If you don’t want to get lumbered with writing future Bollox reports then make sure you avoid Clepto before the start of a BVH3 run. I normally turn up late anyway, but unluckily for me on this occasion I’d accepted a lift with Big Bollox who likes arriving early (as a result of too many years at sea with the Navy!). I then didn’t move quickly enough and suddenly found a notepad and pen thrust into my hand. Unfortunately, I can no longer see in the dark or write on the move, so that was all a bit of a waste of time. If you don’t like the end-product then I suggest you support my campaign for a full-time "truly professional" hash scribe (ie Bandit!).

So what of the venue? Andover has many great pubs, some of which we passed on the run. However, tonight’s run was a return visit to the Blacksmiths Arms. The alleged hares were Chicane and Bourne Liar, although I had doubts about Chicane – on the rare occasions that I saw him he was always standing still! Unacceptable rolled in from London for his first Bourne Valley, returning some sort of favour to Clepto. Heffer was found hiding in the bar, but deigned to join us for long enough to count the numbers – I think he must have been helping out in the kitchen.

Following the usual comprehensive briefing about the free buffet, 61 of us set off past the Merrie Monk at the usual rapid rate. Now there’s nothing like a bit of slap and tickle, but this time we found it hard to keep up with Slap & Tickle and his FRB friends, mainly from Wilton I understand. Flour was everywhere, on trees and bushes and some was even in the sky at night. Dyer Ere managed to catch us at the first re-group having finished posting his letter to Father Christmas, and on we went past the Wellington Arms. "She clasped me firmly to her bosom in Barlow’s Lane", said Torchkiller (she didn’t really mean it because she was playing around with someone else later!). I thought Chicane had done well to get a road named after his dog! Parcel Force was the most prominent flasher down the dark alleyways, and on we went to persistent bugle calls that bore a vague resemblance to the Last Post at one point – presumably that was what Dyer Ere had caught? We passed the Railway Tavern and (apparently) the last regroup without stopping, due naturally to the fact that we were following Ram.

On in to the pub, and the usual huddle between Clepto and Hoggy to discuss the down downs. Why do they always do it right outside the ladies toilet? M’Bongo was showing off his new Worthy Winchester rugby shirt (order through Warbler 01962 882908 – all sizes available). Careless Wrister was complaining about the lack of shiggy and FBI and Dyer Ere were bragging about how they got lost (someone told them to apparently!). Straddlevarious was wandering round trying to drop various people in it, as usual, and Mr Cuddles turned-up in fancy dress (he thought it was an office tramp party).

Tracey, the lovely barmaid from the pub, drew the winning football ticket, which strangely enough went to Mistress. No cries of "fix" however – keep buying the tickets Mistress! Hoggy (who can’t tell the difference between Araldite and Loctite) then gave the hares their just deserts, closely followed by a Vodka and Orange for Moscow Mule (she couldn’t hack it last month – see previous Bollox). Mark Cole from Wilton got a down down for an unusual experience with a shopping trolley, Mistress got one for shouting misleading instructions at Heffer, Annie for being a virgin (see earlier Ram reference), Unacceptable for sartorial elegance, and Licks for turning up late for something. Cheesewire got done for new shoes, Strad for 25 runs, and M’Bongo for being 30 (drunk from a rather awkward drinking vessel). Finally, the word Heffotism was born – a Heffer with BSE – which, it was noted, was the new look Fukawe (or was it new look Heffer?).

And finally finally, following Kate Adie’s sentiments last month, if ye olde Clepto comes anywhere near me with his quill pen next month then I’ll do more than tell him where to stick it!