Where Do They All Come From?

Iceman Caboose Donut Hashgate Mrs Pimp Scarlet Pimpernel Shitfor Desperate Billy Bullshit Nappyrash TC Whinge Motox Cap’n Haystax(after 6 years!) Nippon Tuck Saskia Puppy Foghorn Poisoned Chalice OldDog Spot Utopia Mrs Blobby Ms Whiplash Dumper C5 Fritz Poca Pissquick Dribbler Butterfly Mike Horny Blowjob Mike (another one) Twanky Dorothy Escort Nick BGB Bomber Posh Cheating Florence Zebedee TT3 OldFart Itsyor Fiddler LoudonTasteless Spex Baldrick JWax Dunny Rampant Rabbit ShutupWally Amrei Stripper Oz Monica Psyclogical Lonely Flash… and later, after an evening of relaxation elsewhere, PP

Dogging and Ducking!

Amazing how people reappear isn’t it? After six years or so, Cap’n Haystax blew back into the Hash like a dandelion ‘fairy’ brought to us on a light summer breeze – and with a very similar hair cut. Nice to see you again, Cap’n. As we drove to the pub, about ½ a mile away we spotted TT3 who had parked his car in an empty car park (for the casuistic among you I realise the car park could not be empty, since he had parked in it. Just leave it, ok? I had enough trouble this week with Motox who accused me of being unable to spell ‘luscious’ in a previous Gobsheet) by a village nissen hut and who was lurking behind said vehicle, struggling to remove his trousers. We drove swiftly on, chatting quickly about the pleasant, sunny evening and trying not to worry about what bank managers get up to in their spare time.

A whole mass of people, no doubt invigorated by the day’s sunshine and the thought of enjoying a Trail laid by three of our most attractive lady Hashers (I know, pass the sick bag) milled in the car park until called to order by tonight’s stand-in GM, Dumper. Hare Cerberus warned us about a farmer who had shouted at our ladies as they laid the Trail and LoudonTasteless, behind me, revealed his darker side by threatening sotto voce to “Duff the bugger up” if he tried to put his oar in again. Ooer.

Let me just break there and tell you a funny story about Whinge. He and TC had spent a very liquidly convivial evening on Saturday at PP and Nappy Rash’s house, celebrating PP’s birthday. They had cycled there from the other side of Caversham, a couple of hills away. At the end of the evening they wobbled off on their bikes, Whinge seeming to struggle a litle more than usual to push the pedals round. What he didn’t know at the time was that Billy, who had also attended the event, had slipped a couple of 5lb weights into the two panniers on the back of his bike when he wasn’t looking. What larks! I understand that Whinge’s description of how he was going to return the two weights to Billy brought a tear to TC’s eye. Sideways, I believe.

Let’s go straight to the Trail before we wander off too much. The Hares had gone mad with the first part of it. Enthused and incented they excelled themselves with forest-based Checks and Bar-6’s aplenty that had the Pack whimpering for mercy, running in several directions at once and finally having to be led in the right direction by Desperate who was all for giving Billy a damn good clogging later since he had cut out at least one loop. Several of us agreed to help, discussing among ourselves whether steel toecaps or deep sea divers’ boots would be more appropriate footwear.

Lonely appeared from somewhere, dressed in Cambridge United amber and black, as we all lost it again at a Check by a stile. Dorothy tried to run round it, not seeing the single strand of barbed wire that threatened to raise his voice by an octave. Just before here we had been video’d (videoed? Videod? Vidayowed? Sod it – filmed) by Jwax, trying out what appeared to be a new toy. Everyone, of course, gets a tad self-conscious as they near the squinting recorder and there were a number of false grins, male (and female) chest-thrustings and one tussock tripper. If JWax intends to load this video on to Facebook I just hope to God she loads the right one from her collection… if you know what I mean.

The pace was exceptionally fast for a hot night and I found myself next to Dunny and Rampant Rabbit, the former explaining to Poca that they had been unsure how to sign her Hash wedding card. Perhaps just ‘Rabbit’ would have been the best option? At this point the fellow stepped straight into the elephant trap by declaring testosteronically, “I reckon I should have signed it ‘Rampant’!” The withering riposte from Dunny was as slick as a stiletto between the ribs. “Why ever would that be, dear?” She breathed. Wow! Remind me to keep on her good side.

It was just after this that C5 declared himself to be ‘tumescent’ to Florence as the three of us hurtled towards the Regroup. Given the conversational context I’m sure he meant ‘turbulent’. All the same I was pleased that I was running behind him at the time. Speaking of Florence, the poor girl was speaking like Minnie Mouse on helium, having lost the use of most of her voice. How sorry we felt for her. We didn’t snigger at all.

The Regroup was a forest path filled with steaming Hashers, watching assistant Hare (I think) Baldrick desperately struggling to reach the Pack via a thicketed hump. We watched, alternately fascinated and concerned, as he almost fell straight into the bracken and dead stick-filled hole in front of him, hoping against hope that a mighty crackling and a high-pitched curse would bring our eager watching to a satisfying conclusion. Alas, it was not to be and he gave up, standing awkwardly on the hump, nonchalent hands on his hips and a couple of sticks up one leg of his shorts. It was at this point that Shitfor offered his opinion that Desperate was a ‘slapper’. I’ll leave that to him to explain :-)

A damn long Long Trail and a Medium Trail led off from here, the Long beginning with a whackdoodle of a hill that had us gasping and pop-eyed like Foghorn, who we bumped into later, bearing young Saskia on his back in a carrier, who was urging him on with a mental, “Giddup grandad, you bearded old bugger!” Even though the little person can’t talk yet. Interestingly, many of us have felt the same, while running behind him on previous Hashes. On this long track back we met the walkers, Nippon Tuck went over like a sack of potatoes and we found a 2-way Check with the letters ‘SS’ at one end. Anyone know what that meant? At least the ‘On Inn’ was only a mile or so from the pub and we trotted in exhaustedly, having thoroughly enjoyed our evening in the sun and countryside. Thanks Hares.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Spot presented the following :-

Not bad for an old biddy

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