Iceman Honeymonster Zebedee Florence StickyDicky Hamlet BGB Spot Foghorn Ms. Whiplash Baldrick BoPeep Eth Dolly Chuck Daisy Shep and dog Gnarler Mother Theresa Lemming Dribbler Cap’n Haystax The Tremblers Magic and daughter Gusset Butterfly Robert PissPoor Neighbour (is that a name or a description?) LeVoisin GBH Chopstix PartyAnimal Wycombe(?) Lofty Limprick(!) Lickem Cheating HeyBabe Potty Nutcracker NipponTuck Wally LiloGill(!) Condom Femidom

We have the kind assistance of Zebedee and Florence to thank for this week’s report. I was unable to be at the Hash as Motormouth and I were at the local Cubs and Scouts O.A.P.’s Christmas party. No, I wasn’t attending – I was helping. Sausage rolls, jelly, bingo, sherry and singalong. I was a little surprised not to see some of BH³ at the event, given the longevity of certain locally based Hashers.

But back to this Gobsheet. Rather like the last time I let Flo and Zeb loose with the dictaphone they obviously had left it on in the bedroom at some point since the first thing I hear is some giggling (male) and a voice (female) stating limply "I’m trying to make it work"! Fortunately we segue swiftly to the Hash where the bonny Flo sets the scene. "We’re at the Cricketers." She intones, stating the bleeding obvious…. "Whoa there!" castigates the angel on my right shoulder, "The poor lass is only trying to help." Followed immediately by the grating sneer of the devil on my left, "Garn. Give ‘er some stick." Very difficult this writing lark sometimes. Think I’ll try and be nice……maybe.

The Gather Round was obviously incredibly boring since Zeb doesn’t give it so much as a mention. Rather he On Out’s with all the dash of a whippet from trap one. Unlike most of the Hash, which mills listlessly on the green while Wally worries the locals by talking to them. Mind you it was nice to know that StickyDicky is back jogging. He and I are thinking of starting a BH³ elite sub-group, Hash Injured and Debilitated Elite Outstanding Unsung Sprinters…or HIDEOUS, for short. Mental injuries are not allowed so that bars Lemming and Wally from membership.

So the Hash bursts off towards the A4 but then gets called back to an oh-so-obvious footpath – which then leads back to the A4 via the Ring-O-Bells and on to the first check. Zeb gets to the front and admits on tape that he doesn’t know what is going on at the back of the pack and doesn’t really care. There you go, you see, typical FRB attitude. The pack is soon joined by a huge and ugly dog which immediately starts chatting up Hamlet’s dog, Jake. Zeb muses that he can’t imagine what the offspring of such a pairing might be; probably another Hamlet, he supposes. The South Reading MCC Three Musketeers trail looms large. This is an off-road event for 4x4s and trail bikes. Apparently, they like bacon sarnies. There is much water and shiggy on the trail which slightly sullied the psychedelic deck chair running trousers adorning the legs of Butterfly. Still, nice of Dribbler to let the old girl out for a while. We haven’t seen her for ages.

Much woodland ensues and Chuck (described as looking like a well stuffed turkey) is spotted a) walking(!) b) ‘boring the pants off some big American bloke’. Shep appears, attempting to mislead (quelle surprise) and GBH is also noticed back running. I guess his floppy dick disk problems are resolved. The dictaphone is then passed to the softer voiced Florence who spots Honeymonster falling A over T (no doubt the earth moved!), followed shortly by Eth who goes T over A. Much shiggy is generally available and Butterfly observes she is well and trully p****d off with it and would rather be at home listening to The Archers. Hmm. Ripe for a Down Down that one. The large American turns out to be Lickem (hope I’ve spelt that right) who is enjoying the extra height afforded by the mud on his trainers and believes fellow passengers on his later flight to Switzerland will appreciate the odour from them. Chopstix admits to stopping for a burger (should that be burgher) in the woods earlier and Dolly misses a check with the feeble excuse that the sun was in her eyes! GBH whispers in his soft, lilting Welsh accent "Typical crap, sh***y Berkshire trail". Always nice to be appreciated. Trust me. The more people rail against the trail the more they’re enjoying it. Foghorn has a Lemming and Daisy assisted mudbath while Chuck wades knee-deep in water. It seems the trail was generally very mucky, unless you were a walker. They sussed the drier route.

Florence blames her lack of interviews on being at the back of the pack and reasons this is because of either her heavy cold or old age, since she is even passed by Condom. Mind you this is immediately followed by a report of a conversation with PissPoor(?) and Condom, who are discussing farting. Apparently, PissPoor alleges there is a general standard of thirty farts per day, whereas Condom disputes this. Strange what people talk about on the Hash, isn’t it? Shortly after this the pack come across the Marlow Hash, who started at approximately the same time as BH³. The generous souls provide some beer, which is gratefully received by our inebriates, at Burchetts Green despite the good-natured haranguing about ruining the Marlow trail by running about on it.

RA BoPeep presented the following :-