DYLAN AND THE BONZO DOGS BANNED!

Run #2026 Monday 24th June

Hare: Beeflicker, most ably assisted by Squeaky Bum

 

This bumfuzzling twattle basket contains: the apocryphal, the wildly inaccurate, the vague and, possibly, some truth. 

 

Names have been changed to protect the guilty. Gabriel, the principal recording angel, won't be bothered by any of this. 

 

(Those who are allergic to, or who are otherwise affected by the truth, have only themselves to blame and should not expect others to change their behaviour merely to suit them.)

 

T'was hot and moonless that early evening in June. A pair of slubberdegullions, by the name of Pisswell and Beefy, sat on a bench by the gate of St Mary's parish Church awaiting the arrival of others of their ilk: scobberlotchers all!

 

Cheerio Beerio, Big End, Psycho and Wet Fart were observed skippering their tenders in the vague hope of finding a suitable mooring. Time passed. Gradually, the snollygosters and ninnyhammers of TVH3 gathered and greeted one another.

 

The Hash comprised, in no particular order: Piltdown Man, Georgie P'Orgy with Chocka, SMEllie, Cheerio Beerio, Satnav, Wet Fart, Slip on Me with Boo, Justin with Dylan, Well Hopped, Big End, Rodger the Dodger with Ned, Beeflicker, Piddler, Coldtits, Warm Front, Psycho, Pisswell and Beefy. Elsewhere, Squeaky Bum was lurking.

 

GM Shitfaced was absent, as was Vice-bishop U Bend so, former GM, Piltdown Man was called upon to take charge of proceedings.

 

There were announcements: It was pointed out that Pisswell has returned from her travels; Wet Fart reported that Teapot's progress is slow, but positive, and has walked up the road and back, accompanied and using a stick instead of a frame; Doris says "Hi" and hopes to return to the Hash using her frame.

SMEllie merely asked for someone to write the Words, in Man Pig's absence. Beefy was nominated by his black-hearted, poker-back, nutcracker pseudo-wife: there was much jeering, cheering and laughter. You're not laughing now, are you?

 

Over to the Hare. Your chronicler missed some of what he said because a steam whistle was still going off in his head. Two, four and six miles, I think, were mentioned. Chalk and flour on the right so, ignore left hand side marks.

 

"On that way!" we were informed so, we set off along Drew Street, into Milton Street and left into Southdown Hill only to be called back by the Hare (who accompanied the Front Runners in order to mark the chalk checks, in the correct direction, with flour) to direct us into Upton Manor Road which became the boundary of Saint Mary's Park.

 

A check saw us into the park where we passed a bowling green and tennis courts, after which we descended some steps to leave the park. A short trot led us to the rear of Saint Mary's Church and we entered the yard via a pedestrian gate.

 

We arrived at a check and Beefy went left only to find, of all things, in a church yard, a cross!

 

Back on Trail, the Hare pointed out a rarity (thankfully) in the form of a female War grave. On on we continued through the houses, across a small park to emerge on the coast path above Saint Mary's Bay.

This took us on to Mansands via Sharkham Point and we were treated to spectacular views of the wine-dark sea as it rested on the familiar but nonetheless captivating coastline.

 

On the descent to the beach, I passed SMEllie and that scobberlotcher Piddler whom congratulated me on having knees that work.

 

When we arrived at the beach, Psycho decided to use the sea to wash her head at us. I wish I had cooled off in similar fashion for, the next part of the Trail was the notorious climb to Challeycroft Road.

The pre-Circle chat had, in part, been about the [lack of] parking. 

 

Beeflicker had mentioned, gnomically, that his example of Henry Ford's less embarrassing creations had been abandoned in a field. 

 

All was made clear now, including Squeaky Bum's absence from the Circle, for it was she who was manning the beer, cider, sweetie and crisp stop. Nobody wanted to leave.

 

Most of the walkers didn't get there as they were off on a folly of their own, according to Slip on Me who could not persuade the others... their loss!

 

SMEllie was the first to leave and your chronicler did the same shortly afterwards. The remaining Trail wound through the suburban landscape of Higher Brixham and back to the On Down.

 

The pub was welcoming to those with a maximum of two legs so, Dylan and the Bonzo Dogs were, indeed, banned.

 

At the Circle, the number of RAs present was noted. They were counted again at the On-down. The consistent total was zero. Perhaps this is why there were no Down-downs. The truth is that I simply do not know.

 

Coldtits was the subject of some concern and, I believe, was picked up by Beeflicker, after having ended up erroneously on the Longs. 

 

We all went out; we all came back; we all enjoyed the bit in between.

 

Thanks Beeflicker and Squeaky Bum.

 

On on until next week! Beefy.

 

Post scriptum: I'll never do this again.

Post post scriptum: never say never.

 

Next week: We are at the Church House Inn at Stokeinteignhead with Poacher.