TALL TALES OF TWO LONGS by Man-Pig & the Bird

Run #1892 Monday 29th November

VENUE: The Village Inn, Highweek, Newton Abbot

 

HARES: Only Here for the Beer & Shitfaced

 

ROLL CALL: Only Here for the Beer, Shitfaced, Bluebird (returnee), Melon Picker, Forrest-Stump, Gaga-4-it, Ernie, Fallen Woman, Wet-Johnny, Man-Pig, Piltdown-Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Strap-On, Able Semen, Tamsin (needs a name), Beefy, Pisswell, Rambo, Zen, Big-End, Well-Hopped, Satnav, Threesum, Wetfart, Pork Torpedo & Hornie.

 

IN ABSENTIA: Arkangel, Bobbiball, most Penners, Cheerio Beerio (building kitchen)

 

THE CIRCLE

Only Here for the Beer was the named Hare for the evening's shenanigans. What we didn't know was that he had a co-conspirator - Shitfaced - recently recovered from a wrist injury (self-inflicted!). With these two in charge what could possibly go wrong?

 

Shitfaced engaged us with a rather long winded tale of how they set the trail or, more accurately, how they failed to set the trail. "What do you do if you see a Road Closed sign when setting the trail?". "Carry on", was the obvious response. For we are on foot and road signs do not apply to hashers... or do they? I guess this rather depends on whether or not you're laying the trail by car or on foot.

 

Inevitably, it proved to be the case that much of the trail had been laid with the assistance of the internal combustion engine (in 10 years time the scribe will be writing hydrogen fuel cell).

 

Yes, Shitfaced and Only Here for the Beer came up against a Road Closed sign. Despite the kindly advice of a helpful local, "The road really is closed", Dick Dastardly and Muttley drove on before coming across a huge gaping hole spanning the fill width of the carriageway. Worse still, there was no room to turn around. "Drat and Double-drat". Hence a neck wrenching half mile reverse back to the original road closed sign. Unfortunately, the helpful local was still there. A sheepish smile from Shitfaced towards the good samaritan. Now, if Only here for the Beer's car was covered in astroturf everything would have been explained.

 

Anyway, the outcome of all this was that if you see a road closed sign, ignore it, but only if you're on foot.

 

There was one Long/Short split. The Walkers' trail was completely separate from that of the Longs and Shorts. Accordingly, if the Long trail proved to be too short, just tack on the Walkers' trail at the end. This seemed a tad confusing as the Hare had previously told us that the Longs was six miles.......ho hum.

 

PART 1: MAN-PIG'S LONG

The Longs and the Shorts turned left out of the pub car park and commenced a rather long descent down Ringslade Road to the A382. At the new roundabout, Beefy and Wet Johnny checked left towards the A38 while Big End checked right back towards Newton Abbot. Although Beefy was calling, passing traffic meant that we couldn't hear what he was calling. Nevertheless, as he hadn't come back to the check we decided the he was probably "On". A canter along the A382 took us up to Forches Cross and a big arrow pointing right and onto Greycoat Lane.

 

At the bottom of Greycoat Lane, the only Long/Short split, the Longs went left towards Teigngrace whilst the Shorts took a right towards the old Exeter Road. At this point, the pack was pretty spread out. Wet-Johnny and Beefy were ahead and we couldn't hear any calling from them so they were probably a loooooooong way in front of us. The Pig had been joined by Tamsin and Big End (sans Ned) as we headed towards Teigngrace and the obvious right turn over the railway and Stover canal.

 

Marks took us right along the new cycle path. An obvious route would have been to take us straight on and across the field to join the footpath that runs along the banks of the Teign......but no marks. So it was down the Templer Way following the marks to Teign Bridge.

 

Would we be continuing down the Templer Way to Jetty Marsh road or would we be heading back towards the A382 by the Vauxhall & MG garage? The arrows don't lie and a big arrow pointed us right, along the old Exeter Road, across the A382 and up Whitehill Road. Well, we had started with a long downhill stretch on Ringslade Road so it was inevitable that we would be finishing with a reciprocal uphill slog. And this is exactly what we got from Whitehill Road.....uphill until we hit the pub!

Wet-Johnny and Beefy were only just back at the pub and were looking perplexed. "Only 3.5 miles. But Shitfaced had said it was a six miler". We discussed the route. Wet-Johnny and Beefy had done exactly the same route as ourselves and we had been "On trail" all the time. We couldn't have gone Wong Wei!

Nevertheless, Beefy and Wet-Johnny elected to tack-on the Walker's trail to make up the mileage. Man-Pig, Tamsin and Big End elected to go for a pint of beer instead.

 

Back in the pub, the number of hashers seemed lower than expected. Sure, all the Walkers were back and there would be some Longs still out on trail but what about the Shorts?

 

The only Short we'd seen was Zen whom we'd passed on the climb up Whitehill Road. Where were the others? Later, quite a long time later, Smellie, Strap-On, Ernie and Well-Hopped staggered through the front door of the pub:

 

"Where have you been?" asked the Pig.

"On the Longs", replied Smellie.

"What? till now? It was only three and a half miles", retorted the Pig.

Incredulously, Smellie queried, "Where have you been Man-Pig? The longs was five and a half miles". Smellie was quite adamant about this.

 

Further analysis of the trail revealed that a cunning plan had been conceived by the Hares. "Why don't we put in a second long short split but don't tell anybody? Put down dots the same distance from the junction in every direction and let them find out for themselves? We won't even mark it as check. The best bit is, those that do the longer trail will come back to exactly the same place. They could be going round in circles for ages!" A cunning plan indeed.

 

The net result of Dumb and Dumber's efforts was that some Longs had a jolly jape of circa 5.5 miles whilst the other Longs got away lightly with a mere 3.5 miles. Fortunately, no-one was foolish enough to repeat the loop or even retrace the outgoing trail back to the pub!

 

PART 2: THE BIRD'S LONG

Many thanks MP for manning the ramparts, shades of Beau Geste (1966) (dead legionnaires admittedly) but now, amidst screams of rage and pleas for mercy, the Bird proudly presents the upcoming epic:

 

FIVE CAME HOME (based on the TV mini series 2017)

 

Certificate HHH*

 

All day was the Bird in a state of High Anxiety (1977). After a yawning chasm of six weeks, The Return of the Living Dead (1985) was nigh. BUT would the plan actually work?

 

Oh Yes, Dearly Beloved, it was Shirley showtime and there was a lot riding on Antonio** from Papillon (1973). Failure would Shirley drive the Bird back into his bunker for a considerable time - and that would include all pre-christmas fixtures... I heard that hoorah!

 

It started badly and got worse. Striding Wong Wei (after all of twenty yards) towards the church, the Bird glanced back to see he was alone, whatamistakatomaka.

 

Skulking back onto trail, the longs and shorts had long gone - game over so soon Shirley? Grrrr. To compound his misery, it was quite a steep descent that was more than tricky and the Bird gingerly proceeded at impulse power only, shouting a curse to the skies..

 

A light ahead, a hasher walking a dog mayhap, but try as hard as he could, it proved impossible to get any closer.

 

But he was a tough old Bird and persevered. It became flatter and semi-trundle speed was applied.

'Nice to see you back, BB' came the greeting as the walking dog combo was passed, but I failed to identify the hasher, only learning later that it was Well Hopped and Ned!

 

Poor Well Hopped was also injured and unable to run after taking a tumble from her bike and cracking a rib in her back. Very painful as I can Shirley testify. Ned had a good walk though - Well Hopped appeared after we had finished and changed seventy minutes later.

 

A luridly lit roundabout loom-ed and hashers could be seen in the distance giving the Bird a chance to dance. No need to check, just follow.

 

Zen appeared in the cross-hairs and the Bird closed with menace. A few yards from triumph, Zen broke into a trot and the chance evaporated. However, Zen eventually tired of the manoeuvre and ground to a halt to admire the views and the Bird carved the first notch on his Lee-Enfield.

 

Veering right at Forches Cross, three hashers: SM Ellie, Strap-On and Pisswell were espied and a little further ahead was Ernie, he of the fastest milk cart fame. A veritable mini hash pioneering gaily along - until the manic loping Bird rudely interrupted their peaceful jaunt.

 

And so it began. The Bird surging ahead with a curious loping gait on any gradient (though unfortunately very few) and being rapidly reeled back in on any downhill where the lope could not work.

The banter was convivial indeed and hey! the Bird was back in the Fray Bentos.

 

Approach a familiar railway crossing did the querulous quintet quest with only a slight delay actually undoing the latch.

 

It was here, Oh Dearly Bemused, that the diabolical devil dice duly dispensed disaster (Six Ha!).

He who should never be named, spotted a flour scuff to the left and off we merrily went. Another (dubious) mark beside a bridge reinforced the opinion that we were Shirley on trail but...

 

Confidence began to wane as the highway was reached with no further marks and we turned to Ernie for advice and the way home as the black-attired Bird crow flies.

 

Back we spurred like madmen and a half mile later arrived - back at the railway crossing... sigh.

The Bird threw a tantrum and was loath to embark on another circuit, but gently did they cajole him once more unto the crossing - or close the wall up with our hashing dead.

 

The Groundhog Day (1993) was overwhelming as we came to that far side turn.

And there it was, as plain as plain could be, a crystal clear, ghastly white flour mark on the grass - indicating right.

 

Four pairs of eyes glared accusingly at the Bird who immediately began to wail - not with the guilt but with the realization that there was now another two miles to get to the beer.

 

Singalong with me please to the Bryan Ferry classic:

Let's stick together, come on, come on, let's stick together

You know we made a vow to leave one another never

 

And they Shirley did not leave one another, collecting Rambo on the last climb back into Highweek.

The Famous Five who had endured, received a ticker-tape welcome as they triumphantly entered the pub car park.

 

I need a beer.

 

DOWNDOWNS IN THE HIGHWEEK INN

A paucity of awards to dispense and only the Horse Head Hat on show but never mind, thine RA Forrest weaved and waffled as the seated hash scoffed their bangers and fries.

 

A sympathy award to the Bird - listed as a 'returnee' by MP, so long has he been away.

 

That old chestnut 'parking' was cited as the misdemeanour and MP was in the frame for revving and reversing his lady wife's 'Kensington canoe' in and around the slanting chariot tether.

 

The Song Master was given the nod and such was the delivery, MP choked and had difficulty recovering his composure to down the Raven abv 3.8.

 

The heavily censored version of the song herewith:

'He's stupid, he's stupid,

He's really ****ing dumb,

If it wasn't for his mother,

He'd be a spot of c**e!'

 

Two halves of Raven for the hares turned into an impromptu downdown competition with Only Here false starting and having to top up his glass which gave a slight advantage to the Grand Master to take the honour.

 

POSTSCRIPT

With Dog End poorly, Only Here for the Beer called in Shitfaced to assist. I was most relieved about the predominantly road trail and may not have ventured out if advised it was rough cross-country terrain.

 

Yes, it was mainly my mistaka that took our Band of Brothers on our unadvertised long split. 'A hasher of your experience missing that..' was Ernie's take as we sighted the clear mark second time around. But we had a fun time out there and grateful was I for the company of Strap-On, Ernie, Pisswell and SM Ellie.

 

Well done the hares!

 * As played by the late Gregory Sierra (see photo) who was Puerto Rican by descent. A frightening chase scene ensues through the jungle, with Antonio and Papillon pursued by Indian trackers with blowpipes. Antonio does not run, he lopes but is still quicker than Papillon (Steve McQueen) who runs conventionally. The scene left a lasting memory and was recalled recently when I found myself unable to run after adductor injury.

•  

** HHH = Hasher health hazard

 

On-On to next week and Manaton Village Hall; meet at the Church car park. Hare Pisswell will arrange beer and scoff so no need to BYO.