Mr. Blobby Mrs. Blobby Utopia Spot Hashgate Motormouth HairyMary Tacky Nic Larry Baldrick Richard Chopstix HeyBabe Gusset Mike Amanda Nutcracker Hamlet Potty Mike Jenny Spex BGB Miranda TinOpener Hans the dog Richard Skids (I’m being kind in not using her full cognomen!) Iceman PonyExpress Judy Steamer Cheating Cap’n Y-Fronts David Jonathon Ben TT2 Zebedee Florence Cap’n Haystax Eth Ms. Whiplash Salome Madeleine Chris Lesley Spunky Blowjob Dwight Shamcock Greenfly Brian BGB SSTI Centaur HoneyMonster Butterfly Dribbler BoPeep Septic Dumper (nice to see you back, Derek) Karen Simon Dominic Carlton Wally Flash AuntySqueaky FannySniffer MotherofLittleEinstein David Lynda Philippa Roy Foghorn and last but not least…C5

A truly massive collection of motley Hashers turned up in the pub car park and not even an inflammatory, yet somehow pathetic, warmup by Spex and Skids failed to dampen the party air. It seemed as though nothing could go wrong as the newcomers were welcomed and Mr. Blobby told us how wonderful it was all going to be. Oh, dear! Sadly, the Hares had forgotten the first rule of Hashing at this venue. We always have the On Inn back over the park and through the hedge. This time it was the On Out! Various Hashers wailed and moaned, seeking out sackcloth and ashes and bearing ‘The End of the World is Nigh!’ posters. But it was all to no avail. The ever-pleasant Mr. Blobby would have none of it and through the hedge we went. There was a bit of to-ing and fro-ing as we sniffed out the trail. Then the clarion call of a Foghorn in full flight reached our ears and we were off like rats up drainpipes (if you’ll pardon me ladies). But, of course, this did not last long and there was much milling and chatting in a small estate much to the delight of an old couple and their dog who leaned over their balcony to gaze on the largest collection of multi-coloured indecision-makers they had ever seen. Hamlet, who seems to have taken to smearing himself with marmite, from the colour of his skin, announced that ‘It can’t possibly go that way’ just as Nic shouted ‘On On’ from that very direction. This caused Florence, Motormouth and I much glee at Hamlet’s expense but the hooting and pointing turned to blushing embarrassment as Hamlet returned from Nic’s faux pas…so we hooted and pointed at Nic instead. Let’s face it; it’s much easier to take the p**s than check it out, isn’t it?

Shortly afterwards we entered that excellent wood. Loadsarunning around here. It’s a superb area. So we did. Loadsarunning that is – despite Motormouth’s requirement for a comfort break in the bushes. A novel bit of signage began to creep in to the Hares’ trail. Well drawn arrows pointed off roads to small, neatly drawn checks. No doubt in deference to an EU Hash directive on road safety. Bearing in mind that Squelchy and Gusset had almost been run over earlier while they chatted on and on in the middle of a road, it seems like a good idea. Some of the SCB’s (Short Cutting…you can work out the rest yourselves) split off and the rest of us followed the Foghorn, who seemed to be having a particularly good day. Some of us weren’t. I trotted back after checking an apparently flourless trail only to find BoPeep thundering past me, horns lowered, red of eye, tackle swinging, muttering ‘It’s got to go this way’. Where had I heard that before, I thought sanctimoniously. Then cringed as I heard his bellowed ‘On On’. I Baaa’d meekly and followed the master.

At one of those quaint, arrowed off the road, 2-way checks I arrived just as Dwight and Cheating checked off one way and Greenfly and BoPeep the other. It was a pleasant evening, the sun low, the air warm, so I let ‘em get on with it. After all, BoPeep couldn’t be right again and one should never follow Cheating…and anyway, the Scribe has to record his musings on the trail so far. Can’t for the life of me remember who got it right. However, it turned into a bit of a cruise that stretched us out. Mike (our latest new joiner) streamed along like a well polished eel. Carlton (see Down Downs) ambled along like an arthritic carthorse. Spunky and Centaur did a fair impression of an FRB. Tacky staggered along; a raddled shade of her youthful persona. Too much booze, fags and food, she agreed wheezingly. Hamlet appalled us all by a) appearing suddenly from the woods after hosing down various fauna lying quivering ‘neath not dense enough foliage, and b) whipping his shirt off to reveal aforementioned Marmite torso. FannySniffer (what an appalling nickname!) and Potty got caught by a false. PonyExpress mentioned that Buffalo has returned to the North. Better grazing no doubt. And then we hit the regroup. Mr. Blobby took a leaf out of Cheating’s manual of self-congratulation and praised himself warmly on a job well done (I think he mentioned the other Hares). Shamcock said he would shortly be Hashing with the Molobo H³ based in Equatorial Guinea – lucky bleeder! Madeleine arrived, announcing that she thought she would be sick. What a fine young athlete.

Short and long then split off. Since I had a) been lunchtime circuit training and b) donated blood earlier I took the short with Motormouth. Well, this was not as easy as it might have seemed. Mr. Blobby and Septic had decided to try and get everyone lost. The Blob called after me ‘Hashgate. There’s a log on the trail. Just turn right and follow the blobs’. Thanks, I thought. The ‘log’ turned out to be an old, upright wooden post (which I missed) but Septic found and duly called all the others who had gone off left, back for an aimless meander in the flourless woods. Having realised the trail did actually go left she then ran off down it shouting ‘On On’ with more brass neck than a fireman’s helmet! At the bottom of the bosky (that word again, Greenfly) hill was a filthy piece of shiggy and Madeleine delighted us all by plopping a leg into it’s sticky clutches. Curiously enough, new lady Lesley sped lightly across the top of it and confided to me with a wink and a leer that ‘I like a bit of squidge’. Something tells me she’s going to make a good Hasher. Not far to the pub now and apart from Spex offering to show me her scars (ooer missis!) the On Inn was pleasant and uneventful.

BoPeep officiated splendidly as RA, awarding the following :-

2-3 September - Guildford 777th weekend. At Holmby St. Mary near Guildford. £4 for just the run. £34 for everything, T-shirt, beer, accomodation (camping or youth hostel). Contact Hamlet on 07818-422191 for details.