Wet and Willing

Flash Donut Hashgate Tinopener Lilo and dog Minx Foghorn DragonLady TC Whinge Motox Iceman Nick Benjamin Josephine OldFart Honeymonster and dog Max BGB MessengeBoy Ms Whiplash Spot Booby OldFart Slippery Nutty Potty Simple Skids SkinnyDipper RampantRabbit Dunny Zebedee HeavyPetting Nappyrash Florence Lungs PennyPitstop CabinBuoy Twanky Glittertits Pissquick Mike Dorothy Dumper Baldrick

A Jolly Nice Hash

Let’s get the apologies made first. The list of Hash Committee Members last week missed Nutty and Potty as joint Trailmaster and Twanky was down as sole Hash Ents when, of course, he is sharing the rôle with Skids. I have given the low-life hack responsible for the gaffes a severe dressing down and reduced his beer allowance. Sadly, we have to rely on his less than Pulitzer skills for a little longer but I am actively seeking a replacement, possibly a young, female journalist with the right amount of experience to add a differenty dimension to this organ.

So then. Is it Crusty? Toasty? Trusty? Coasty? You may well wonder what I am talking about. We wondered what Dumper was talking about when he named today’s Hare Mark at the Down Downs. He couldn’t seem to make his mind up exactly what name he had given him. We had originally believed that the sobriquet SheepShagger would have attached itself to the fellow like duct tape, after he had opined at the Gather Round before the Hash that the sheep on the Trail had been ‘very friendly’. But today’s RA, Dumper (standing in for C5 who was, amazingly for him, unwell) had a different idea. It seems that Mark had actually called his girlfriend after laying the Trail and asked her to bring him some toast. Incredibly, she did so. A hot, toasted crust of bread. Wonder what he’s got on her? Dumper decided that Toasty was an ideal name. Then had changed his mind. Problem was, during the naming ceremony, ably assisted by flour maiden, Dunny, he constantly mentioned both Crusty and Toasty. So I’m thinking Crusty-Toasty would cover both options and result in less overall confusion. I’ll leave it up to you.

The White Lion is a pub we haven’t Hashed from for ages and it’s improved a bit since last time. From its shuttered, ivy-covered exterior to its cosy interior it exudes charm. This had obviously affected the Hash since there seemed to be a dragging reluctance by our group to On Out. Surely this could not be because Hare Crusty-Toasty was a virgin at this lark? If this was so we could not have beeen wronger (I know. But it seemed to flow and if legendary scribblers such as Thomas Hardy could make up his own words why can’t I?) for this was to be an excellently laid Trail through fields and forests with something for everyone to enjoy. Curiously, it was the elder mentor of the Hares who admitted to making an almighty cock-up (ok, perhaps it wasn’t that bad) when we all completely lost it in a forest and found ourselves running back on the path from whence we had came. His comment that, “I might have laid it a bit tight there.” was generously received since we were having such a good time.

Booby seemed to be having the most torrid time of all of us, running up one False after another and getting every one-Blob Check wrong. Didn’t seem to phase him though. He raced and skittered about like one of the poor sheep that had been earlier been chased by Crusty-Toasty’s father’s naughty little dog. Fortunately, it was caught and stopped before the local farmer appeared with a Gatling and blew the little bugger to smithereens.

The weather, which had initially shone warm sun upon us benevolently, began to worsen and, just after NappyRash had appeared in a forgotten corner of an unspecified forest (he had run here from his house in Caversham as part of his training programme) we heard a pattering noise. It had begun to rain. Fortunately, the leafy umbrella above protected us from the worst of it though several spots threatened my recorder. It was nothing compared with what was to come later.

On rare occasions that feeble-minded hack mentioned earlier manages to p*ss somebody off. And it seemed to have been so after last week’s pathetic, error-riddled pamphlet. As I trotted up to the small and delightful group made up of Donut, Skids and Heavy Petting I was subjected to a female haranguing the like of which a delicate soul such as I had rarely experienced before. I can only assume that, as overseer of this publication, I was singled out for verbal revenge. So flabbergasted was I by this oral assault that my normally sanguine verbosity failed me utterly and my lightning loqacious riposte consisted of a less than rapier-like, “Duh?” Just as Dunny tripped lightly past and, with a beaming smile, put in a final verbal boot that left me almost out for the count ready to chuck in the towel. The wise Knight knows the better part of valour and I slunk off rapidly to fight another day with the tinkling of lady-laughter ringing in my ears.

The Long Trail (and maybe the Short?) popped us out on the road just two hundred yards from the pub with the sky turning the colour of gunmetal. From here there was a Long Trail loop out into the bare field opposite or a warm-down along the road. The rain became heavier. Hmm. Choices. Choices. I was joined by Spot who showed me his bloodied forehead (running into barbed wire, poor chap. Couldn’t resist the picture I’m afraid). I felt it was my bounden duty to accompany the injured fellow back to the pub and he felt it the gentlemanly thing to do to allow me the privilege. What a sensible move this was. Those who had foolishly taken that last loop arrived later in pouring rain, looking like partially drowned rats wearing running kit. Florence even went so far as to show me her clinging (and wringing) wet T-shirt. A rare treat and one that I shall treasure for some time to come.

Many thanks to our Hares for a salubrious Trail and well done to Crusty-Toasty on his virgin effort.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Dumper presented the following :-

Well deserved and enjoyed

Up and Coming