Run No 800
Sunday, 7th January 2007
Waggon & Horses, Steeple Morden
Hares: Big Blouse & Knobber
HASHERS: Over 80 (37 from H5) APRES: 34,789 RETURNEES: Feck Knows MUTTS: 3
HARES PATIENTLY WAIT FOR THE CH3 CHOIR ..
DID WE HAVE SHIGGY? ..
BOG SEAT SNORKLER ..
NO WONDER THE WEATHER WAS KIND ..
LAST OF THE SUMMER WINE ..
PAPARAZZI MISS OUT
Firstly, on behalf of our esteemed (or should that be steaming?) GM, Donut, I would like to send a heart fed Thank You to the Cambridge H3 who were out & about in considerable force to join us for our legendary 800th run!. It was a splendid occasion and wonderful to meet friends old & new.
Situated just 2 miles north of Ashwell, The Wagon & Horses (a fine Greene King establishment) is Cambridgeshire's most Southerly pub and seemed like a good place to lay the 800th run from on the Sunday. On the Saturday, the heavens opened and completely obliterated most of the trail leaving frantic hares Big Blouse and Knobber to try and find the original trail before the hash arrived !, thankfully most were intact.
As the appointed time neared. it appeared doubtful that the car park would hold everyone A massive turn out from both Hashes ensured that total chaos was sure to follow. The enormous circle was sort of called to order by Joint GMs Donut and Calapso and the sort of rules were not very well explained at all by the hares, but everyone was warned of due consequences if they ignored the numbered check backs (designed to control the front running Bastards) and as a mark of respect to the beautiful surroundings, the hash flour has been upgraded to "Morrisons finest very strong white" and No Knickers provided a couple of hash carrots to placate any savage horses the hash may encounter. It was always going to be messy but what the hell, it was a day to enjoy and the sun shone !
The On-On was called and with foul oaths and terrible curses (+ the occasional 'woof') the massive sprawling mess of legs arms and teeth ventured forth with Captain Fantaaastic, Five Baah, Benghazi (I think??) and Walnut Whip Willy, Scooper (or possibly now Wallah Bollox) leading the Way, with Deliverance, Toed Bedsores, Dan Dare, Mekon, Computer and several Ankle biters in tow, but being overtaken occasionally by several other fast buggers from CH3. Amongst the melee our venerable veteran White Rabbit (500 + runs to date, but only 6 times has she parked at a hash venue without causing minor damage to something) and Deadmeat, BOF, Kermit, Ringer, Taxidermist. Lady Penelope, Private Parts and Bastard belted off in all directions to find several false trails, eventually the true on was spotted and we were off and away across the open fields.
Already the FRBs are way ahead and sprint nimbly over the first half mile ignoring several falsies and onto a check. As a man the pack head off on the right trail over a shiggy-filled furlong towards the distant trees. The on is called and the entire hash go the wrong way ! (Yaay - my job as a hare was going well). After much confusion False trail is called and several unhappy FRBs once more pick up the scent and they're off. Umple Bum, Utter Buttocks, Paparazzi, Gorjoyce and Dave The Rave amble past and the hash can be seen stretching out over what appears to be a mile or so. The horribly disjointed mess is lead on to the first check back. 25 lucky Hashers are caught and their FRB tendencies are kerbed savagely as they are forced to run at least half a mile to the rear. Most of the rest of the pack catches up (sort of) and once more we're off. Another 12 numbered check really does catch people unawares and your scribe Big Blouse tries to order Calapso to the back, but is over ruled by Donut who pulls rank and allows the Cambridge GM some privilege of position.
Once again were off and over a busy main road into what can only be described as a mud bath. Screamer decides to take a bath in the mud (twice) as do several newies and notably there are screams from 'Princess' (I think) and her friend the possibly soon to be named 'Precious' who mince delicately around the swampy bits [and this from Big Blouse? ... Ed]. We're then onto a check and a shagged out My Little Pony, Walnut Whip Willy, Deliverance, and Captain Fantaaastic check out various trails. The on is called and were up to a held check on a busy main road.
A small attractive lady CH3 hasher (sorry., can't remember her name - my head is full) moans about being cold and there are instantly several less-than-subtle offers of er ...... 'instant warmth' from Ringer, Capt F and Private Parts. Various totally shigged out and mud battered hashers are deliriously happy at the thought of yet another check as one CH3 head off to Guilden Morden (!) - totally the wrong direction hhhhhhhaarrggggggggghhhhhhhh! (wot a larf!!)
So. once more we're away and unusually there appears to be dissent in the ranks. "Over-cooked" mutters Bell End, "It's 12.30" moans a miserable Bastard - (typical, all that planning and I still can't please the Bastard) there are even more moans until the option of a short cut or an official 'Beer Stop' is offered - The now sweaty, smelly, appallingly shiggy-covered pile that is the joint hash decides to descend on the beer stop and much quaffing and panting ensues.
Then with a cry of "gird up your loins and get on with it you poofters" Calapso encouraged further effort from the totally buggered hashers, so With Foul Moans and Curses the hash once more get on with it and the on on is called, after a scenic troll through the woods with more gay cries of "oooohhh it's a bit muddy" a short spurt up the hill (where several hashers make a break for it via an unofficial Short cut) and in a gesture of wonderful goodwill from Knobber, he agrees to lop a THIRD of the run off, and quietly pops in a short Cut to the On Inn, and with cries of relief about a cubic mile of mud is deposited on the roads and footpaths by the now totally ruined hashers, and thus a slightly long but fecking brilliant 800th run has ended.
The circle was a thing of wonderment and great beauty. As the Hares are Assistant RA and RA respectively, we were banned from being unleashed in the circle, however our lovely old curmudgeon GM Donut had thoughtfully installed a secret RA - the partially demented Count Roadkill who unleashed down downs a plenty on the H5, and CH3's RA Dave The Rave bedecked in the ceremonial garb of his high office administered punishments for misdemeanours both massive and minor accompanied by the massed ranks of the CH3 choir in fine voice:
There were further down downs with Lady Penelope attempting to sell 800th mugs to all & sundry (go on, buy a couple you tight buggers!) but your scribe was by this time full of beer and generally overcome with the sight of so many fine hashers and thus a fine and rather odd day had ended.