Before the Words for 1468, a report from our European correspondent in Germany, Forking Dickchair:

Many thanks to Bangers for today's fine run, but firstly let me tell you about my run with the Munich hash last week...Starting at 3pm on Saturday 23 March at Frankfurter Ring station, about 30 assembled in the park. Hare Speedo Gonzales made me most welcome. Wearing my 444 Hare and Hounds Hash tee shirt this made it easier to show all who asked me where my my home hash was. Bird Brian was running the show, but in order to shut him up after he waffled in the circle too long (a bit like Captain F) and asked if anyone else had an announcements, the pack in unison sang 'Do You Want My Finger In Your Ear', all putting their little fingers in their ears, followed by a pirouette as they all sung along and placed their hands on their head and waggled their little fingers, much like an indian wardance before a final rendition of 'Do you want my Finger in Your Ear'. The pack then set off and within half an hour were on top of a viewpoint in Olympic Park, time for an Appleschnapps stop. More running, more chatting with harriets 'Poor Me Water' and 'Bottom Blower' before a beer stop in a beer garden. Beer drained it was another slog, but before the run ended there was time for a second Applelschnapps stop. About now I genuinely had a bit of gravel in my shoe, but in the face of retreating fish-hooked fibs having shaken the offending grit out I was offered many stones, pebbles, shingle, rocks and up to a half-brick each hasher saying 'Vass eet Dis Vun' until a small cairn had built up. As the last one was placed in my hand I felt duty bound to carry it all the way to the finish. At the conclusion, with their RA 'Mother F***ing Teresa' not present the floor was thrown open. In the circle stepped a visiting RA from Berlin Hash, Hot Nuts. One RA drinks, all RAs (well, I once was) drink. I then copped 'Broke Back Mount Me' for mis-checking a falsie. F**k Me declared it was his birthday, and as plastic wine glasses were dished out, he whipped a bottle of sparkling from his knapsack and charged the glasses as we all sung 'Hashy Birthday'. I then tossed my sweaty tee-shirt into the circle, and as a reward for buying me a beer on the run 'Small Hard-on Collider' was the reluctant recipient. Following accusations in the circle and a repertoire of songs including a memorable ditty aimed at a visiting hasher going to the brothel only to find it was his sister... and many other down-downs, a once full crate of beer was now drained. It was then time for food as most, myself included, proceeded to a Greek restaurant for a hearty meal and more beer. I checked out about 10 pm that night for the train trip and bike ride back to my hotel. As all the hashers had arrived by train, tram or bus the copious quantity of ale drunk was inconsequential of how they returned home. In true Forking style, this trip also included a later visit to a German barbers, mainly to scrape away 6 days growth on my chin to change the baby hedgehog texture into being as smooth as a manicured camels toe.

on on
FORKING

Well there you have it, straight from the horse's... So Run 1468. This was almost entirely down to Bangers. The biggest contribution made by his co-hare was to write these Wurdz. Didn't Bangers do well? He shurley did! After a bit of confusion the week before that needn't concern us here, involving reccying, conferences and bell-ringing competitions, the hares met up mid-Saturday afternoon to lay the run in glorious warm sunshine. Would it be repeated on the day? Dawn arrived an hour earlier than usual and the temperature was definitely not yet out of bed. Brrr! Would our host remember that he was opening the pub specially for us? It doesn't normally open on Sundays until 2pm. While Bangers was laying the first 1/2 mile of the trail [this will explain a small chalking incident – see later] which we had left until the day to avoid the attention of the local militia, I marked up the On-Inn and the rest of the dust around the pub. Back in good time for the Circle, where a fine selection of H5's best were assembling. Last to arrive was HM Knobber, having run to us from home and then panted out the "Welcome to run..." bit and told us that he'd been working as a human cannonball with a circus until yesterday when he got fired. Advice to the pack from the 150 combined years life-experienced Hares was that the run was part-urban, part-rural and beware the horses. On-Out!

Being located on a roundabout, naturally there were 4 directions to be checked out. I followed the group led by Underlay up the A600 towards Bedford, but one of the aforementioned Ts was soon found. Picking up the correct trail down the A600 towards Hitchin, we were soon off the main road and meandering through the new housing estate located on the site of the dismantled railway alluded to in the streetnames: Signal Close, The Sidings, Station Close and The Railway. The vicinity of the Henlow Camp airfield not withstanding, finding one called Flight Path seemed a bit out of place. Ringer, having now caught up with the FRBs, had not run this section on the day and in following The Count, Rapid W, Shuffle, Tim et al, all calling strongly, laid an arrow down an alleyway to somebody's garden. The fast-moving FRBs came to a sudden halt and crunched up together like sardines in a can. Would the RA remember this later? What do you think?

Reaching a held check at the top of the hill we completed the Urban section of the run and started on the Rural section. As well as sprinking a few number loop-backs along the way, an opportunity soon arose to runs the legs off at least some of the FRBs. Two long false trails in opposite directions, both uphill, did their work. The trail being about a 5-mile loop, near by the Arlesey Clay Pit a shortcut was put in to allow the KC to get ahead of the FRBs. Bangers took the KC while Ringer attempted to keep up with the FRBs around the path alongside the River Hiz up as far the weir, before turning for the long run back to Henlow Camp via the playing fields and the ajoining rows of unimaginative, identical, blanco'd service personnel accomodation.

A quick change and into the Old Transport Ale House for some very fine and refreshing beers. It seems no time at all since this micropub opened but in fact it was 4½ years ago! Hop It from St Peter's Brewery was especially praised. Less well-received (by Capt Fantaaastic) was an odd pint of St Georges Ale from Wanstum Brewery which looked alright for about 2 minutes before producing a scummy head and an off taste. Publican was happy to change it though. Joining us as Apres were Frau and Nicey, who has done a LOT of growing recently.

No birthdays or anniversaries were declared so it was 'Hares into the Circle please' time, after which noted infringements were pointed out and punished/rewarded by RA Rapid Withdrawal before finally Ringer was called back into the circle to account for the Sardinegate scandal – no the RA had not forgotten about it.

OnOn to next week's run from The Engine and Tender at Ampthill, where Cyclopath and Blow Felt will await you
Bangers & Ringer

A Note from your Scribe: First principles mean we don't "correct" Wurdz. But when Hash Royalty in the form of none other than DE commands a change, the Scribe's Office is quick to respond. The Wurdz for 1467 have been "updated".