TVH3 The Words for 23rd June 2025

 

Cold East Cross (thence Rugglestone)

Run No. 2081

Tit for Twat

HARE: Beefy (alias Michael Fish)

 

Who wuz there: Beefy, Pocket Rocket, Man-Pig, Forrest Stump, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Coldtits, Beeflicker, Wet-Johnny, Warm Front, Fukarewe, Miss'ing, Melonpicker, Soapy, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Polyfella, Strap-On, Strap-Dancer, Poacher, Wood-Lend & girlfriend (she must have a name by now)

 

Circle

The Beefy weather forecast posts on Facebook did not flatter to deceive. It was a bit blowy and a tad chilly at the appropriately named, Cold East Cross. Some heeded the Beefocast and dressed appropriately. Some didn't. Amongst the latter were Warmfront and Beeflicker. The lightly clad Warmfront returned to her car and donned a foxy top to keep warm whilst, at the other end of the spectrum, Beeflicker decided that a T-shirt was a layer too much....it takes all sorts..... and sometimes just shorts!

 

A late Smellie dictated that announcements were brief. Pisswell put in a plug for the Widecombe barn dance and TVH's post barn dance hash this Sunday morning at 10am - this will be run no. 2082. The following day will be Pisswell's trail from Pisswell's abode (direction on the TVH3 FB page).

 

The Pig asked for a volunteer for The Words. Never in the field of Hashing history has a Circle fell so quiet for so many for so long. Cheerio Beerio "volunteered" by raising her left hand.....an itchy ear or annoying fly perhaps? This was quickly followed by a refusal and 4 points thus ensuring that the Pig would be stand-in scribe.

 

So, over to the Hare. Beefy explained the usual three trails with a Long of sixish. Walkers two and a bit and the Shorts....err....well...in between. We would see cows, sheep and perhaps grouse...protected until 12 August but I have no idea who, if anyone, has shooting rights on the moor (answers on a postcard please to Little Lord Fauntleroy, Man-Pig Mansions, Kingskerswell.

 

Trail

Beefy points out the first Long/Short & Walkers' split from the car park. Poacher leads the Longs at breakneck speed towards Buckland Beacon and then promptly stops. The knee injury that he picked up from his trail at Manaton is still playing up. He makes his own way back to his truck and foregoes the pub.

 

The Longs is almost an out & back trail to the car park and we are soon catching up with the Shorts and the Walkers. We all cross a small granite footbridge comprising three granite marker posts. All except Pocket Rocket who elects for the vehicular bridge. This has walls to prevent the unwary from falling into the brook....current depth 1 inch (that's 25.4mm in new money).

 

Soon we are on a loop around the butts for the disused rifle range before our descent down a wide track, across a lane and thence the second L/S split. The Long's loop comes round and almost converges with the Walkers' and Shorts' trail; two parallel paths running between the lane and the brook.

 

The marks are good until we get to Weston Cottage and a sign marked "Private" and no obvious signs of flour. Missing, Pisswell, Man-Pig and Forrest Stump can hear calling but no marks. We back track and get on trail. We are now back tracking the outward trail towards the car park.

 

Almost at the car park, we see a line of fluorescent shirts in the far distance. They are ascending the broad footpath towards Rippon Tor. Although the wind is brisk, the pack appears to have warmed up sufficiently to shed their outer layer. How bright they shine under the setting sun.

 

Forrest and I are last but still have time for a photo shoot atop the Tor and catch up with Pocket Rocket and Cheerio Beerio. Now it is all downhill.

 

At the "pub", Beefy is distributing cider from the back of his car. Tail-end-charlies are now Soapy, Melonpicker, Man-Pig, Pocket Rocket and Cheerio Beerio. Forrest has made his own way back to to the car park with Mitch.

 

The trail back to the cars is straightforward and marked in ancient granite posts. I wonder if these predated the road parallel? Our ever responsible Hare is already back and ensuring that everyone is accounted for before we jump in our wagons and head for the Rugglestone.

 

Down-Downs

Pig is RA and, for a change, we have three awards. First of all, we thank the Hare for the beer...it must be costing him a fortune.

 

Ladies first as Coldtits stands up to allocate the Jester's hat. In spite of missing the Circle, Coldtits had both read and heeded the Beefocasts. Unlike our bare chested Beeflicker. The Beermeister is present so we are treated to "He's alright. He's alright. A little flat chested but alright. Down. Down. Down.

Next we have Wet-Johnny. He has the new propeller cap. There is a story about a setting sun, a full moon and a dribbler frothing at the mouth at the sight of the full moon. I didn't notice any full moon at 7.15pm a mere two days after the summer solstice. Shirley some mistaka? No mistaka. Piltdown Man's builder's bum full moon had Soapy all afroth. Our Beermeister leads us all in "Ten toes up and ten toes down".

 

Our Hare has the Union flag stove pipe hat. I think the story is that the trail did not actually lead upto the trig point atop Rippon Tor. Why did it need to? Given its proximity, it was a dead cert that all would take advantage of such a natural view point. All but one - our tee-total GM Pocket Rocket. Coldtits went to the bar to get a glass of water whilst the Songmeister leads us in, "You're stupid. You're stupid. You're so damn dumb. If your Mother hadn't been there you'd be a lump of cum". How flattering.

 

Of course, the hare has to have a DD. But wait. Pisswell has a "new" RA bag and it is full of new RA paraphenalia. Out comes a turd mug and a brown paper bag with holes cut out for eyes, nose and mouth.....but not necessarily tailored for Beefy. It is not a good fit. Nevertheless, the DD is successfully dispatched to the sounds of S.H.I..Y.T.R.A.I.L.

 

Amazingly, and probably in the absence of Psycho, we still have two beers left. So are there any stories?

 

Forrest has one about a bad samaritan. One of our Hashers came across a prone Forrest on trail. What was he doing? Having just passed the rifle butts was he practicing his prone position? Instead of offering assistance, our samaritan embarked on a series of questions worthy of the Spanish inquisition.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why are you on your arse?"

"How long have you been here?"

"Do you have authority to be here?"

Whilst Forrest re-attaches his leg he humbly mumbles, "I fell over".

So who is our uncharitable inquisitor? Man-Pig.

 

The final half. Our RA simply asks, "Did anyone fall over this evening?" The final half is already making it's way towards Forrest's outstretched hand!

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is from Pisswell's abode (see FB page for exact location). Our Hare is, surprisingly, Pisswell.

 

On-On to next week MP