buggers 3 miles back. That about summed up the Trail. Not surprising, considering the state of our injured Hare. Consequently, the Pack was spread fairly wide apart after just a short time, with the FRBs (and just about everyone else) running pell mell along the Trail. It was probably just as well we got back earlier than expected since the lowering, rain-heavy clouds brought on the dusk early and had condemned the wooded areas to almost Stygian darkness.

Which means there’s damn all to write about since we were all running so fast. But here goes anyway.

Scene 1

We had been warned by GT about a protective mare and her foal. We came upon the beautiful creatures, along with some others, in a spectacularly muddy field. Through the middle of which Cheating slurped. Mr Blobby and I found this most surprising, since Cheating is known for rarely following the Trail. We followed, a spurt of gelatinous shiggy spurting up my shin. A cry of ‘On On’ came from behind us so we turned back, a spurt of viscous horse poo spurting up my calf, only to find the crier had been mistaken. Luckily, Gaffertits appeared, laid a large flour arrow to the left and Mr Blobby and I stumbled off across the lumpy, buttercup-strewn paddock towards a farm track. By this time the mare, foal and assorted horsey pals were leaping about, snorting and stamping, eager to join the herd of Hashers running their way. Now Mr Blobby is obviously not entirely knowledgeable about horses and his eldritch ‘On On’ squeal had the same effect as Lester Piggot’s whip on Red Rum’s rump. The horses bolted, whinnied, neighed and generally exhibited all the symptoms of equine panic. I could see the headlines: “Two Arrested For Horse Affray”. Mr Blobby is not a horse whisperer.

Scene 2

The Pack gingerely approached a narrow stile next to a small field containing two young heifers. They were curious about us and wandered side-by-side a little closer as we painstakingly vaulted the stile. They stood there in slightly knock-kneed, black-and-white puzzlement, looking on as Mrs Blobby eased herself contentedly along the other side of the fence. Mrs Blobby, like Donut, is not enamoured of large, furry beasts. The creatures began to amble closer, prompting an almost stampede on our side of the fence but they were more interested in the pile of juicy hay next to them and began to munch happily on mouthfuls of the stuff, chewing in that jaw-sliding manner of ruminants; an action matched later in the pub by Zebedee as he toothed his way through a lengthy bap-in-a-basket.

So there you have it – the two major events on tonight’s Hash. What else was there? Well, I had to wonder about Cheating sexual orientation when informed me, after a long hack in the same direction that, “It’s about time we turned.” Before mincing very gingerly over an electric cattle wire that Motox stepped manfully across, giving not a care that his dangly bits were but inches from stunning oblivion. Fortunately for him it was turned off.

When we turned to come back it was every man, woman and whatever else passes for a Hasher for themselves as we hurtled along the largely Check-free terrain. Hamlet found the Long and Short split and, mindful of GT’s warning that anyone who took the Long would run out of Trail and get incredibly lost, took great pleasure in rubbing it out with his foot. An action mentally applauded by Dunny, RampantRabbit and myself as we puffed up after him. The last bit took us stumbling up the hilly field towards the pub, splashing in the standing water and tripping over the rucks in the ground. Since everyone knew where we were the Trail was largely abandoned and the Hash spread across the field, trying to find the shortest route back to beer and food in the welcoming pub.

Damn fine effort, Hares, given that one of you was daft enough to injure himself. However, in a perverse way we breathed a sigh of relief that the Long trail was never laid – the Short had been around 6 miles and there was damn little rest on the way. Thanks to you both and hope it gets better soon GT.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Simple presented the following :-

Easily Led the way

Up and Coming