Weekly Annual General Meeters

Dwight Julia OldDog Donut Swallow Hashgate Shitfor Desperate TC Whinge Cerberus Billy Bullshit Slackbladder Little Stiffy Loudon Tasteless Spex Itsyor Fiddler OldFart Poison Ivy Spot Hitchiker C5 C4 Dunny rampant Rabbit Glittertits Pissquick Gaffertits Tracy Jackie Yvonne Twanky Blowjob Nick Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Septic Dumper Muff Chopstix Shandyman Slowsucker Bogbrush Fannybag Lilo Tinopener Iceman Hamlet Fukawe CabinBuoy Baldrick JWax Dribbler Butterfly BGB Skidmarks AWOL Simple Potty Nutcracker Shitshoveller Penny Pitstop Snowballs Andy Cheating Zebedee TT2

BH³ 30^th AGM

Ahhhh. After 3½ hours on a train from Manchester with intermittent internet and mobile phone access, plus a young lad opposite whose sole occupation (apart from driving his mum and dad bonkers) was to make prolonged mooing noises it is a pleasure to sit down and write the Gobsheet. Incidentally, I must thank young Fiddler for writing last week’s sheet while Donut and I scaled peaks for pleasure (we were in the Lake District you naughty people!). Though I found it rather amusing that the fellow used the phrase ‘promised a good deal of shaggy’. Obviously a Freudian slip there – hormones running riot etc.

Tonight’s excellent trail was laid by that master of trail-laying, Motox. We slopped through damp woods, trudged along some tarmac, survived that ankle-breaking rough ground by the pylons and finished with a lot of up-hilling and down-hilling in a housing estate – though I understand Cheating didn’t quite follow the trail here. But who am I to talk? Glittertits knows the area like the palm of his hairy hand and led Gaffertits, Muff and Poison Ivy and others away fom the housing estate at the end and virtually straight back to the Village Hall. What a fine chap! Talking of Poison Ivy, after the Hash in the car park she said to me (since we had parked next to her nifty Boxter), “Hashgate. Come and put your hand on my vent. It’s really hot.” Not wishing to disappoint a lady in need, I complied, agreeing that, yes, it was indeed fearfully warm. She then invited me to place my hand on her vent round the other side, which was surprisingly cool. Now it’s not often that a gent is invited by a lady to do this kind of thing in public and I was duly surprised and delighted by her invitation. However, I couldn’t figure why her car should have one hot side after being left in the car park for an hour. Any ideas?

OldDog rather perfectly described the Pack at one particularly enigmatic Check as a ‘huddle in a muddle. The entire flock had baa’d off along a False with Baldrick helpfully (he thought) kicking out the Check, then replacing the flour. Then kicking it out again… and replacing the flour again as everyone backtracked from another False. Such is the devious Motox mind.

The Meeting began auspiciously with our current GM, BGB requesting a less raucous event than usual since the good burghers of the Village Hall had intelligently double-booked the venue, so we were sharing with the local gardening society who were cloistered on the other side of a partition and making considerablt less noise than we were. Even though BGB offered to bribe them to go down the local pub they merely glanced agriculturally and bucolically at him, muttering things like, “ooo aaarrrr.” And, “The arnswer loise in the soil.” Before touching the side of their bulbous red noses and decamping to their cubby-hole. In addition, it was realised half way through that no-one was there to take the minutes. Though the minutes are rarely if ever read (since most Hashers even have trouble with The Beano) Donut, like a Tesco shelf-stacker diving, with no thought of personal safety, to replace the can of beans removed by a mischevious infant from a tottering Heinz pyramid, put pen to paper and offered to change the date and venue on last year’s minutes.

The highlight of the event, apart from the excellent cold buffet and puddings supplied by outgoing HashMash Loudon Tasteless, was the election of this year’s Grand Master. Unusually for absolutely any post on the Committee there was contention for the regal position of GM. The prolonged dinging and donging of Barack and Hilary were as nothing to the Machiavellian machinations, skullduggery, posturing, bribery, intrigue, corruption and attempted vote-rigging by our two combatants: Slowsucker and Simple. The interminable vote-wheedling, baby-kissing, spin-doctoring farrago was eventually decided by good old British democratic process. GBS described it accurately when he wrote, "Elections are decided by the votes of the uneducated many for the corrupt few." Dribbler distributed voting slips, instructed a good number of Hashers how to fashion a cross with a biro, then collected and counted the votes with Butterfly. Since he is extremely savvy and active in the political arena and Butterfly is both very nice and utterly above reproach the announcement by these two returning officers that Slowsucker had been elected to the coveted post was accepted immediately and without demur. Unfortunately, for poor Slowsucker BGB had ensured the GM post was filled before all the others so he had to sit there, eyes glistening and lips drooling before his trembling hand could grasp the unimaginable crown and place it on his head with all the pomp, triumph and glory the action warranted. However, when the moment came, he stepped forward with no hesitation, thrust BGB roughly aside and grasped the gavel of power which he brought down upon the table with a sound like thunder. I expected the air to rend asunder, angels and trumpets, maidens with garlands in their hair strewing rose petals, the assembled throng drawing back and bowing or curtseying in awe, the Hallelujah Chorus. It wasn’t quite like that. Some time before, Cheating had stood to raise a point of order, then rambled on fairly incoherently for some minutes, praising the Committee and thanking everyone in sight before realising he had lost the plot and sitting down again. Of course, it should fall to the incoming GM to perform this function but poor Slowsucker could hardly repeat what had already been said, could he? Still, he twanged a bent arrow at the target and managed to bounce it off an outer ring. Not easy when the Hash, which has the mental staying power of a gnat, had spotted that the food was almost ready.

I wish Slowsucker well. Anyone who becomes the GM is taking on a commitment. Especially so when our Hash is so well run. Good luck my boy.

A full list of the Committee appears below:-

Lastly I have to mention Zebedee and TT2. I don’t know if you have ever watched them when food is laid on at a Hash but trust me, it’s worth it. After the initial rush by everybody to get their platefulls and take them back to the tables they can be seen hovering and buzzing round the remains like two blow flies round a succulent, suppurating wildebeest carcass in the sun-drenched Serengeti. Every now and again they home in on a tasy morsel; hoover it up with zeal and joy. Then perform another couple of circuits before repeating the process. If the food hasn’t all gone or Hash Mash and helpers don’t clear it away they go on for hours. Lord knows where they put it all!

Here’s to another year of great Hashing with BH³. On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

Unusually, our outgoing RA Simple actually managed to have this done in minutes flat by awarding them only to our two Hares. Regarding the good Simple and wishing to help him build a little personal esteem, since I know how self-effacing he can be, we should thank him for his superb efforts in the RA role. He’s put a lot of time and effort into it; given us fun and laughter. So well done, Simple. Much appreciated :-)

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