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Nettlebed Village Club


Florence, Zebedee

Torch Bearers

Penny Pitstop Shitshoveller Donut Hashgate Cerberus Billy Bullshit Desperate Dumper Septic C5 Utopia Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Dipstick Ladybird CS Gas Blowjob Swallow Slowsucker Twanky Messenger Boy Glittertits Pissquick Poca Old Dog Shutupwally Honeymonster NappyRash PP and dog Barney Cheating Ms Whiplash Salome Helen Skinny Dipper Itsyor Fiddler Old Fart Nick Dee Whinge Amorak TrainSpotter Bomber Posh Motox Dave Emily Flash Rainbow Warrior Slackbladder Little Stiffy TT2 Ed Pyro

Kept In The Dark

It’s too dark”. “Too long”. “Should have started at 6 o’clock”. “Can’t see where I’m going”. These were just some of the pathetic whines that were heard during the darker phase of this Trail. Some people just don’t know how lucky they are. Consider if you will, the humble sea cucumber. Donut and I learnt all about this unfortunate creature during a marine biology and booze trip in the Mediterranean last week. For starters it resembles a large poo with warts on. Not a great way to go through life but it gets worse. While crawling slowly and blindly along the sea floor this echinoderm is often singled out by a particularly nefarious little fish that would surely have been given a sea-based ASBO were it of British origin. The fish swims to each end of the sea cucumber, sniffing the while until it ascertains which is the bottom. Not content with this olfactory abuse it then turns itself around and insinuates itself into what it perceives as the cosy orifice, making itself perfectly at home. This does not assist the sea cucumbers digestive processes. But it gets worse. Much worse. The fish does not get all the sustenance it requires and supplements its diet by munching on the sexual organs of its reluctant landlord. At this point the sea cucumber has (I’m sure you would feel the same) had enough. Gathering itself together it summons up the most explosive underwater fart known to the sea world, expelling its lodger in a move that would have earned applause from Mr Rachmann. This not only rids itself of the fish but rather a lot of its internal organs. Luckily for the sea cucumber it can not only regrow its insides but can also grow a brand new willy – quite a trick if you can master it. But, of course, there are always more fish… As the old saying goes there’s always someone or something worse off than you. Our picture illustrates though, that even something this ugly can be attractive to some people. The gentleman in the rubber suit is showing off his giant sea cucumber to a lady who seems rather over-enthused about its dimensions.

Yes, it was a longish Trail and yes, it was pretty dark by the time we stumbled back. I guess we should have expected it when we all stood round at the Circle at 7 o’clock waiting for our Hares to appear. Zeb never did, in fact. It was left to young Flo to represent the Trail Layers. No doubt Zeb had wanted to go that extra mile to show off the snazzy, knee-high, anti-DVT and calf-supporting socks that he was wearing. Very natty. Almost as natty as the miniscule shorts Posh was sporting. Think 118 adverts then halve the amount of material and you’ve got it. Nice and cooling (unless you were running behind her) but not ideal for the early nettles.

Desperate, I am pleased to note, has finally opted for a sensible hair colour. Titanium. Excellent selection and one which dramatically enhances the owner of said tresses. Once the nicotine-stain colouring at the ends has grown out she will be able to join a rather elite group and revel in the attention she so fully deserves. The colour was particularly noticeable as we ran past an apparent bomb hole she was attempting to climb out of . Quite why she was in it in the first place we didn’t know. As she struggled gamely (and luminously) out of it ShutupWally attempted to push her back in. Not a very gentlemanly action which was thoroughly rewarded when he managed to throw himself in while Desperate slipped nimbly out. We gave him a small round of applause. Young D. also managed to rub up our revered R.A. Glittertits the wrong way when he spotted her kicking out a Check without apparently having heard the ‘On On’ and took her to task. Trouble was, it turned out to be the right way and, not wishing to miss the opportunity she told him in no uncertain terms that he had been wrong and she had been right all along. A rather evil gleam came into GT’s eye and I can imagine it be only a matter of time before Down Down payback.

Quote of the Hash this week came from the lithe and angel-faced Poca who declared, in no uncertain terms, that she is “a big hairy man boy”. This immediately after stating, while negotiating a tricky stile, that, “I’m not catching my ball bag on that.” I can only suggest that she is the product of a turbid upbringing. One can only shudder to think how her recent honeymoon went.

The first of the Regroups appeared after a long, long Zeb-inspired loop which the sensible Short Cutters ignored completely We stood and steamed for a while before a) not finding the Trail, then b) gasping our way up a bloody great big hill where ShutupWally irritated everyone by shouting at all and sundry to run while PP did just that, assisted by the puffing and white-faced Barney. That dog has more oomf about him than the entire Pack. Of course, having gone all the way up the darn hill we had to come back down, though Fiddler, Slackbladder and I were a tad miffed at finding a Bar across the downward track and only thick bramble hedges either side of the previous blob. Flo arrived and informed us breezily that this had been laid by the Victoria Hash. We had no idea who the Victoria Hash was but were pleased to be given Papal Dispensation to cross the Bar.

Now Glittertits is rightly proud of his house and grounds. Very nice it is. But when he started listing the merits of his shed: laminate flooring, double-glazing, plaster-boarded walls, fully tiled etc we scurried onward with renewed vigour. Which was just as well because it was beginning to get dark. Our Hares managed to get the entire pack lost in the bosky wood and we crashed around blindly having lost the Trail. Luckily, we were not far from the end (about a mile or so) but it was all uphill! In the dark! Tripping over rocks n’ stuff! Even Utopia at one point said a rude word. But we all made it ok and the Hares kindly laid large four arrows to guide us, Flo also offering the helpful advice, “When you get to the end of this track you’ll know where you are.”

Fine Trail you two… even though we couldn’t see some of it :-)

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Glittertits presented the following :-



Style points

Little Stiffy/Slackbladder

Her birthday/his drink

Very nice


Stood in for friend and Virgin Ed

No problem at all


An elegant Hash Crash

Slipped it down

Rainbow Warrior

Simian behaviour in the trees

Whimped out

Skinny Dipper

Showing her pants to Motox (what was she thinking!!)

Showed a clean pair of, er, heels to the drink

CS Gas

Blaming Desperate for his misdemeanours (but I don’t know what they were)

Exceptionally speedy

Florence, Zebedee

Our Hares

Flo just shaded it in a keenly fought contest

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Chequers Inn
Fingest RG9 6QD





The Elvetham, Hartley Wintney
Hanmpshire RG27 8AR

Helen, Honeymonster,
Fruit ‘n Nut