BH3 Gobsheet

Berkshire Hash House Harriers

Run Number:	1868 09Sep13	Visit the website – http://www.berkshirehash.co.uk Website Email – iceman@berkshirehash.co.uk
Venue:	Frilsham Village Hall
Hares:	Chopstix, Spex

Delegates

Dribbler Butterfly Donut Hashgate Itsyor Motox Iceman Dwight Scoot Soreskin Lara NoSole Slapper Centaur Whinge TC Shitfor Desperate Potty Nutty Dunny RampantRabbit Slowsucker Swallow LoudonTasteless Simple Skids Dumper OldDog SkinnyDipper C5 Spot Bogbrush Fannybag NoStyle ChocChuck Hotlips Utopia Twanky Blowjob Booby Snowballs Mr Blobby and dog Minx Mrs Blobby Shandyman Ms Whiplash Karen Wendy Julie Becky ChickenHead Messenger Boy Uplift … and very much later, Florence and Zebedee J

BH³ AGM Hash

BH³ is not a political organisation. In fact, organisation is probably the wrong descriptor for the loose collection of n’er do wells that labour under the misguided label of ‘committee’, a word defined as a group of people officially delegated to perform a function or to deliberate on one or more questions with the remit to provide solutions, reports, or recommendations. Sounds political to me. Particularly since the members of the committee are proposed and elected during an annual general meeting, such as the one that was to be held tonight. Like members of the cabinet prior to a reshuffle secret meetings had been held in ante rooms (is an ante room a room that isn’t really there? Like anti matter?), palms had been greased in toilets (hmm, could have put that better), whispering parties had looked over shoulders with foxy eyes, blackballs had been fondled in pockets (I really must work on my descriptive skills), stillettos had been thoughtfully honed in darkened rooms. So though BH³ is neither political nor an organisation, tonight… it was.

But first we had to have our Hash, with a Trail laid by two of our ladies: Chopstix and Spex, who, apart from having to keep up standards had to get everyone back before the countryside was plunged into darkness and in time for the AGM which was to be followed by supper. The evening didn’t start too well since water main replacement work locally meant there was no running water in the village hall.A lady, presumably the caretaker, came scurrying up through the car park with a sheepish smile and a bucket of water for the toilets. Fine lady. But our Hares had laid an inestimably good Trail (or so Chopstix told us at the Gather Round) and we were as keen as them to get on with it so we On Outed with alacrity and beetled off straight into the forest.

No other way to put it really. Mayhem ensued. We kept finding the walkers in front of us. We backtracked a number of times. Whinge buggered off up a hill following a non-existent Trail and calling “On On” with Shitfor, TC and me following until we were called back. Not that that stopped Whinge who blundered on for some distance before turning back, running like a lunatic to catch up, claiming not to have heard the call to return.

We skittered across a highly uneven field, watched inquisitively by a couple of alpaca (Vicugna pacos for the learnéd amongst us) and a small group of what Scoot advised me later were cows but that was actually a small group of very woolly brown and white sheep. Alpaca are a curious, gangly shape and I have to say they fitted in rather well with certain of our Hashers who exhibit the same qualities.

The forest, after this field, began to slope ever upwards and on finally reaching the top in a breathless, heart-racing condition and seeing a sign that read ‘Forest Operations’ I wondered where one might make an appointment. Since there was no-one around except young Donut I thought it best to place myself in her tender care and we sauntered onwards through the damp woodland, wondering where everyone else was. Fortunately, NoStyle turned up and the three of us lost the Trail for a while before trotting over to The Pot Kiln. By this time Spex had appeared, leading a small group that included Dribbler and Butterfly. We watched her take them to the foot of the hill down the road so streamed down to meet them… then streamed back up again when it became obvious that she had led them in the wrong direction. At the pub (again) we met a couple of friendly chaps who informed us that, up the steep hill behind the pub were a lot of flour blobs and a sign that read ‘On Inn’. We gave them our heartfelt thanks and, in the deepening gloom, sped (is that the right word?) up the hill and on to the village hall.

Nice Trail ladies. Many thanks.

The AGM

Now it has happened in the past that this meeting takes on the qualities of the last shareholders meeting at Lehman Brothers after the ‘cupboard is bare’ announcement. Barking can erupt from the floor. A tomato may describe a graceful arc through the air. Braying, snorting and harumphing take the place of reasoned debate and principaled discussion. But not tonight. For three reasons: 1) the hall was small and cosy with heaters on 2) the throng of Hashers had seen the supper to be had after the meeting and were hungry for quiche and Branston pickle, rather than blood 3) Shandyman had sewn the event up into a neat bundle that provoked very little dissent. Oh yes, and Hash Cash SkinnyDipper was presenting the accounts. Rather than providing the floor with a mass of figures and spreadsheets that could be picked over like a juicy, week-old water buffalo carcass by hungry vultures a ½ A4 sheet offered pared-down, salient financial facts that a two year old could understand. Not that this stopped Dribbler from raising a point of order query. SkinnyDipper fixed him with a 1,000 lux glare and snapped, “I’m trying to tell you if you’ll listen!” A roar of approval and applause such as might be heard in the Colosseum when an attractive lionesss pounced on a highly unattractive Christian rent the air and Dribbler sank to his seat, a man knowing when it’s time to button the beak. SkinnyDipper finished her figures, fixed the room with a gimlet stare and asked for questions. There was a shuffling of feet and an averting of eyes. With a tacit, “Very well then.” SkinnyDipper sat, a job well done and the hint of a smile curling her lips.

Shandyman announced that since all Committee members had agreed to continue in their rôles there would be no requirement to elect replacements and that Booby had agreed to assist Twanky in his Hash Ents job. You’ll no doubt see the list of Committee positions below.

Shandyman, seeing that an increasing number of our members were increasingly eyeing the food, wisely wound up the proceedings to a ripple of applause and a thunder of chairs and feet as BH³ collectively stampeded for the supper.

A word to thank the Committee members for their voluntary work on behalf of our group. The touch is light and successful and we enjoy a variety of events. Well done, all!

The Committee Members

Position	Person	Scurrilous Comments
Dogsbody	Ms Whiplash	A less than polite title for a genteel lady.
Hon. Sex	Chopstix	Rank nepotism by the GM, her husband.
Hash Ents	Twanky	A gent in his element.
Hash Ents Bitch	Booby	Looking forward to his new position below Twanky…
Religious Advisor	Shitfor	Oh Lord! Can we bear another year of this?
HashMash	NoSole	A whipper-up of wondrous gastronomic confections (rumours of a Michelin star are rife).
Membership and Tick	Whinge & TC	They are 100% effective and, no, you don’t want to owe them money. Brrrr.
Hare Raiser	Slapper	The lad performs his rôle with brio and aplomb.
Hash Cash	SkinnyDipper	Jacob Marley would have doffed his stovepipe in admiration.
Scribe	Hashgate	Continues in the finest gutter-press tradition.
Webmaster	Iceman	Has managed to (just) keep the website off the parental controls blacklist
GM	Shandyman	Emulates Kim Jong-un in management style but not his haircut.
Haberdash	Spex	May we have a wet T-shirt competition?

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

Despite apparently breaking with convention (according to Iceman and Simple) Shitfor deployed the following:-

Who Got It	Why and How They Did
Iceman, Simple	For telling Shitfor he couldn’t do Down Dowwns at the AGM
Bogbrush, Fannybag	For showing off their brand new Volvo
Dumper, OldDog	For becoming engaged – all our best wishes to them!
LoudonTastless	His birthday. He was likened to a badger for his hair and eyebrows and advised by Slowsucker not to visit Gloucestershire in case he was culled.
Lara	Seen cartwheeling across the grass. Was encouraged to do one here and did so most successfully. Dribbler had to have a drink of water since he went rather red in the face.
Mr Blobby	For his master/dog relationship with Minx and the fact that he isn’t sure which is which.
Spex, Chopstix	Tonight’s Hares. Spex was more than a tad slower with her drink…

Up and Coming