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Becch Hill Village Hall


C5 (original Hare Dumper
having done a runner)
assisted by Mr Blobby

34th BH3 AGM Committee and Rabble

Twanky Blowjob Hashgate CabinBuoy Hamlet CrustyToasty Amanda and Pickle the dog Tiff Cheating Foghorn Simple Skids Mrs Blobby Mr Blobby C4 Dribbler Butterfly Snowballs Slippery Cerberus BillyBullshit Iceman LoudonTasteless Spex Shandyman Chopstix Potty Nutty Motox Caboose Swallow Slowsucker Bogbrush Fannybag Florence Zebedee Pissquick Gliiertits Poca and baby Finn Rampant Dunny TT2 SkinnyDipper Itsyor Shifty

Something of Nothing

Impossible to find? Well damn nearly. Beech Hill Village Hall may be a superb new building, clad in wood but it blends into the locale like a woodcock in the heather. Having driven past the crossroads I noticed Caboose wand’ring lonely as a cloud in the opposite direction. I turned round and drew up next to him. “Hello Caboose. Any idea where it is? Fancy a lift?” “No idea.” He replied. Adding, “Don’t need a lift thanks. It’ll be more hassle getting in and out.” I left him to it and turned left at the crossroads, enjoying ¼ of a mile of narrow country road before finding a place to turn round. I could see Caboose’s point. By the time I got back to the crossroads he was now alone and palely loit’ring (he was having a literary perambulation evening) and obviously perplexed. Only one way to go… and there it was, the Village Hall nestling among trees and tittering behind its hand at our confusion.

There was a certain urgency about the evening since we were all aware that darknesss would fall with the heaviness of a black velvet curtain in a very short time. C5, tonight’s Hare, addressed us advising caustically that Dumper, having kindly agreed to lay the Trail had “buggered off”, leaving him, C5, to pick up the pieces in an area known to be notoriously short of decent running tracks. Thus it was, after we On Outed, that we described a series of petal shapes, centred on that blasted crossroads. No sooner had we On Backed from a False than we approached it again from a slightly different direction to find either C5 or Mr Blobby stamping out the ‘F’ like a circus horse clopping its age in front of the crowd.

You have to hand it to the Hares for finding any Trail at all but we eventually got out into the countryside and bobbled about across a field of dry clods after Cerberus who seemed to have no problems placing her feet carefully along a thin wheeltrack approximately 5 centimetres wide. I put it down to slim hips and a dainty style as the rest of us lurched and slipped. I slid in behind her as we started on a long, long track leading back towards Beech Hill. C5 had mentioned earlier that the Trail was only about 3 miles long. This track must have been at least 2 of those. We ran, staggered, gasped, piched forwards, rocked and rolled along the blasted thing. Our glycogen stores dropped alarmingly. Babies were conceived and born. New species of wildlife evolved. It was, in short, long. C5 had kindly laid a wiggly loop through the wood at the end of it to give us a breather before we reached the Regroup. He panted up and told us we could either nip 400 yards one way to the Village Hall, or take a longer loop the other way. Dunny and Rampant streamed off towards the Hall like rats up a drain – rarely have I seen anyone run so fast.Just about everyone followed in their dust trail. Interesting, I thought, that people are so keen to get to the Annual General Meeting. C5 (with Mr Blobby’s help) had pulled it off – something out of nothing!


Love them or hate them BH3 holds one of these every year. They can be sloth-like to the point of ennui.Or steam-filled cauldrons of political intrigue, caustic haranguing and fist fights. We took our seats, waiting to see which way the pendulum would swing. The outgoing committee, to revel in its own importance and control proceedings, sat at tables across the floor to ceiling, windowed end of the hall while down either side sat the proles, supping their ale and waiting to see blood spilt. After a while, Simple, our outgoing GM, banged his gavel on the table to call the group to order. He banged it again, a little louder. And again, louder still. The table splintered and Spex’s herbal tea slid into the chasm. The Hash came to order.

Last year’s minutes were obviously a roaring success that were a 100% reflection of the event since no-one had made any comment when they were circulated via email. Motox would have sent his thoughts but couldn’t get his biro to write on the glass of his pc screen. The minutes were proposed and accepted in a much shorter time than the Leveson Inquiry. Spex rose and gave an inspired financial report as outgoing HashCash after a number of years. Sitting next to her I mused on the meaning of life, found the answer, forgot it and mused again. The acountancy drew to an end. 99% of the asembly now resembled extras in Shaun of The Dead… after the cricket bat work. But 1% raised a trembling finger and a point of order. Dribbler rose and, gentleman that he is, publicly thanked Spex for her sterling labours in the BH3 treasury. Glazed eyeballs re-humanised, hands were clapped together and tables were thumped in well-deserved approbation. Spex reddened, simpered and, I worried, might swoon. Worried because having an unconscious Spex face-down over my lap might cause my attention to wander during the important sections of the meeting. Luckily, she sat down and gulped a restorative draught of the ‘erbal tea (now replaced on the table wreckage). The outgoing GM report was then issued by Simple. You remember that bit earlier about the long track down which Cerberus and I staggered? Very similar effects but without the panting. Simple stood down to thunderous applause. Now that could be taken either of two ways. I’ll leave it up to you to decide which you wish to interpret. Honorary President Butterfly took over the meeting to read out the Committee nominations. There turned out to be exactly 1 nomination for each position. Apart from HashMash. C4, Fannybag and Cerberus, who along with helpers, have prepared and cleared away excellent food for us all felt obliged to nominate NoSole to take over their position(s). Though the nominations emanated the pungent odour of nepotism, favouritism and rampant personal advancement no-one in the public gallery seemed to mind.and, by the end of the meeting, only two important points had been raised. By Slowsucker and by Cheating. Read the minutes or ask the Hon Sex to tell you what they were. With grateful thanks to the outgoing Committee we fell upon the excellent food laid on by the above triumvirate. Delicious. AGMs aren’t too bad after all

So here are the members of the new Committee.





Ms Whiplash

Wasn’t at the meeting and couldn’t object

Hon. Sex


Nepotism. Nominated by Shandyman

Hash Ents


A natural. Who could do it better?

Religious Advisor


Lord help us. What have we done…



Railroaded I expect

Membership and Tick

Whinge & TC

Agreed to continue making a Hash of it

Hare Raiser


If you won’t lay a Trail his wife will poison you

Hash Cash


Took some Dutch courage to agree to this



Nominated by Iceman (thought he was my friend)



Nominated by Hashgate (gotcha back)



Kingdom building – R2D2 and BH3



From riches to rags

Thank you to all who will serve on the new committee. Here’s to another successful BH3 Hashing year.

On On. Hashgate.

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Plough
Silchester Road, 
Little London, 
Tadley, Hants RG26 5EP
Please park on roadside towards Silchester

Dwight, Becky