DikDik Honeymonster Potty Nutcracker Hashgate C5 TrainSpotter Anorak(1) Anorak(2) Iceman Cuddles Sarah SexSlave Foghorn Fruitn’Nut Baldrick Ms. Whiplash Motox BGB Septic Dumper Dickhead Goalkeeper TheRealMcCoy Saltn’Lineker ShutupWally RentBoy Bomber Posh Uptake Kevin (a virgin) Florence Zebedee HitchHiker Cloggs PissQuick Glittertits SlipperyNipple Cloggs FlyingDoctor Commercial Whale Flash SilverFox CarelessWrister SpottedDick Bluebell

2. Nasty ‘Orrible Weather – Great Hash

“Here boy. Come on Jake. Walkies.” Hamlet had called cheerfully to his faithful, sleeping hound first thing in the morning. Jake, as we all know, is a rumbustious black labrador. All waggingtailnoisybarkjumpingaboutreadytogolovesHamlettobits. He opened a bleary eye and viewed the worsening December weather. “Bugger off.” He growled, clamping shut the eyelid and placing a large paw over his eyes. Hamlet prodded his ribs warily with a running shoe. “We might find rabbits!” cajoled Hamlet brightly. A deeper growl escaped the creature. “If you don’t fek off,” it seemed to say, “I‘ll have your bum cheek for breakfast.” Hamlet decided to let sleeping dogs lie and backed away. Opening the back door he grimaced as the cold and drizzle hit him.

We knew how he felt as we got out of our cars. It was numbingly cold and damp. Misty, low cloud draped menacingly over the surrounding countryside. A small, disconsolate group of brass monkeys queued at the local blacksmiths. It’s times like this when you wonder why we do this in winter. Still, there were a couple of bright spots. TrainSpotter and Anorak had rejoined us after a long absence journeying around the planet and Foghorn showed us the flyer for the Grizzly that pictured KnackerCatcher in full flight from last year. Luckily he wasn’t with us today or he would have been preening unbearably. There were many North Hants and some Deepcut Hashers with us so quite a throng bounced about round the pub, desperately trying to get warm. The Hares treated us to a demonstration of the trail markings that were a mixture of N. Hants and Berks. Nobody took any notice or understood. And we were off down the road the usual way. I caught up with Florence and thanked her for writing last week’s Gobsheet unbidden. I hope you found her Committee members description useful. I certainly did.

Early on I found myself running back to a check which enabled everyone running in the opposite direction on the other side of the hedge to call encouragement and wish me well. How kind. Motox and SlipperyNipple were particularly enthusiastic with their greetings. It enabled me to chat to Zebedee and we discussed back and bum injuries like the geriatrics that we are while clogging our way across a ploughed field. I was impressed to see Glittertits gliding across the sods with barely a plimsoll mark. This bears witness to either the lightness of his running style or huge feet, designed to spread the load. The effort of crossing the field had warmed us up a bit so we were quite warm when we hit the first regroup. Hamlet and Jolly Green Giant had thoughtfully placed it in a shiggy-filled hollow that reeked of things long dead. Uptake and Foghorn could hold back no longer and duly shiggy-rogered the innocent (of all wrongdoing) C5 and the guilty (of constant irritation) ShutupWally. Iceman and Honeymonster harked back with misty eyes to last week’s water and mudfest laid on by Lemming and Mother T. Today’s trail was apparently a mere mudskipper to last week’s swamp rat. I thought it prudent to tighten the old shoe laces as everyone started off again and skipped on confidently after the pack. Not tight enough evidently as a particularly sticky patch of deep muck and biscuits slipped off my shoe, leaving me sock deep in goo and desperately trying extract the thing from the clutching ooze. Eventually, it tore free with a terrible wet, sucking sound. It was rather like trying to take a pint away from Motox in mid slurp. I managed to force my disgusting foot back into the thing and raced after the pack, catching up with Posh as she slipped delicately up the hill. What an incredible woman! Bomber should be truly proud. In the middle of nowhere, wind and drizzle turning the rest of us to flapping scarecrows, her superbly applied makeup had not an eyelash out of place. Not a hint of perspiration threatened her peach-like cheek. She arched a perfect eyebrow in response to my gushing admiration. “One has to keep up one’s standards.” She uttered huskily. Wow!

By this time we were thoroughly warmed up and heading for the next regroup, somewhere in a forest. On the way I passed by Potty who freely admitted that, should a sheep stray across his path, he would gladly give it a full-on snog. You’ve got to wonder what he and Nutcracker get up to on those rare conjugal evenings. Does he ram home his point? Does she ewes him unmercifully? Do they pull the wool over each other’s eyes? Or do they have a quiet night in, knitting?

We slopped on through the gathering gloom so we could get warm again after standing about. Dickhead had grabbed some holly and ran along ‘prick in hand’ as someone pointed out. We passed through the grounds of a fine Elizabethan moated house and then through thick shiggy up a hill towards Hamlet’s Long/Short split (he’d managed to write the ‘L’ backwards). Down in the farmyard was a pond and there in the water, watched by inquisitive ducks, stood SpottedDick treading water like a complete loon. I must say, I’m surprised that someone as daft as this isn’t running with BH³. Perhaps it’s only a matter of time.

This bit of on-road loop took us back into Charter Alley and the On Inn and I’m pleased to report that (as requested by C5 in the Run Sheet) we duly stuffed N. Hants by getting back first!

An excellent, dirty weekend trail laid by the Hares. And a damn fine pub to go back to. Thanks guys.

On On. Hashgate.

3. Down Downs

RAs Motox and Jolly Green Giant presented the following :-

Came and went

A fine quaff

Not a bad effort at all

Sipped it down limp-wristedly

Slurped in one

His usual excellent style

Straight down in one

JJG won this one. Hamlet’s not used to the good beer

4. Up and Coming