Ladies, Boys and Some Ladyboys

Snowballs Desperate Shitfor Cerberus Billy Bullshit Hashgate Donut (Our names were left out last week - must have a go at the Scribe) Nina Adrian BGB Handful PP Nappyrash and dog Barney Ms Whiplash Salome Twanky Blowjob Horny Pissquick Glittertits Gaffertits Foghorn TT2 Zebedee Cheating Bomber Posh Simple Skids Rainbow Warrior Flash Nick Dorothy Vertigo Whinge TC Motox Shitfor Penny Pitstop Iceman Dunny Rampant Rabbit Soreskin Jake Dipstick lemming Mother Theresa Tinopener Lilo and dog Emma goody Two Shoes Streaky Bacon Webfart Warm and Fluffy Shandyman Chopstix Gatecrasher Fukawe Hamlet

BH³’s 2009 Red Dress Run

Quite what visitors and virgins Nina and Adrian made of it all remains to be seen. Adrian’s more of a cricket man, playing the white man for the genteel game as opposed to the scarlet lady of today’s rough Hash. There was only a slight hesitation in their step as they spotted Twanky in a bright red wig and (unfortunately) a figure hugging dress. Clashing violently with his tonsorial confection was Blowjob, resplendant in a bright pink bob. There was something of the Doris Day about her. Though I don’t think it extended below fringe level. Zebedee surprised everyone by not wearing that nurse’s uniform he is so fond of. And he did insist on showing a variety of other Hashers his heart-embossed underwear which had several heaving and retching over the nearest bush or dog. There were those who entirely bottled it, preferring Desperate Dan to Danny La Rue. These included Vertigo, Simple (though the thought of Simple in women’s clothing is something most people would rather brush hurriedly under the mental carpet) and Nick, who at least made some kind of butch lesbian effort by arriving in a bright red boiler suit. Even Lemming who, in the past I shudder to remember, has sported stockings and suspenders wore nothing visibly feminine. When I quizzed him on it he replied, “Ever woken up in the morning and felt ‘I just can’t be arsed’?” I imagine that driving round the M25 in all that kit is probably not all it’s cracked up to be. I was rather impressed by Shandyman and Glittertits who strode manfully and slightly splay-footed across the road towards the Pack, gathering outside the pub, This attempt at asserting their masculinity failed dismally since they were wearing what appeared to be a cocktail and a sack dress, respectively. Our picture today shows (from l. to r.) Poison Ivy and Florence in the foreground with BGB on the far left wearing his usual bedtime attire next to Snowballs, looking pensive and virginal, with Flash on the far right opting for the bag lady from hell look.

The event had almost been scuppered, literally, by the flooding that greeted our arrival. The car park we had hoped to park in was under a couple of feet of water and Flo and Poison Ivy had had to change the route to avoid any drownings. So we ran rather more round the town and tarmac than we had expected which gave the good burghers of Wallingford quite a bit to smile about. Especially the little old lad we met fairly early on. She was rather hesitantly pushing one of those shopping bags on wheels like older ladies do and it looked her main pleasure of the day was to be a spot of pork chop selection in Waitrose (unless, of course the tightly zipped bag contained some industrial rubber bondage gear and she was just saving herself for later). Either way, the Pack had stopped by a snicket where the Trail could have gone in any of four directions (except the one Glittertits had tripped lightly down, finding himself alone, in a dress, in a small shopping precinct). The old lady’s face creased into its best NHS smile and we all exchanged some good-natured banter until called On down the snicket. We looked back to wave and she waved to us, still smiling and tucking what appeared to be the brecelet from a pair of handcuffs that had poked its way out of her bag. We were following Dipstick and not one of us was too eager to get to close to him since he was wearing the shortest plum mini-dress and a blonde afro wig. This is the basis of enjoying a good Red Dress Run Hash. Stay with The Pack at all times. I remember getting a little carried away with the running a couple of years back, finding myself bang in the middle of Henley in a rather fetching mini skirt and bolero jacket. I was the Chair of a local Scout, Cub and Beaver Group at the time and The Henley Standard newspaper office was but a footstep away…

The first Regroup appeared and we all staggered up to it to check our hair and nails and make sure the seams were straight. Shitfor gasped up, wearing silky red pyjamas. “If I’d known we were in for so much tarmac I’d have worn my on-road PJs.” He spluttered. His good lady Desperate was wearing a splendid red kaftan, initially raising a few heart rates when offering to show what she had on underneath, but lowering them rapidly when we saw the full running gear hidden below the folds.

We ran fast and free for quite some time along roads and pavements with Dunny professing exhaustion at the pace but keeping up quite nicely thankyou. And then we were at the the second Regroup. Much better than the first. It was located in the tumbledown St. John the Baptist church at Mongewell which overlooked the nearby river. It wasn’t supposed to but the flooding had extended quite close by. When our lady Hares arrived they dispensed pink bubbly and chocolate delights, assisted by people like Simple who offered me a finger (chocolate) that I accepted gratefully. TT2 got an additional pleasure after complaining of a tight calf when Donut gave his hairy member (steady!) a firm rubbing. It was surprising how many other male Hashers complained of stiff members after her kind expression of medical assistance.

S

Motox takes a break during the Hash

Got to give it up for today’s Trail-laying sisters. Difficult conditions. Large turnout expected. But the Trail was great fun and the beautifully drawn hearts instead of the usual circular Checks were a nice touch. Thanks ladies.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Glittertits presented the following :-

Crikey! No hanging about there.

Up and Coming