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Run Number: |
SSS1 |
Visit the
website – http://berkshirehash.co.uk
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Venue: |
Silchester Church |
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Hares: |
Spotless |
Dwight ShutupWally Hamlet Iceman Blowjob Twanky Honetmonster Hashgate Motormouth and so many cows, calves, horses, sheep, foxes, rabbit and even Donkeys to mention
Well not really – he just arrived early at 4am to check someone wasn’t winding him up.
Soon there were 4 times as many attendees as expected by Grandmaster Spotless.
No sign of the recalcitrant XX who was staying in bed Tony Mrtin fashion with a shotgun to protect his pigsty!
Soon though sleepy eyed stupid hashers appeared, Honey followed by the twins Blowjob and Twanky,
Hamlet with a cheap roll up of his namesake aglow dressed in a Helly Hansen to protect his old bones from the cold!
Lastly Iceman decided family life doesn’t suit him and he managed to escape along with that other breeding machine Son of Ram
With grate aplomb(the chimney having caught fire) Spotless lit the inaugural rocket and as it touchpapered the void we were ON out.
Well not exactly Hashgate belatedly managed to kick that slothful teenager out of bed and drag him down down to make up the numbers.
Whilst Honey skied round the course without skies passifying the locals having risen to the noise of fireworks not crows, the intrepid Octopets were soon on flour – the usual route(hang on on this is the inaugural –Ed)
Anyway with poetic licence on board the pack proceeded around the Romam Ruins.
The sun rose, the clouds hid it but Spotl;ess smiled simply as he thought how clever he was to persuade 8 men and true to leave their warm pits in the midst of the night.
Obviously SUW led the way but soon was lost in the wet grass and found it strange that his fellow hashers stopped calling ON ON so that he had some sound to follow.
Iceman and Dwight twittered the whole hash about their choice of petticoats for the hoe down that weekend etc Bev kept telling Twanky that size isn’t everything, Hashgate started by offering Motormouth a fiver if he strangled Wally but by the time the ON IN was in sight the odds had increased to those of England winning a tea let alone a world cup.
A Masterstroke by a mistress completed the early dawn chorus when Spotless took us to the Roman arena for succulence.
I was pleased there were no lions to hand because there was a feeling of foreboding as I caught Hashgate muttering something disrespectedly.
However, the bowl of strawberries and cream made the Wimbledon ersatz pale as the morning sun into insignificance as the rain clouds rolled over and leapt out of bed.
Blowjob promised(as she ate the last Rolo) that she would do it for Spotless next year! and the rest of the assembled thong patronised him in their different ways- something about a PB in the toilet!?
Well done Spotless – the lad done good.
GRANDMASTER SPOTLESS PUTS A ROCKET UP THE COMMUNITY OF SILCHESTER AT 4.32AM