The buzzards circled, eyeing their prey. Two unsuspecting hares bounced playfully over meadow and through glade, flour dusting from their little powder puff tails......

Enough of the Beatrix f###ing Potter already.

Those 10 minutes of light rain at 2:30 am Sunday morning.....the time some of us who don't have kids yet (quite) are just going to bed... were just enough to wash out half the trail. Fortunately, mostly the back checks (or were they bar checks: lysdexic haring, I say) remained washed out as it was far too early in the morning for this Hare to relay the whole trail.

So, Sunday then:

Circling up for the start then, we seemed a little thin on the ground. Still, one newey was introduced. She then flicked her tail and disappeared back into the pub on all fours purring. Comments could have been made about what a nice, soft pussy tasting of beer...but, fortunately, we are all so much above this type of base humour.

As 11:15 came and went, those Hashers that came, went.

As 11:30 came and went the rest of those Hashers that were coming came and on the Hash went. (D- for grammar, please see me - headmaster)

Those that could recall the previous Snail and MLP trail without the recurring nervous twitch tentatively headed out into what they feared could be an adventure longer than the Great North Run. The first two checks certainly didn't help to allay those premonitions.

Expecting the Hash to be strung out by the second check, a number of unscrupulous tactics had to be employed. This saw the front-runners disappearing down steep hills to find back checks hidden behind trees and then returning to become even more confused by GIBLETS seen running forwards, backwards and in circles and he wasn't even on dust. When GIBLETS finally paused long enough to converse, it was only to announce with no shame his COMPETETIVE training schedule. Good job G-String was also away running COMPETETIVELY in the Great North Run or a beery grave would have been met, come the circle.

Such a COMPETETIVE lot we are. So the hares knew a COMPETETIVE check would get it out of the system good and early. First 6 runners took their marks and headed off at a mediocre speed into the infinite beyond under false pretences of prizes. Eventually they returned looking bemused, queasy and like there had perhaps been some cheating going on. The results of the race were fielded approximately in this order: 1st: PAINTBALL (claimed he wasn't but since no one completed the distance...) 2nd: POOPER (probably 1st, but I suspect foul play but we are awaiting a stewards enquiry) 3rd: DEADMEAT after possible match rigging by some sheep and 4th SMIFFO or anyone else that was seen moving in the direction of the trail. The net result was the regrouping of the hash and ONON we all headed.

Much countryside was viewed and many stiles crossed. Crops were dusted and blackberries tasted. The pace continued DOWN-DOWN as the first hour loomed and then Lo, in the distance, there came to site a village. And in that village the people did come out and speak with these weary travellers. And in this village there did grow a gnarled old apple tree. Here did GORJOYCE rejoice and suffer also unto temptation and begat herself the wicked sin of scrumping. Not for the first time either!!!!

With all energy sapped, the sorry looking bunch vaguely split between the playing fields and the road and followed their noses towards the waft of 12 real ales. One brave member worthy of note even courteously ran all of the last false trail. Thank you SMIFFO. And to the rest of you check-hovering fart knockers...

ON- IN (or maybe ON INN) Back to the pub.

After a few favourable remarks upon the range of ales, we circled up after a couple of goes. A tear of fond memory came to PONGO as he recalled his 50th run award at the very same pub back in 1893. That may or may not be a typo. GM since then had been clocked at 200 runs. Commemorative panties are to follow ON-ON shortly.

F.K.A. DUCK undertook the dis-honorary role of secret RA. This left the HASHIT to be awarded properly another time which is possibly bad news for STALLION. The good news was that the hares got nearly all the DOWN-DOWNS. Even SNAIL agreed that stout, although good for the baby was better on the head.

Finally, cheers to F.K.A. DUCK for the Chinese take-away joke.

On On you bastards.