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Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Utopia Donut Hashgate Greensleeves Ms Whiplash Salome Turdtreader Foghorn Cerberus BillyBullshit Desperate Shitfor Shitshoveller Penny Pitstop BGB Hamlet Iceman Swallow Slowsucker RainbowWarrior Flash Septic Dumper Shandyman Lonely Blowjob Simple Skids Pissquick Glittertits Caboose Poca Bogbrush Fannybag LoudonTasteless Spex Baldrick JWax Motox Soreskin Escort Jake Lara Dunny RampantRabbit CabinBuoy Zebedee Florence Itsyor Fiddler Dribbler Butterfly MessengerBoy Nick Dwight Scoot Samuel TinOpener Miranda Twanky C5 TT2 Whinge TC Pete

A G(reat) M(uddle)

Now you may think that title is a bit insulting. Not really. It fulfils the twin requirements of fact and humour that permeate every Gobsheet. It was indeed the night of our AGM and the Trail was a great muddle, ergo it was highly successful. Brave Vertigo had thrust his hand into the fire as a virgin Hare on the AGM Hash and brought it out unscathed and grasping a scintillating diamond. I realise this is a mite flowery on the metaphor front but why not? New Hares should always be lauded. Assuming Vertigo is a completely virgin Hare. Think he was. Ok. I’m wandering. It’s been a busy day.

Two events particularly characterise this Trail. The first was when, after only about 20 minutes, we found ourselves back in the car park! Bit of a surprise and several took the opportunity (Jake and Lara for instance) to get a drink from their car before hurling themselves down the long, long hill that led away from the Hall and towards the police dogs at the nearby police college who are known for their leg-gnawing tendencies. The second was halfway down a similar hill where a number of us found a Check… just before we were called On Back up the damn hill to where Vertigo was casually laying a flour arrow, pointing into the field next to the road. “Did we miss a Bar Check?” I asked in a friendly, if breathless manner. “Not really.” He replied with a grin and the implication that it would be laid forthwith, Hashgate, so there’s no need to worry your head about it.

I know, I know. Just teasing. There was a third characterising event. Dumper, our senior, supervising Hare had spoken to BGB a few days ago mentioning that taking the Hash through the pleasant churchyard would be quite a nice thing to do. Of course, BGB’s glasses steamed up at the thought of stealing a march on the FRBs and when it cam to the Trail he duly led everyone into it and we all burst off over the stile and into the field on the far side. Dumper (I believe) had laid a diversionary flour blob on the stile which led everyone to believe they were heading the right way. Naughty fellow! Lonely disappeared off down the hill appearing to call ‘On On’. The entire Pack suddenly swept left back up the hill towards a frightened neighbour who swiftly pointed out that the path went downhill. So the Pack went downhill. Florence and Glittertits were confused about why no Hares had appeared until suddenly dawned on us that we had been suckered. And back we went for a final pass through the churchyard. Very sneaky, Hares.

C5 was tapering. Not him, his training for the Bordeaux marathon he will be running on Saturday. We wish him the very best of ‘chance’. However, I did rather wonder if he was mentally tapering too. Either his sense of direction is as skewed as a drunken homing pigeon, or mine is. Imagine if you will, a ‘Y’. This represents the roads along which we ran. We were on the left fork and running towards the foot of the ‘Y’, towards the canal. He and I had agreed that the village hall was somewhere up on the right-hand fork and I mentioned that we were running away from the thing. “No we’re not.” He replied. “We’re running towards it.” Some debate ensued while we trotted. I posited the position that, if we turned left at the bifurcation of the forks then, yes, we would be running towards the hall. C5 scoffed at this assertion, insisting that we were indeed already running towards it. Rather than indulge in a stand-up rumble with the fellow I figured a diplomatic approach would work best and pointed out that whichever way we ran, eventually we would get back to the hall. One of those delightful grins split C5’s face in half. Phew, that saved me from a pasting.

After this a long, long loop led down the towpath where Caboose trekked along doggedly, closely followed by Shandyman, Poca and Florence, before turning back up yet another hill and through a farm to some horse fields. This was where Lonely attempted to placate a mad, bucking horse by whispering at it from 20 yards away. Unfortunately, this seemed to craze the creature even more and he slunk away leaving the rainbowing, stamping, snorting four-legged friend to its own devices. Fortunately, the hall was merely a step or two away.

The AGM

Only one major problem here. Or maybe it helped things along. Outgoing RA Glittertits had laid on a truly magnificent cold buffet. The sort that would have had attendees at The Field of The Cloth of Gold snorting into their hedhehog and peacock consommé. And, of course, the Hash had seen it when they filed into the committee room. All laid out in a too-tempting, succulent display that whispered ‘EAT ME!’ in the subliminal nostril-twitching scent that oozed unseen and deliciously from it. So perhaps the attention of BH³ was wandering during the reports and election of officers. Whatever it was we were done in just about half an hour. That’s what I call a damn good AGM.

Slowsucker had stood up to start the meeting by banging his small, lumpy object on the top table. Which got everyone’s attention fairly immediately. His GM report was short, concise and only a few heads were seen to be nodding, not necessarily in agreement. Next up was Spex, with her Hash Cash report. This confused more than a few since she had opted to sit at a table exactly opposite the location of the Committtee table and it took a while for some of the assembly to work out where she was. Since sums are not in the ‘Top Ten Things I’d Like To Do’ list of most of the Hash the figures were viewed swiftly, agreed sagely and consigned to the mental recycle bin. We all agreed wholeheartedly, however, to give £400 to Scarlet Pimpernel’s mesothelioma charity. And then followed the election of officers. Hamid Karzai would have been proud of the ‘democratic’ and rapid manner in which this was accomplished. No ‘stuffing’ of ballot boxes here. Names of the mentally challenged volunteers were read out by Slowsucker and posts rapturously agreed. Even when he managed to confuse LoudonTasteless with myself for the post of Hash Scribe. Luckily for Loudon the correct incumbent was recorded in the Minutes, scrupiously taken by Donut, for reasons best known to our Hon Sex. RA proved a bit tricky until that stalwart among Hashers, C5, stepped into the breach. Either that, or he had one of his ‘episodes’ which resulted in his arm being flung up unexpectedly at the apposite moment, Slowsucker spotted the involuntary gesture, C5 was noted in the Minutes and we moved quickly on. Biggest cheer of the night was reserved for Bogbrush who actually volunteered as Hash Tick, following the stepping down of Poca. Whether this long and deafening applause was for his altruistic action, or showed the relief of the rest of the members at not being ‘fingered’ for this particular job is up for debate.

And then we ate. Though Twanky chose to play with his food while in the queue. Placing one of those suggestively-shaped Polish snacks on his plate longitudally, he then placed two small tomatoes at one end. I chided him for his juvenile approach to comestibles whereupon the swiftly grabbed a handful of lettuce and placed it above the tomatoes before putting the snack latitudally below them so that a grinning face appeared. It was like watching Johhny Hart at work. Brilliant stuff that only added to the enjoyment of the sumptious repast.

Let’s thank everyone who has helped/will be helping on the Committee. Everyone is super-busy in their lives and without their organising skills BH3 would not be as successful as it is.

On On. Hashgate.

Up and Coming

Hash Walk – Saturday 10th October

Approximately 8 mile walk with pub lunch option. Starting promptly at 11:00 a.m. from Little Bedwyn (GR 294657). Please park near the pub or by the canal on the far side from the pub. Contact TinOpener or Lilo for more details.