Garbage for 2nd January
The New Year Safari Hash
Hi All!
I am sure there is a rule against writing the trash for your own run - the
temptation being to just wax lyrical about how good it was, what a good trail,
suberbly organised etc. But what I can say without fear of contradiction, is
that the run we held out on the ranch on 2nd Jan was definitely the
best run so far this year.
Another combined run between CHCH3 and GCH3, an assorted pack began to arrive from 2.30 onwards – first to arrive was Flapper Hash Mole, who had brought with her a tiny kitten which she had found on the dump, to be given away later as a raffle prize. Apparently, we won. Others arrived in dribs and drabs in the knowledge
that – in true bank holiday fashion – a run might start eventually. Except
Crutch Itch, who arrived warmed up, stretched, ready to go and shouting “Are We
? “ by five past three. Told to shut the f*ck up and be patient by the GC JM,
the pack quaffed a few ales while the stragglers arrived, until at about 3.45 it
was realised that Bagshag and Plank were once again completely lost and likely
to catch up at some point.
Instructions were issued by 007 – “Follow trail, no shortcutting, shut gates, and beware of rampant animals along the way and watch out for electric fences...” ...OK I
forgot to tell them the last two, but hey what the hell...
Having not been on the trail I can’t recount exactly what happened, but managed to view most of it from my vantage point sitting on the chilly bin. Out of the gate to
an immediate split, and runners Crutch Itch, Navigator, Nice But and Glo-worm
split off over the bridge, while the walkers turned back into 007’s field. Ofrul
Fuk, in the front of the walkers trail, shouted “Are You?”...who to???? Who the
f*ck did he think was going to answer – the pigs and sheep??? He didn’t even get
fined for it. A newly mown trail round the perimeter of the field brought the
pack back to the creek where they were joined by virgin hasher Meg, 007’s goat
and several sheep . By this time the runners had realised the split was a falsie
and caught back up, and Nice But decided to take a sprint lead, not because she
was feeling particularly energetic but because Meg the goat had her nose up her
arse at the time.
The birdsong, moos, baas and other sounds of the countryside, were drowned out by
two distinct sounds from across the field – Octopussy and Labrat chattering and
gossiping like a pair of chipmunks, and Viagra’s whinging. Being a towny he was
most uncomfortable walking on anything green, so attempted to do the whole trail
using the big brown splatter lumps as stepping stones instead.
Through the gate into neighbour Jane’s property, the trail went back up the hill through the horse field where numerous horses took particular interest in what was
happening. Viagra’s better half Mrs Balls, also being a towny, wasn’t quite sure
what they were and hid behind Octopussy, while back markers Missing Linc, Oxfam
Legs and RLD kept a wary eye on them as they scuttled up the hill, all being
waved on my the neighbours’ kids. Trail went through the hayfield, making sure
everyone’s feet got soaking wet, then over a stile into neighbour Jane’s garden
and down the driveway. A check at the road fooled no-one, with trail quickly
being picked up to the left.
And that is where it all went wrong. First to follow trail back into another field
found that the electric fence had not been turned off and got a shocking
surprise, which immediately put off the followers who proceeded down to the next
main gate and therefore came upon the emerging trail going in the wrong
direction. And so off the pack went in the wrong direction, like the biggest
flock of sheep of all, blindly baa’ing and following the pack leaders. The
safari trail then picked up an assortment of pigs, horses, donkeys, horses,
sheep, horses, big horses and goats, all of which were valiantly fended off by
Octopussy to allow safe passage and while the more nervous members of the pack
added to the piles of poo along the way. 007 was screaming ON P*SS from across
the field to get them back on track and so everyone finally migrated back to the
right spot, past (surprise surprise) some horses to the p*ss stop in next door’s
barn. And wandering down the road to join us was Bagshag and
Plank.
Bringing up the rear was Wowo, who once again had almost wet his pants over a pair of antique mowers, a tractor and various agricultural appliances, and after a brief
stop 007 called ON ON and set the pack off down Station Road. Viagra – almost
weeping with relief at being back on solid land – showed a brief burst of speed.
Halfway along the road a car slowed down to wave and offer support, to be abused
by Frigid and Plank, who were then informed by Octopussy that it was the local
Chief Inspector of Police. Thanks guys.
At the end of the road was another split, which sent the runners off left and the
walkers on a short cut right, all to meet up for the second p*ss stop at Loburn
Hall. Having run out of trail, imagination and neighbours, 007 informed all that
the trail was now a No No back home.
Back at the ranch, Pussy Galore had prepared a wonderful spitroast of chicken, pork
and beef, amply accompanied by salads, breads and pasta, which was devoured in
short time. Just as we were mopping up the last of the sauce, right on 6.30,
Skids and Jake arrived, swearing that they had not really got the time wrong,
and managed to grab some leftovers.
Ice cream for dessert was followed by a bit of light archery, with testosterone
kicking in as 007 produced Oddjob’s bow and arrows (don’t tell him!). After
twenty minutes of losing arrows in the long grass, we sensibly moved to shorter
grass and proceeded to have a good twang. Oxy was very considerate to the
picker-uppers by not firing her arrows very far (about ten feet in fact)
with Viagra taking the prize for trick shot with a bouncing – bomb effort.
Champion archer turned out to be Gloworm, lucky bastard.
The only fines I can remember were:
007 and Pussy Galore – hare and kitchen bitch
Wowo – excited about farm machinery
Mrs Balls – virgin hasher to Chch
Bagshag and Plank – latecomers
RLD – self fined for providing new fines table
...and
quite a few others .....
An evening round the campfire and plenty more quaffing ensued, with those who
couldn’t make it home sleeping in tents, cars and vans saw an end to a good
holiday run. Best this year without a doubt.
On on,
007