Ms. Whiplash Eth BoPeep Spex Chopstix Florence Cheating 2Bob Puddleduck HoneyAnt Iceman C5 Sue5 Cheryl Foghorn Dumper Honeymonster Baldrick Lemming MotherTheresa Spot Paella Buffallo Cap’n Haystax Tacky Miranda Bomber Cocoa(Chanel?) Lonely and Beaver Wetnurse Spunky Centaur Dave TinOpener StickyDicky GulabJaMoon Mr. Blobby Mrs. Blobby Brian Neil(a.k.a. Mr. Therm!) LordLucan Smurf Cloggs The Tremblers Hamlet and Jake LeVoisin TwinCam and Georgina Skydiver Cyclogical Greenfly Flash Whinge Dee (noted starting her running timer – how sad)

Appropriately enough for Bonfire Night the Hash was made up largely of old guys who looked like a bit of gunpowder on their plot might do ‘em some good. In fact, Florence had ditched her old guy, Zebedee, in favour of a well stuffed one with curious lumps in his trousers who sat surprised but quiescent in the passenger seat of her car. Apparently, this one doesn’t talk back or insist on wearing her underwear on the Red Dress Run. Paella turned up with Buffalo and showed us she had joined the HeyBabe school of car parking. Her dreadfully weak explanation (and excuse for double entendre) was that "I don’t like going in forwards". Can’t say it’s ever bothered me madam – boom,boom! Bomber turned up with a delightful bit of French crumpet jeune fille de France who promptly introduced herself as Cocoa. Something to curl up in bed with on a cold winter’s night, my old granny always used to say…

Now the day was cold, damp and windy. Tacky (delightful lass; bought me a pint later) and C5 were bouncing about trying to warm up. Dumper was off having a whizzer behind the inadequate fence and Sue5 was chatting to me so I was lucky enough to miss the GM at the gather round. Everyone trooped off in the same direction – apart from 2Bob and the sadly misled Puddleduck (you’ve got to keep your old Dad company, haven’t you?). Followed much later by Greenfly (leaves on the road), TwinCam, Cyclogical and Skydiver (leave it too late), Whinge and Dee (leave it out) and Flash (taken leave of his senses) who staggered off like he’d just been attacked by a bear.

Now Spot buggered his chances of getting any future mental illness health insurance by volunteering (yes, volunteering!) to take round the old dictaphone. I whipped it over to him smartish before he changed his mind and melted into the crowd. Now read on…

Mr. Blobby, of all people, started the water fight very early on in the trail. Joined shortly in the juvenile department by C5 and Lemming just before a long false where the Hares had to virtually tell the pack where to go. Let ‘em find out you Hares. It’ll do ‘em good. The Yacht Club hove into view and long, puddle-strewn paths follow. It’s too good an opportunity to miss and everyone sets about soaking everyone else. After a sojourn around Garston lock at Theale Spot finally catches up with TwinCam and Georgina, who seems to have grown quite a lot since her Rosie and Jim days! Beaver revels in the smell and feel of the wet grass and mud as, it seems, does most of the pack. Luckily they’re not hairy and naked, with a long tongue and a penchant for chasing ducks….although that could apply to a few.

Foghorn exhorts the pack, with a vocal projection that can be heard in Greenland, to tread softly lest the nearby deer are disturbed. I believe two of the creatures were seen today, still running, near Doncaster. Spot then executes one of those parts of these guest tapes that are a delight to hear. Making his way through a wood with a steep camber, Spot slips and, amidst the sound of crashing bushes, an Oscar Wilde-like "Oo shit!" drops from his sensitive lips. You chaps have got to stop it. One day I’ll have a heart attack from laughing so much.

The trail winds around, amazingly avoiding a marsh (perhaps too damp for the Hares dainty tootsies?) and Baldrick is noted flobbing for the second or possibly third time during the run. No doubt (like the canny Scot he is) his motto is "You’ve got to expectorate to accumulate". The trail splits into long and short, either side of the canal and wends its way to the weir, where Spot very kindly gives me five minutes of rushing water noise just to make sure I know what a weir is. I guess I would have got more water noise if the pack had been brave/foolhardy enough to swim the canal where BoPeep had laid a crafty blob. But they didn’t, so I was just left to imagine it. Shortly after this Iceman (who knows the area well) states there is another four miles to go. Probably more, by the sound of it, since the trail is lost until found again by a lucky happenstance. Spot is evidently losing it by this point as he has to ask Whinge (I mean! Everybody knows Whinge!) his name in order that he can make a comment about too much road and why can’t he have a car to drive back on it. Lemming drenches Lonely with the contents of a horse trough, then is joined by Cloggs for a bit of mud kicking. Children, children! However, Cloggs puts the boot in even more later when she punts the carcass of a dead hare (no, not a BH³ one) at poor Spot who just manages to leap out of the way.

Mr. Blobby intones that "It’s bloody long". Presumably the trail? C5’s comment is "Crap". Whether this is a request or a comment, I know not. Cocoa says something unintelligible that sounds very nice in a French accent. Flash breathes heavily. Chopstix is "knackered". Mother Theresa, "I enjoyed it immensely". I believe she is speaking of the trail. In the pub poor, cold Neil orders a mincy coffee to warm his little cockles; Baldrick gives me a start by looming up at my elbow and grinning; the lovely, vivacious, attractive Tacky buys me a pint; Greenfly turns into a Barfly and we all have a bloody good time!

A wind-challenged C5 presented the following :-