Attendance 74

The run started across the playing fields in the village and it resembled a pitch invasion at Hartlepool – about the same number of people but probably a bit madder (although I would have thought that anyone who watched Hartlepool must be a bit mad). Clepto and Big Bollox got fed up and joined in a game of football with some bemused residents until someone found the trail and they resumed their interest in the proceedings.

The trail took us round the village and across the stream with Shep guarding the bar check across the bridge. Even then some people were ingenious and energetic enough to find a way round it and it was just as well that Cunning Lingus was one of them or his shoes would have fallen apart. (I keep asking the Berkshire Hash for contributions so he can buy himself a new pair but, funnily enough, over the last two years I’ve only managed to collect 35p). Clepto’s shoes were also dry but he claimed that was because he walked on water. (By the way, what was that garment he was wearing, that revealed rather too much of his naked torso? It came from the Far East so Fruit 'n' Nut called it his ‘Singapore Sling’). Talking of Fruit 'n' Nut, he was complaining that his horn got wet crossing the stream. Considering that it was only about three inches deep I’ll leave it to your imagination as to how he crossed it!

On up a hill, during which I was assailed by Warbler and Hampshire Man trying to flog entries to UK Nash Hash 2001. I missed the £70 offer at Nash Hash (no-one would lend me sufficient dosh and I was broke by the Monday morning except for a bit of plastic – why didn’t they accept credit cards?) so they thought they would play on my meanness so I wouldn’t miss out on the £80 offer until the end of November. They were right – Warbler now has my form and £80. Have you signed up yet?

Mind you, what with 2001 and then GBH with 2002 I need to get my life organised! I usually don’t know what I’m supposed to do next week, let alone in two and three years’ time! Anyone got a five year diary they don’t want?

At the top of the hill we emerged into the same field we all got lost in the last time we ran from ‘The George’. I mentioned this to Heffer who said he’d been running on a parallel track on that occasion. Funny that, I always thought Heffer was in a parallel universe! We found a re-group in the field and Fill the Farmer told us that the flour went across the field, not round it so we had to spread out and find it. Another pitch invasion or, as Sex Slave described it, ‘synchronised mayhem’ ensued while we all ran around like headless chickens (all except M’bongo who thought he would do the clever thing and seek it out from on high – so he climbed the hay bales and imagined he was a look out. He was as much use as an ash tray on a motor bike!)

We eventually made it to a second re-group (after I had followed a long down-hill false – I’ll never learn!) where everyone was looking suitably knackered. Hoggy revealed a massive bruise on his thigh where he had been banging the tambourine during his Blues Brothers cabaret at Nash Hash. Talk about masochism, but if it’s for his art you can understand it. I think he should be re-named ‘Tambourine Man’!

He also noticed that the Hashyclava was missing. Of course, Bluebell of the Wood got it last time and she’s in New Zealand. It’s a bit extreme, disappearing to the other side of the world, just to avoid wearing the Hashyclava. She won’t escape, though!

On On up a steep field and it was here that it was revealed that Fill the Farmer had laid the trail on his quad bike! No wonder it was over all that horrible ankle twisting stuff. What about Tigger, though, was she riding pillion or what? I’m sure laying trails on a quad bike is contrary to Section 6 sub-section 4b of the Rule Book.

We eventually got to the other side of all these quad bike laid fields to another re-group. Here, the short-cutters got assigned the easy way home whilst the ‘long cutters’ (to quote Fill the Farmer – can you have a long cut?) went our own merry way up and down more hills. At the top of one particularly long one Dick Head was heard to say, ‘Only three Hash days to Christmas’! Sad person.

At the top of the next mountain the trail turned left past a barn and cut across another field. Except that Cycological and I checked it out straight on and that was the last we saw of the trail until we got back to the pub after a two mile road run! Why didn’t anyone call us back? I’ve got a complex already, I’ll really start getting paranoid if my fellow hashers keep letting me get lost! So, Bourne Valley Bollox to the lot of you!

Fresh from his summer season in the Trossachs, Hoggy was RA and awarded the following harriers and harriets a quaff of his finest ale:

Tigger and Fill the Farmer for being hares – even on quad bikes.

Stan – for rogering one of the many dogs on the run.

Kate Adie – for being about the only person on the hash without a dog – until he remembered it.

Shrinky Dink – for having old new shoes.

Mr Cuddles – for being a mean B’.

Howard Hughes – for being Howard Hughes.

Parcel Force and Torch Killer - for doing things that harriets do.

Glasshoppa (Lou King) - who was given one, no, I mean she was handled, no, I mean she was christened, er, with a new handle -‘Glasshoppa’ You have to pronounce it with a Japanese accent! (Ed - She will still be ‘Peeps’ to me - What do you mean you don’t get it - Lou King :- ‘Looking’ :- and someone who is looking is a ‘Peeping Tom’ :- and she has got nice ‘Peepers’ :- ‘Peeps’ for short! ....It’s obvious aint it!)

...and finally Clepto – for being the daft B’ who wanted some daft B’ to drink out of the wierd looking new drinking vessel specially designed for daft B’s. (1.7 pint piss pot - Ed)

On On C5

PS - Clepto wants to know who hit him on the head ‘cause it was very sore the next morning.

PPS - Whilst he does appreciate it, it is not compulsory for every hasher to offer to buy Clepto a pint of guinness on every BVH3 run night - being a Scotsman (and a daft B’) he finds it very difficult to refuse.

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