Run No. 570 22nd July 2002
The Old Sun Inn, Ampthill
Ankle Biters: -
Knitting Circle: -
Isn't it funny how sometimes you can spend weeks chasing up a good story and then suddenly one drops in your lap without you having to lift a finger. Take last night for instance; one of my reporter colleagues on The Old Amtphill Grauniad and I popped into the Old Sun Inn for a couple of revivers after a deadly quiet day in the office. Quite by chance we stumbled upon some kind of secret sex and drugs pervert group - in our quiet little Georgian town; who would have thought it.
We sat in the corner of the pub and listened, hoping that they wouldn't notice us. Soon we figured out that it involved drugs as we kept hearing Hash being mentioned quite openly. The people (both men and women) clearly did not want to be identified and only ever referred to each other using code names such as Paintball, Ringkisser, Penetrator, Nik-Nak and GorJoyce. The bit we haven't told you yet readers is that many of them were obviously frustrated transsexuals, as the men were adorned in some very becoming red dresses. Several had substantial breast implants. A few, presumably neophytes, were not allowed to wear a dress but one, known as Pecker, admitted that he had forgotten to bring his and was later severely punished by the group for doing so.
Around 7:30 the group formed into a sort of circle outside and two of their number, referred to only as The Hares, spoke briefly and then draw some strange symbols on the ground using a white powder; I later tried snorting a line of this but it didn't seem to have much effect on me. A couple of novices were spotted and made to introduce themselves to the rest of the group - rather like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting... Err, so I'm told.
Soon the group made ready to leave, so naturally your trusty reporters just had to follow them. They seemed not to know the area very well as several times they ran quite some distance around the streets, only to find themselves back almost where they started. All the time this was accompanied the shouting of meaningless incantations and the blowing of horns. Eventually it became clear that they were trying to find Ampthill Park and at last set off in the right direction. Still uncertain of exactly where to go, the pack first ran down the hill, then up it again, only to run down it again and finally up it yet again!!! A gentleman known as Shaggy paid homage to some deity or other by laying face down spread-eagled on the ground, gasping f**! me - with hindsight we wondered whether this was in fact an offer.
Running now out of the park past the cricket pitch and the Rugby Club, the group split into two; one group, apparently a Knitting Circle, went one way, whilst the rest, went another. A bit pointless really as they joined up again on the road by the Alameda School. They must have been thirsty by now as one of their number suddenly produced cans of beer and bottles of cider from the boot of a car in the Municipal Offices car park, which was readily downed by the others. Then it was back to the pub they started from almost exactly one hour earlier. More drinking of beer and chanting followed, during which we learned that this was a chance meeting of two separate groups; one from Milton Keynes, the other from a place called H5 - I tried, but couldn't find it anywhere on the map.
I suggest you watch out for this crowd. They seemed relatively harmless, but maybe this is only the tip of the iceberg. For all we know there could be similar groups doing this all over the world!!!!!!!
Your dogged reporters,
Archive Ed: Post-Words, this e-mail from Supermini was received:
Reference: Inability to find H5 on the map
Any well-travelled hash traveller will know that H5 is to be found on the Topographic Survey Maps for northern Jordan.
Many moons ago there were places called H5 and H4 etc and they were pumping stations for the Iraqi, or was it the Saudi, oil pipeline - the pipeline does still exist anyway.
To the best of my knowledge, without going to the extent of digging out the map, H5 is now known as Safawi - a charming little place in the middle of the basalt boulder fields where it gets as hot as hell in the summer and colder than charity in winter. I know rather well as I spent months (that is MONTHS) camped in a house in the sodding place.
So, you see there is a good connection between Ampthill, ex-Ampthill resident and H5.