Berkshire Hash House Harriers 



Run Number:

1839 17Feb13


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The Rose, King Street


Booby, Zebedee


Nappyrash HP Diver Treacle Donut Hashgate C5 Bogbrush SkinnyDipper Motox Iceman BlindPew RandyMandy Whinge TC Shitfor Desperate Mother Theresa Lemming Mark Angella Shifty Glittertits Pissquick Swallow Slowsucker Shandyman Chopstix Snowballs BillyBullshit TT2 Katherine Jarvis the dog (he’s a cocker – geddit!) Mark Dunny Rampant Foghorn Slapper NoSole Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Debbie Twanky Blowjob Florence

The Red Dress Run

Firstly, a heartfelt thanks to Bogbrush and Billy who kindly wrote Gobsheets 1836, 1837 and 1838. Fascinating reads both, and in their own styles. Reading them is rather like listening to each talk. They have their own descriptive methods and, in Billy’s case an idiosyncratic approach to spelling and table handling. It was interesting that the Down Downs table was completed with some details in it… and other details above it J However, since they don’t write the Gobsheet regularly they did a sterling job. Not easy to get all the Hashers’ names and the Down Down recipients and write an amusing tract. Thanks gentlemen.

I have been in India for the past few weeks, not running, enjoying sunshine and temperatures of 37 or so degrees and immersed in work so it was quite a culture shock to return to a temperature of around 1 degree and a (initially misty) Trail of around 8 or 9 miles in the company of a rouched and primped cluster of BH3 transvestites round the urban spaghetti that is Maidenhead.

Slapper actually looked worse than this

Slapper (rather appropriately) probably takes the Red Dress Award For Most Horrendous Old Tart this year. He has quite a manly face and this was framed by the hair of a long blonde wig. An even longer red dress encased his manly body, his chest hair peeping out shyly from the muscly décolletage. A tie for second between C5, who minced in strappy top, harem pants and bobbed blonde wig – or had he just dyed his own tresses? – and Twanky, a,shall we say, chunky lad who looked rather like a sausage about to burst out of its skin.

By contrast, SkinnyDipper looked perfectly gorgeous with a rather nice frock, covered at the front with flowery swirls, lacy, calf-length red tights and a racy tam-o-shanter.

Quite what the good burghers of Maidenhead made of us is not entirely clear but, as we On Outed from the pub (nicely decked out inside with red feather boas and little paper hearts stuck to the windows) there were more than a few smiles. Curious, actually, the contrast in attitudes. Most people, especially parents and kids, waved, laughed, took pictures with their mobiles, commented how nice our dresses were. Others, generally lone males, either affected selective visual issues that stopped them from seeing anyone (particularly blokes) wearing red, or trudged resolutely past us with faces as blank as a whiteboard, secretly wishing they too had the bottle to ponce around the town in gay (old meaning) attire. The most eager fan was the security guard outside the municipal building who absolutely insisted on having his photo taken in the middle of our group. This was one of a series of Regroups, a useful Hare ploy to ensure no-one dropped off the back of the Pack and got arrested by the local bluebottles. This particular Regroup was outside the display of local football team, The Magpies, black and white strip and memorabilia, which interested greatly Shitfor and C5 who are (the) Fulham fans

The Hares were leading us a twisting, turning Trail with pink flour and Checks in the shape of Valentine’s Day hearts (nice touch). They added a further twist by leading us alongside a swollen stream next to a car park. Now there were two points of interest as we tripped lightly along the track in our organza and chiffon. The first was the fascinating concrete base of said car park; a more interesting grey than an elephant’s bottom. The second was the two tunnels under roads where the track was ankle-deep in smelly water. We plunged onward without hesitation, Florence surging through like a mermaid in trainers (with feet, though). Of course, congratulating ourselves on our hardiness and FRB status was bound to end in disaster. The Bar-5 was just after the second slipper bath. Which we slipped back through, the long dead bodies of the rats stirring soupily beneath our feet the occasional bubble of gas belching to the surface from something rotten that was anchored below the surface.

Ada Lewis MemorialSlightly cleaner water was to be found at the river, where the sun came out and we delighted at the sight of the Ada Lewis (a philanthropic lady from the past) fountain, a Victorian stone confection in full working condition with a variety of sprays that reminded HP rather forcefully that it might be time for a bio break. Here is a picture of this delightful edifice. The effect was somewhat spoiled when Slapper and C5 decided to swap some of their ladies attire at the river bank – not a pretty sight.

We were beginning to realise just how much tarmac our legs had covered and running even further away along the river was not quite what we were expecting. However, the Hares had provided another delightful opportunity for us by leading the tranny Pack round the children’s playground in Riverside Gardens. Slapper frightened and appalled some young teenagers by sliding along their zipwire, frock floating ever thighwards. We got out of there rather quickly and continued our tarmac slog.

At least we had started to go back towards the town but there was a long way to go yet. We did actually manage to find one field to cross. And cross again since we struggled to find the Trail. It was a jubilant Whinge who cracked the secret and disappeared rapidly out of the far corner. A group of us followed Donut (who has local knowledge) and we found ourselves somehow coing In on the Out Trail. Not that we minded. As we passed a little playground with Chopstix, Shandyman and Swallow one of the children asked, “Why are there lots of ladies, mum?” As Chopstix said, some kids are really quite sweet. Thank goodness the pub was but a step away and we gratefully converged upon it to greet a number of hairy-arsed Hashers in frocks who were quaffing pints of beer J

Great fun Booby and Zeb. Thanks for an excellent Red Dress Run.

On On.  Hashgate.

Down Downs

Shitfor presented the following, with inevitable sensibility:-

Who Got It

Why and How They Did


A twee ½ for driving erratically into the car park


Spotting a blob of flour that appeared to her “like a willy”


Jumped on Shitfor’s back to avoid the flodded path.


Sporting gigantic bosoms. He’d taken ‘em off by now.


Unable to recognise a gate. He was sitting on it.

Peggy the landlady

For being a good sport and providing food. Nominated Desperate who quaffed it in one.


Swaping clothes with Swallow half way round. They shared a ½ with straws.

Zebedee, Booby

Our lovely Hares finished together.

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Hare & Hounds
Woodland Road, 
Sonning Common RG4 9FE





Joint Run with North Hants Hash
The Waggon & Horses 
High St,
Hartley Wintney RG27 8NY

Shandyman’s birthday run