Ladies (for a) Day

WonderWoman (Heavy Petting) TotalStrumpet (NappyRash) Donut Hashgate Cerberus Honeymonster and dog Max Dumper Septic Slackbladder Little Stiffy and dog Maisie LoudonTasteless Spex Desperate Sh*tfor C5 NoSole Slapper OldFart CabinBuoy BGB PennyPiststop Noreen Bumwiper and dog Ebony Mandy Blowjob Ms Whiplash Pancake Lungs Charlotte Pippa Lemming Mother Theresa Booby Messenger Boy Slippery Handful JustMoist Spot Motox SkinnyDipper Bogbrush Fannybag Waldron John Full Frontal

The International Women’s Day Hash

International Women’s Day is on Tuesday, 8^th March. 100 years of economic, political and social achievements. Check out the website at http://www.internationalwomensday.com/. BH³ was determined to celebrate it in style, thanks to Old Dog ‘and her puppies’, according to the Run Sheet. There was some discussion in the pub a couple of Friday’s ago as to whether we would get to see Old Dog’s puppies and indeed whether it would be politically correct to do so and whether, it being IWD, we should even be discussing such a subject. Vote was split 4 to 3 with 1 suggesting a compromise - we get to see just one puppy. In the event, the only puppy (almost) was Maisie, Slack and Little Stiffy’s friendly labrador. Old Dog was actually covered from head to foot in what appeared to be a leopard print kimono, topped off with a similar, furry hat. Which was infinitely preferable to what some of the male members of this all-female Hash were wearing. C5, knowing that Zebedee would not be around today, stole his raison d’etre and paraded about in a nurse’s uniform, black tights (ugh!) and a blonde wig. Worse was CabinBuoy in a curious combination of punk and Frank’n Furter with a black curly wig and a generally fearsome appearance. He too had sheathed his legs in night-sky 40-denier. JustMoist and I noticed a curious thing while viewing him from the back during the Trail. One of his calves/ankles is bigger than the other. Or one is slimmer than the other, depending on how you view them. I thought Heavy Petting had slim ankles but his take the biscuit. Delicate hardly describes the limb. Turned by fairy craftsmen, that one. But the worst of all was Waldron (now named I-Plod) whose idea of What Women Look Like is truly psychedelic. An appalling wig topped off a pantomime face with what appeared to be measles but turned out to be freckles. Frankly, if this represents what males think females are like I fear for the world. Fortunately, it doesn’t 

Luckily, the ‘real’ ladies offered a delightful counterpoint to the blokes. Lungs and Pancake looked superb with fairy wings, wands and long stripy socks. Desperate wore a rather fashionable fascinator – it waggled on her titanium coiffure like a pecking blackbird. Heavy Petting (as mentioned above) wore a superb Wonder Woman outfit – I kept well away from her golden lariat in case she asked any probing, personal questions. Skinny Dipper’s outfit was missing only a drooping fag from the corner of her mouth. She wore a washing-up apron and curlers under a hairnet – very ‘50s.

The day was finally sunny after a long period of grey and cold. We slipped lightly over the sward, tripped among the tussocks and floated through the forests. And some of us had a little help. Bumwiper had craftily tied the lead of the ever-pressing-forward Ebony to her belt. Very helpful up the hills. Motox and I discussed her idea and one of us (can’t remember which…) offered the opinion that a couple of large german shepherds might do the job more efficiently. Now we were merely thinking mechanics but BW got the impression that we were casting aspersions on the slenderness of her frame. Next thing we know, handfuls of leaves and shiggy were being shovelled by her down our necks. Since Motox walks rather than runs these days I did the only gentlemanly thing and shot off like a cat out of Hell, leaving him to his fate. As I understand it, he’s always fancied being covered in mud by an attractive woman. Guess he got the best end of the deal.

The Regroup afforded Donut and me a glimpse of the true side of the Hare relationship between Old Dog and Iceman. We were about the last to leave. She turned as Iceman puffed up in his long black skirt. Luckily, he too is Scottish so understood the Gaelic diatribe she unleashed against him. A lesser chap (or a Sassenach) would have quailed under the onslaught. It went something like: “Wirra the Short Trailers ye finchy hootensassin’ detfissy mc’boodle!!? Hae ye a tongue in ye’re heed ye tetburrrrrn mankbooly?” Iceman wiped off the spittle, drew himself up and let her have it back: “Och, ye’re nuth’n but a steckwithy ya lummickin’ great numpty. Can ye no see the Short Trailers are nae aboot. The hool caboodle are on the Long. If ye had a brain cell in that turrrnip heed o’ yours it’d be bluddy lonely ya knockwithy auld boot.” For those whose knowledge of Hibernian argot is limited to ‘Lang may ye’r lum reek’ let me translate. It went thus: “I say, Iceman my dear fellow. Have you kept an eye on the bally Short Trailers?” The response to which was: “Don’t worry, old girl. The blighters have all gone on the Long, doncha know.”

The Trail followed some kind of figure-of-eight principle that saw us loop away from the Regroup, only to eventually waver back. Motox declared himself mentally scarred by the experience so I made a note on my recorder that there was probably so much scar tissue there already that the likelihood of finding any fresh mental meat was highly unlikely.

Apart from Mother Theresa falling a*se over head when she tripped over a root the journey back was uneventful but just as much fun as the rest of this excellent Trail. We thank today’s Hares. We thoroughly enjoyed it. Pity Old Dog got lost just before the end… 

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA C5 presented the following :-

Well deserved – many of us have felt the same

Up and Coming