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Run Number: |
1275 29/04/02 |
Visit the
website – http://www.bhhh.freeserve.co.uk
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Venue: |
Military Museum |
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Hares: |
Chuck n’Cheating |
Camp Followers
Chuck Cheating The Tremblers Hashgate 2Bob Baldrick BGB Motox Uptake Honeymonster C5 Simon Chopstix Foghorn Spot Mr. Blobby Mrs. Blobby Utopia OldFart LeVoisin Glittertits Pissquick SlipperyNipple Iceman Wally Tweenie Fiona Michael Itsyor Lonely and Beaver the dog
Misled, Misdirected, Misinformed
We should have known, I suppose. It’s called the Cheating effect. This is very similar to the Catastrophe Theory whereby something is going along superbly well only to change direction entirely and confuse the crap out of participants and onlookers alike. So it was with the advertised Hash. Out of the myriad, seething throng of Guildford Hashers expected to join us on this jaunt only CommercialWhale turned up – and he’s from North Hants. Thus, Fruit n’Nut was not a Hare. In addition the expected Thai meal after the Hash did not seem to have been (shall we say) entirely organised. Also, the trail had not been recce’d before laying so there were one or two interesting bits such as a bar-3 almost next to a check. However, this sort of thing gave us great pleasure when slagging off the Hares so I shan’t complain too much. Cheating gave us a fine moment of merriment during the Gather Round when he advised us towards the end of the trail to ‘head for the Pole’. Only problem was, he didn’t say which one.
This being a military Hash we were looking for a ‘Mayjah’ or a ‘Brigadeah’ to lead us confidently into the wilderness. Unfortunately, we had only Tweenie (Catering Corps, ret’d) and he had even less of a clue than we did. However, he did have a bugle. So he blew upon it. It didn’t help us but he felt better for it. Unlike several woodland creatures who scuttled deep into nearby holes to lay quivering, in the belief that at least one Horseman of the Apocalypse was on the look out for a furry lunch. An early flanking movement by Iceman, Tweenie, Mr. Blobby and myself merely outflanked ourselves. What a bunch of flankers we felt as we ran back past the rest of the pack, hearing Utopia utter to Mrs. Blobby the words that should be imprinted on every Hasher’s soul: “That’s it. I’m knackered.”
Now I shan’t take you through every check and along every path but I’ll pick out the bits that I enjoyed the most. (10 minutes later) No good; I can’t think of any so I’ll just tell you about some of the stuff I saw. There was quite a lot of un-military discipline with people running about all over the place shouting ‘On Back’, ‘On On’, ‘Help’, Mummy’ etc. This meant we saw a good deal of the Hares who, despite making a pretence of being oh-so-helpful were actually gloating and sniggering as we staggered through snaring brambles and tripped over logs in the forest. Lonely, Mr. Blobby and I, closely followed by new boy Simon (he not only does stretches but runs quite fast – we’ll have to help him get over that) hurtled along a trail only to meet 2Bob going the other way! A tad confusing for us but 2Bob seemed to spend most of the night running in the opposite direction, or at right-angles to everyone else. We found ourselves following C5 and BGB who had stopped at a bar-3. BGB was carefully rubbing out the ‘3’, the cad! Little good did it do him since the booming tones of the lesser spotted Foghorn calling the On echoed over the forest and we all ran back anyway.
After much forest crashing we crossed the Deepcut road where total confusion reigned once again. Michael and Fiona, Mrs. Blobby and Utopia stood by the check, politely refusing my offer to them to check it out. OldFart, Uptake and I found ourselves on what was probably the right trail despite finding several falses. Uptake, despite looking more slender than usual seemed to be having trouble keeping up the pace. On chatting to him it seems the daft sod recently took part in a 50th birthday 50 mile walk. Apparently, several fell by the wayside, five fell asleep and one is even now being stuffed and mounted for exhibition at the Bexhill Museum of (and for) Old Gits.
A few hours earlier a small burrowing animal with an unusual gift for seeing into the future and with a sense of humour had taken himself to the top of a medium-sized earth mound and there had lovingly fashioned a foot-sized hole. He stopped to hide the loose earth and rested briefly, snacking on a crunchy passing beetle. Patting the hole sides smooth he carefully filled his little excavation with old leaves and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Breathing a beetle-flavoured sigh of satisfaction the creature essayed a smile, gave up when he realised he didn’t have enough facial muscles, and retired to his burrow to view events. Some while later… Glittertits looked up when he should have looked down. A trip. A strangled scream. And one happy animal retired to bed, a very satisfactory day’s work done.
This was where Foghorn, Iceman, C5, trembler et al found the Bar-3 virtually next to the check. The pack came together again. A spot of Brownian Motion ensued. Someone called On. This scenario was repeated quite a number of times in various forest locations and once on a playing field where everyone thought they saw a pole. A long cruise following OldFart, Baldrick and Glittertits – and back again from the bar to where 2Bob had hurtled sideways into the forest. Well, he had to get one right didn’t he? Another check. “Has anyone gone that way?” I ask Baldrick, pointing. “Yes.” He replies, then runs off that way just as the On comes from the opposite direction. Foghorn, the swine, called On a couple of times from the top of steep hilly bits and it suckered us each time. But we didn’t really mind. The general countryside was great as we hurtled through it. There was even the odd spot of shiggy in amongst the hard ground. Beaver managed to find a deep, filthy puddle in which to wallow in ineffable pleasure.
Somehow or other I managed to find myself being winked at horribly by Cheating, in the middle of several paths. The sight of this and the dreadful thoughts that rose, dripping from the mental quagmire were so appalling I dived off down the nearest trail and found myself on a short cut with Trembler. Hurrah! I took advantage of Trembler’s slightly more powerful build to steam past the bugger and get to the front. To my right appeared… a pole! “Pluck me!” I thought, in a feathery moment. Cheating had actually told the truth. Mr. Blobby (where the hell had he come from?) followed me and we made it up on the road where we brightened up the evening of a couple of bored gate guards by shouting near them. You’d have thought World War 3 was about to start from the look on their faces. It was a short trot down the tarmac and we were back.
Our thanks to Chuck and Cheating. From a potential disaster they managed to create a pretty good Hash. We had good fun. I guess it was the Cheating Effect. My thanks too, to Wally. Amazingly, he said something to me that a) made sense, and b) was very kind. See Wally, you can do it if you try.
On On. Hashgate.
Down Downs
RA Motox
(without notes!) presented the following :-
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Name |
Reason |
Style points |
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Baldrick |
Various sins and new shoes |
Fine drink from the waterproof |
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Commercial Whale |
Short-cutting in order to get back and drink Coke |
A fine, alcoholic necking |
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Itsyor |
Calling the RA a ‘carthorse’ |
Wally got it, but only by a short head. Then he moaned about the beer |
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Spot |
His birthday & stealing beer |
A smooth pint indeed |
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SlipperyNipple |
Waking up in another’s house... |
A well drunk shandy |
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Michael |
Helping Fiona up the hills |
It didn’t touch the sides |
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Glittertits |
Leaving his money with his wife |
Very smooth downage |
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Chuck, Cheating |
The Hares |
Excellent swallowing by both |
Up and Coming
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Run Number |
Date |
Grid Reference |
Venue |
Hares |
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1277 |
13/05/02 |
662740 |
The Royal
Oak, Westwood Glen |
Motox &
BGB |
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1278 |
20/05/02 |
714728 |
Hook &
Tackle |
Foghorn |