Honeymonster Mafia Baldrick 2Bob Puddleduck Hashgate Iceman Glittertits Shyeena Soapy(but now renamed Muff – how delightful) Spot Wally Ms. Whiplash Salome Chopstix Lonely Arkle and Beaver the dog Dumper Septic Motox Caboose Cap’n Haystax Arnie Zebedee Florence PonyExpress BGB Cheating

Since there is absolutely fek all (thankyou Father Ted) on my clip art cd related to Morris Dancing I’m afraid you will have to put up with these two old gits staggering about. No doubt the only true Morris man in the Hash (BGB) could guess what terpsichorean endeavour they are about.

Today’s event was a celebration of the joint Birthday of Mafia and Honeymonster (perhaps there’s a link here with the term ‘two old gits’?) and we duly wished them a joyful one. They had pressganged asked Baldrick and Martin to assist as Hares and the resulting length of trail certainly warranted the use of a small army of them. There was a point during the race, oops, Hash when I called back Cloggs and Chopstix who had inadvertantly ignored a damn great big ‘F’ and were climbing a stile that would have had them back to the pub in no time at all. More fool me! I could have saved myself ½ inch of running shoe sole and six years off my life by following them. But to the start of the day. The Hares had found some red and white ‘men at work’ type plastic tape and cunningly fashioned it into Morris-style upper body adornments. Cloggs actually tried to ‘read’ the pattern of the staples holding the things together. Sad when the sight starts failing isn’t it? Each Hare wore white shirts and had bells tied below the knee. Baldrick had gone one step further and donned a pair of fetching beige slacks to go with his fetching beige loafers. Hmm. Wally arrived with cap and bells and more bells. Iceman had footbells and Pissquick looked exhausted, having gone several rounds with her cat earlier for its flea collar. Zebedee and Florence wore pristine white shirts and a Wimbledon beany hat. There was just the one – they shared it (no, not at the same time).

With no visitors to welcome we On outed, me showing off my local knowledge to Glittertits and Pissquick. "There’s a path over the cricket pitch that leads to a nice old church." I opined smugly. "Oh, is there?" Enquired Glittertis innocently. Then I found out they had lived around here for 17 years. Oh well, I was only trying to help. We all trotted up this narrow path led by 2Bob and Puddleduck. Septic was really getting into FRB mode and shouting ‘On on’ at each blob of flour. That is until the false was called ahead and we all turned back. It went generally very quiet. So we ran over to the Hares who were seated in the sunshine and Lonely and I followed the walkers down a lane. Rather nice it was. We chatted and called the two blobs from the check and… nothing. Iceman joined us and we hurtled half a mile down the damn lane before being called back by Baldrick muttering "There was definitely a check there." Of course there was, Baldrick. How could we doubt the veracity of your statement. It was quite a long way back to the check.

As we trolled along I couldn’t help feeling sorry for Beaver who has obviously been fed on a diet of figs, castor oil and senna pods for the last week by the well-meaning, no doubt, but misguided Lonely and Arkle. Every time I saw the poor beast he was heaving and straining, teeth bared in a desperate grin. By the time we finished this particular odyssey he was ten pounds lighter and had a belly like a whippet. Rather like Lonely after his 40-mile run the other week (though he didn’t have to stop for a mighty poo every five minutes).

Cloggs and I followed Zebedee along a dead flat, sunlit but windswept road across a field to the regroup just around the corner. What with the head-on gale, by the time we got there we were ten pounds lighter but still had that flabby appearance that we eschew. Talking of which, Cloggs and I had remarked earlier about Arkle’s svelte, suntanned appearance. "She’s had four children and is still lighter than I am; the bastard." Remarked my lady companion in a fit of pique.

Wally finally arrived so Honeymonster laid a short trail arrow pointing in the direction from which we had just come. The sensible ones (well done Pissquick and Shyeena) took this option. Sadly, we didn’t. However, we did get to see the regroup again after we returned from the massive loop of the Long Trail. There was a bar-5 at one point; the odd two way check (2Bob completely lost it here) etc. And, yes, we got ‘em all wrong. The best was a bar on the bridge over a thigh-deep stream. It looked quite refreshing so I waded in, fully expecting the rest of the pack to hurl themselves in, rat-like, after my Pied Piper. Not a bit of it! The buggers just strolled over the bridge, eying me disdainfully, like a bug under a microscope. As far as I know only Zebedee braved the swirling rapids though I’m sure Lonely must have done. Still, each must make their own choices in life – whether to plunge into the maelstrom or to tread warily around. Let’s ponder on that philosophical point for a moment…

OK. That’s enough. After a long, long time Zeb and I found ourselves atop a rock-hard mud hill with bits of green stuff trying to grow through. And we lost the trail. Caboose joined us. Arkle, Florence, BGB. In fact everybody. Including the mad Cheating! He provided Caboose and I the best moment of the day as he went completely berserk while Hashers roamed the hill, searching for flour. We were actually on the trail (though we didn’t know it) and we listened to his almost Hitleresque ravings in the wind. "Call yourselves bloody FRBs. Hharrpurrar. Phnarrr. No bloody calling. Shharsmk. Come on you bunch of shhppprahk. " It was absolutely hilarious and Caboose and I were rolling up laughing. Even more so when we found flour and deliberately attempted to call the On so Cheating couldn’t hear it. Happy times! This is what makes Hashing such fun.

Luckily we weren’t far from the end now (in more ways than one) and Zeb and I charged ahead (ok, staggered breathlessly). We came upon a peleton of brightly-clad, ancient cyclists who all rang their bells and smiled cheerily at us. This gave us the lift we need for the last big effort before hurtling downhill to the cricket club car park with its friendly, easy-going groundsman (this is ironic; he was a miserable sod). The Hares had obviously made a great effort laying this trail so we must thank them for all their hard work.

RA Motox presented the following :-