This is the text version of the H5 Words. Just for a change, you won't find the same on the web site, cos I haven't done them. Having been working for 17 hours straight, being hash scribe sucks. I don't want pity though. Just buy me beer next time you see me.

Having looked at the map the hares decided that there was no point reccying the run, we were much better off laying it blind, grabbing a few quick pints and getting back to watch the rugby - good plan I thought.

So the day came and the sun it did shineth (ish). Unfortunately it was also blowing a hoolley, to the extent that the lake was lapping over the path and the dust was blowing away as fast as it was laid. Somewhere around Bedfordshire is 6Kgs of Tescos finest blue & white stripy self-raising. (Did you know it's gone up from 9p to 12p - a scandalous and obviously blatant attempt by the supermarket to take advantage of the captive high volume hash hare market as identified in recent MORI polls).

The run set off well with all the first falsies being picked up before the real trail out of the park was spotted. The trail through the allotments was a cause of much amusement as Shaggy decided to call on on in all directions and run about aimlessly (this sounds familiar). Eventually, the real trail was located and we ended up on the embankment, where a cunningly laid bar, placed with the sole intention of catching Woody Pecker, was richly found by said miscreant who headed straight for the bridge in the sound and certain knowledge he knew where he was going - NOT. 1-0 to the hares.

Having decided that this wasn't the crossing there was only one other way across the River, other than swimming, so Pecker headed for the next bridge and was promptly seen tearing across the car park at a great rate of knots on an imaginary trail. 2-0 to the hares. The real trail went down the side of the river and eventually ended up at a mass confusion check at the entrance to the Park again - there were bodies everywhere, I was really beginning to enjoy this. Pongo eventually found the real trail, only to bump into Donut running backwards up it - more confusion until Bell End shot up the embankment and over the railway bridge to find more dust just the other side of a cunning T (why did I think of cunning stunt then?).

The trip back through the park was another example of what can happen when Pecker thinks he knows where the trail is going. On more than one occasion he was spotted emerging from the bushes after spending 5 mins running in the wrong direction convinced he knew where he was going. Luckily for him most of his misdemeanours where missed by the RA. Despite all his misdemeanours Pecker's efforts were eclipsed by Ringer who tried to run parallel to the trail down a culvert only to find it ended in a V and being reluctant to get his feet wet had to run all the way back. 3-0 Hares.

The On-Inn was finally located an hour after the start and a somewhat joyous hash ended up back at the pub for an early circle. Despite the quick circle-up a number of sinners were noticeable by their absence, so the RA was forced to take his revenge on the hares with what can only be described as a second hand enema kit. Smiffo received a couple of down downs, one of which was due to it being his b'day. Yours truly got one for losing the hash toilet seat (I still don't think I've got it!). Underlay was forced to expose her ample cleavage after being awarded a RA enema for allowing her dog to crap in the middle of the trail and then not clearing it up. Bellend & myself both done for calling Pecker Woody. Numerous others, including Munchkin for competitive running and last but not least the RA for leaving his trousers round my house last week.

On On
Cardiac & Smiffo