A CHARLTON HESTON AT THE TALLY HO!

Run #1783 Mon 25th Feb at The Tally Ho! Littlehempston, Totnes with Hares Coldtitz & Bobbiball

It was back to the charming Tally Ho! at Littlehempston that the TV bandwagon sallied to be regaled by new tenants Mike and 'Kickboxer' Kelly, not forgetting their adorable Basset hound Betty. Are you sitting comfortably? Then once more unto the breach, dear friends all..

Chariots of the TVH legion crammed into the compact CP of the former Bolton Arms* for what would subsequently be known as the Charlton Heston** hash, Harry. Oh Shirley yes, Dearly Oblivious, this EPIC in the making would give Ben-Hur and the Ten Commandments a run for their money. So, as Calvera*** would say, 'Read on' or was it 'ride' on? Never mind, back to the car park I say..

Famous faces familiar were espied in tantalising glimpses before being swallowed up again in the eerie swirling maelstrom of forty five assembled hashers.

And there was Beefy at last, he came back, a hasher like him. Big Raf back from a footballing shoulder injury; Ipplepenners Roxanne & young Harry****, Manopause, Erection and WJ; Forrest with his new, highly secret, supersonic ski prototype; virgins Tom, Mark, Bert (and returnee Ernie [sic] who drove the fastest milk cart in Tamar H); Poacher in repaired chariot; the National X country heroes Deep Throat and Grinder and, as befitting an EPIC, a supporting cast of dozens... Wait for it, it's Shirley showtime.

Procurator Piltdown demanded order and predictably had an Oscar themed question for the plebeians packed before him, Harry. Difficult to see what was occurring in the maddened throng, but eventually the director of the EPIC, one Mary Sturgess (yes, and possibly a distant relative of that director of epics aplenty, John Sturges) stepped up to the Roman oche accompanied by a bewheeled Bobby. Already an air of excitement prevailed and the crowd hushed in anticipation.. (I think it's going quite well so far SM Ellie, what do you think?)

The EPIC edict was proclaimed: FOUR TRAILS! A long, medium and short plus the now obligatory walkers' route (as fanatically supported by Teapot, Wet Fart, Only Here and other unnamed suspects) and the estimated distances elicited gasps from some - especially the Magnificent Seven Mile long HA! Also included was a Sherry and Cheese stop somewhere out there in the wilds, Winfield.
A prancing idiot could be discerned on the periphery of the crowd displaying his £140 Nike EPIC React Flyknit road cruising shoes to all and sundry - more on this and the EPIC fail of the Supersonic Ski foot later HA! I'm enjoying this rubbish now...

If he had only bothered to listen, the Pillock would have heard Bobby reveal the intricacies of the extra loop for the longs which a nameless buffoon had assisted in laying two hours previously..
The gates of the ancient stockade were flung open and a myriad array of dazzling head torches appeared at the entrance and first check.

Cunning indeed was the hares' design which flummoxed all before the longs surged out of the woods by the Pig & Whistle and across the main road, Berry Pomeroy bound.
Poacher/Cider led, pursued by a resurgent Beefy, Deep Throat and a t-shirt clad Nike EPIC cruising Bat. They were joined by serial FRB Whisperer, (didn't see him at the circle Cyril) Grinder and Forrest's buddy Tom. Out onto the road (becycled Bobby: 'How did you get here so quickly?) and downhill the Nike EPIC shoes kicked in (I get paid 10P every time I write that) taking the Bat to the front (yes, it was a race you fools) and prompting a 'Here we go!' from Deep Throat who, along with Grinder, Shirley wanted an easy time of it after Saturday's exertions (and beer celebrations afterwards).

All along, down along, out along lea coursed the merry longs and many twists and turns did they make as they inexorably closed with the ruins of Berry Pomeroy castle and the riddle of the loop..
Bobby: 'Don't ask questions Bluebird, just lay the loop down there, turn right onto the road, round the lake and back up to the castle. I'll meet you there.'

'Well, we suddenly came across the loop after already going round the lake from another direction and knowing we were now going down to the lake yet again, I halted Beefy, Manpig and Wet Johnny and warned that we were going round for a second lap. Seven minutes later, we arrived at the same point.' Aghast was the Bat: 'I'm NOT going down there AGAIN!' But Beefy had finally solved the riddle. 'Yes, we WILL go down there AGAIN but we'll turn left this time and that will let us escape this disaster you have got us into!' We had now been joined by Ernie, Bert and Sugar Puff (come to think about it, where did WJ and Manpig disappear to?) and you know what? Beefy was right and there was Coldtitz and Bobby, manning the Sherry & Cheese stall and asking where on earth we had been.

Now before I forget and I know you're dying to find out, Dearly Inquisitive, what had happened to our Hash Hero Forrest - he of the secret supersonic ski foot? We-ell, he covered about two miles before deciding that it just wasn't going to work and returned to change back to the old ski foot - four miles in the bag. But that wasn't the end of it as Forrest then set off again onto the trail and I still haven't found out how many miles he covered in the end but he did arrive back at the pub a long time after the DDs. Back to the drawing board for the supersonic ski.. Rebuilding the Bionic Forrest is taking more time than we thought.

I also heard tell of an alarming tale regarding Slip on Me. Details are scarce but apparently she had to be rescued after somehow taking the long trail! Quite understandably, Slip on Me didn't want to dwell on the scary details.

The Nike EPIC shoes were a rip roaring success - up to the time where their limitations were exposed in the mired depths of Gatcombe Brook just below the A381 ... sigh.

The Tally Ho! was snug and welcoming with good old Dartmoor Legend on tap along with Red Rock Dark Ness 4.5 ABV (excellent DD ale) and an ale I couldn't recall sampling (Archangel: 'You're slipping Bluebird.') Exeter Brewery's organic Avocet ale 3.9 ABV. Hash chilli was available and Mike and Kelly did us proud, didn't they just.

Coldtitz and EPIC Director Mary Sturgess, ably assisted by Bobby had scripted a classic trail which we enjoyed immensely and was well worth their efforts even though you both know that it was nearly the end of me!

TALLY HO! DD AWARDS
Poacher (Hashit shirt) to Bluebird for getting his prized new shoes ruined on the muddy trail.
Sugar Puff (should have been Horsey Horseface hat) to Camel Toe for forgetting to bring the Horse Head Hat from last week.
Bobbiball (prized Ceremonial Bat Hat) to Shitfaced for overtaking someone on Trail at last!
Hare Coldtitz for requesting lager from the pub as the best drink for the Hash.
Hare Bobbiball using his bike to lay the those confusing trail marks.

*Bolton Arms from 1850-1955
**An EPIC you fools
***You're not paying attention, the Mexican bandit from The Magnificent Seven.
****Roxanne's little lad (still trying to make sense of it all).

ON ON to next week and the Star at Liverton with Soapy & Melon Picker.

SHOELESS & CLUELESS ON THE WIG WAM WIGGLE

Run #1782 Mon 18th Feb. The Keyberry Arms Newton Abbot with Wig Wam Wiggle

Hello, night owl SM Ellie from the nocturnal Bat - you that are always the first to read.

Ah, the good old Keyberry, yes, we old timers remember it well. Playfully chucking Poacher's king caulis at each other, Flip Flop (talented Pillock he) pouring beer over Bluebird's anti DD suit - yes, the Good Old Hashes of Yore indeedy, but distract me not from my purpose of casting illumination on the forthcoming chaotic content Cyril..

Quickie observation notes: Return of Archangel (moved house); Mouldy Dick (finally let out to play); Piddler (just out of traction recovering from an 11 mile hash); U Bend and Slobbadog. No Raf (football injury); Roxanne (ill); WJ (Washington); Poacher (broke down en routey). Parkies mob handed with Shitfaced, T Humper & Spud, Slobbadog and Cums Too Late; scouting force of Ipplepenners - Manopause and Erection and gaily attired girls section of Rise 'n Shine, Tear Arse and Mateus Rose. The TBGS speedsters, Hugo and Ben present virgin Will to the circle and baptism by flour. Roll called at forty three.

Winfield sadly related the passing of one of our past warriors Tooth Prick or Howard the dentist. One by one we fall but are fondly remembered, fellow hashers and dear friends all.

Birthday boy Wiggsy announced a 2 L/S splits trail + SS and a hinted promise (or veiled threat depending on your courage mes braves) of some shiggy and he Shirley wasn't smiling..

The hare then abruptly and unexpectantly retired inside the Keyberry to confer with the management about the hash grub and left the pack to fend for themselves without so much as an ON ON. Like lost sheep they cavorted in the pale moonlight before order was restored with a cry: 'ON ON is that way!' 'Who says?' retorted a Doubting Thomas. 'I says!' quoth the Bat, who sometimes, if rarely, had an idea or three.

Fukarwi and Manpig, thus resummoned, tore back down the road - to be passed by U Bend and the Bat going the other way, sigh.

It was a classic case of 'Head 'em off at the pass Percy' as the devious duo (U Bend: 'I got into bad company') suddenly appeared as if by Bat Magic in front of the flying Grammar Boys HA and DOUBLE HA!

Their leader Ben, swept past, but failing to spot the first L/S split had to be recalled by the Wily Bat. It was interesting to see the super FRBs in action at close quarters and back and forth they surged at various checks, seeking the trail, interspersed by much shouting at each other. 'You fool, it wasn't down there, I'm not ruddy following you again!' and various other words of gentle encouragement.

Thus continued the merriment until, plunging down a path, there appeared the Ice Cream lady** dispensing chocolate caramels in the foyer with the stern commissionaire Piltdown overseeing the operation Ollie.

If the Bat was wily, then the Wig Wam Wiggle was the God of Sly and there was devilment in his trail design out there that night oh Dearly Soon to be Frustrated...

Through the meandering and idle chatting shorts did the FRBs weave until the trail inexplicably petered out and hashers, both longs and shorts scattered in search of clues that were not easy to find Fukarwi.. 'Clueless in the Country Park' to be released later this month.

Several minutes later, the ON ON was called and the fast boys were not seen - ever again.. Indeedy, nary a long was bat sighted from then onwards.

Legend has it that splinter groups made the Wolborough church and thence into the savage slurry hash killing fields of terror. Ben, now soloing (again) heard a very rude word shouted from said slurry - Sugar Puff had lost a shoe and was reduced to diving into the diarrhoeal depths to retrieve his footwear.. oh woeful night, how canst you treat me so?

Now we haven't had a song for some time and I know you love a ditty, so singalong with me if you please oh Dearly Beslurried:
Hashers and harriets and bats better scurry
When Wigwam takes you out in the slurry
When Wigwam takes you out in the slurry with the flour on top!*** OLE!

Meanwhile, back in the woods, a mournful cry didst manifest itself from the depths of Decoy's Black Lagoon. The emanation came from the abomination that was the Lesser Blue Bat. Caught in a film set of Groundhog Day, the Bat was embarking upon his third lap of the same long split and was, as ever, delirious and babbling insanely 'It can't be true, oh déjà vu.' Bobby and Dozy Parrot heard the Bat screech and paused in their dithering meander. A few moments later and the Bat, hanging onto the bank for dear life, emerged, Bat Hat askew and muddified beside the not surprised Bobby and Dozy Parrot. Gently did they lead him back across the playing fields and the safe haven of the pub.

The inevitable Stewards Enquiry klaxon was sounded soon after shell-shocked survivors returned to their chariots Charlene. They all had a sorrowful tale to relate and not one hasher could confidently state that they had completed the long splits on offer. The final scoreline read: Hare 42 Hashers 0 and oh Dearly Demented, the living Leg End that is Wig Wam Wiggle had Shirley committed an unprecedented Birthday Hash outrage that would be whispered in the Hash Halls of Infamy for years to come...****

Inside the jazzed up Keyberry and the only game in town was the Tribute (at a reasonable £3.50 a gogo) as previous residents had drunk the Doom Bar dry over the weekend. The management of Dave and Linda had also put on a hash menu of good ol' bangers and chips at 3 1/2 sovs a throw. Hashers comfified themselves in the back room snug and awaiting the entertainment, busied themselves filling out the Awards forms.

The 'entertainment' resulted in the following as awarded by RA Mouldy:
The "AWARDS",on our 1782nd Trail from The Keyberry Arms Newton Abbot. with Hare Wigwam, who was celebrating his Birthday, was one that some will never forget......
...like SUGAR PUFF (Horsey Horseface Hat) who had his shoe sucked off in that mud!
BEN (Bat Hat) - yet to be named who didn't kick the checks out for those in his slipstream.(or to stay ahead?)
MOULDY DICK (ceremonial Bat Hat) who signed his E-valentine "From your Wife"
Man O'Pause who claimed his 50 Runs badge at last!
WIGWAM a Birthday DD from those who are washing their clothes etc today!

What can I say oh Wiggers m'dear.. A good time was had by all and a true baptism of mud and tears for the novices. How I wished I could have made the Slurry Killing Fields once more - how I envied those that did. Happy Birthday and many more old buddy.

*Yes, a horse named Wig Wam Wiggle ran Monday afternoon in the 2:30 at Carlisle and finished third but made me a wallet pleasing £106.
**Wigwam you fools
***From the original 'The Surrey with a Fringe on Top'
****Did you like that? No? Well please...

ON ON to next week and The Tally Ho at Littlehempston, Totnes (Coldtitz & Bobbiball)

AN EXOTIC ASS, A PISS-UP IN A BREWERY & FORREST COPSE* IT IN THE WOOD

Run #1781 Monday 11th February from the Red Rock Brewery, Higher Humber Farm, Bishopsteignton. Hares: T.Humper, I-Poo'd & Shitfaced

Well, Dearly Beloved, we Shirley had it all Monday night at the Red Rock Brewery high in the hills above Bishopsteignton:
A second edition of the famed Alcoholic Sweetie Stop; beer gushing at two squid a pint; pies to die for; mud mayhem on a 4 star shiggy trail and a right rollicking TVH piss up in a brewery afterwards - Oh Shirley, I must have died and gone to hash heaven.

Roll called at 41 - with a good few returnees including Pisswell, Ben & Hugo, our Polish contingent of Raff, Abscess plus entourage and a pink shoed virgin, Nicole. Welcome all.

Par for the course was the sometimes hectic and always disorganised circle up as the partygoers became restless for action.

The hash hares elaborated a two L/S split trail with an exotic ASS** plus a de rigueur walkers' trail. A show of hands was asked for to see how many pie eaters were present and then the motley crew flew the brewery HA!

Movers Ben and Hugo glided past on the early flat tarmac section ahead of the Poacher/Cider combo and a balaclava clad Blue Bat*** and the usual pecking order was set. But if I knew then what I knew afterwards, I would Shirley have stayed with Fukarwi, WJ et al.

As we turned left into a muddy path, the trail of shorts could be seen above us on the left and cutting across to intercept the longs. At a crossroads unkicked out check and Hugo was hesitating - running buddy Ben had already gone beyond recall and had a glorious Napoleon Solo. 'Which way did Poacher go?' enquired the Bat. Hugo indicated straight ahead and off they sped in hot pursuit. Two marks later and nothing after, it didn't seem right and back they coursed to find a large group of shorts waiting for the scouts. After ruling out their approach, the only option was hard right and the chase was on again Agatha. We never did confirm where Poacher had gone and he wasn't sighted after so suspicions began to form Fukarwi..

A high speed descent down a steep, slippery and muddy path saw the Bat crash land into a hedge but fortunately only ThreeSum spotted the idiot and she sportingly didn't drop the Bat in it.
Winfield was spotted legging it like a good 'un with SM Ellie and apparently back in business after a few niggles, go for it Dad!

Most embarrassingly, three heavyweight hashers, big Jon, Abscess and Raff, shaded the Bat to the summit of a gentle incline. WHAT!

Climbing up another muddy path, BroadS and Bat could see the FRBs up ahead and finally all were reunited at the ASS and what exotic fare was on offer: Margarita cake balls made with tequila, triple sec and white chocolate with a lime garnish plus Pink gin with white chocolate fudge. AHHH and Wet Johnny, who had been struggling before, took off with the alcohol infusion to his turbo.
The last L/S split saw Fukarwi, Wet Johnny, Manpig, Forrest, BroadS and Bat go safari and what a beaut section it was Winfield: Shirley Shiggy, downhill gully galore, tarmac and a final hill to the OH. Said split saw the complete destruction of Forrest Stump who copsed [sic] it in the woods big time. A calamitous collision with a root nearly wrecked his ski foot and a few hundred metres farther on his other shoe completely disintegrated.

Inside the Red Rock and sporting a gashed and bandaged elbow from a previous tumble, we will now have to rebuild Forrest Stump. We have the technology, we can make him better than he was, better, stronger, faster... No? Well please yourselves then.

Courtesy of Forrest's tech, the trail was certified as 4.8 miles but the brewery beer beckoned Bertie.
Red Rock baby and hashers soon became pie-eyed**** supping Lighthouse ale 3.8 ABV and Red Rock ale 4.2 ABV.

T Humper, I-Poo'd and Shitfaced (four trails in as many weeks) had set a rattling good trail and laid on pies galore plus the much lauded Margarita cake balls and Pink gin fudge. I doff my Bat Hat to you all!

DOWNDOWNS
The AWARDS, from our 1781st Trail at The Red Rock Brewery with Hares T.Humper I.Pood assisted by Shitfaced (again!) were presented to the following offenders....
T.HUMPER (hare DD) for that muddy gasping hilly trail, which we all enjoyed! especially those alcoholic sweets!
THREESUM (Horsey horseface hat) who received the panto queen down down!
"Oh yes she did"!
POACHER (Hashit shirt) who definitely Short cutted the trail this time!
BOBBIBALL (Bat hat) why was he wearing a Welsh rugby shirt?
SHITFACED (hare nominated DD) ..someone ate all of the pies we ordered?
*Sic, but then you tiny cult followers Shirley† knew that didn't you?

**Alcoholic Sweetie Stop you fools
***Bat hat in Manpig's boot
****It had to be done.
†Shirley that's enough Shirleys in this episode Bobby. (He complained that there was only one Shirley last week.)

ON ON to next week and the Keyberry Arms, Newton Abbot. A Birthday Hash for our hare Wigwam.

THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD

Run # 1780 Monday 4th February at The Park Inn, Kingskerswell Newton Abbot with Hares: Shitfaced & Threesum.

And hallelujah! Got my first question right! Piltdown's question was of the standard gauge (railway) width. Manpig jumped in with 4ft 6 1/2 inches first which prompted my memory to counter with 4 ft 8 1/2 inches. Shared the pint with him. Where were you Beefy? This one was for you.

A host of visitors cum virgins crowded into the circle: Anita (Park barmaid) shepherding three girls and a Polish contingent brought along by returnee hasher Abscess. Co hare Threesum made a welcome return from Pantoville and there was a palpable feeling of excitement in the air.

Recall Teapot announcing that 40 + hashers had made the circle, the number augmented by late arrivals Deep Throat and Grinder and probably just as well that they gave us a head start.

The ever important hare information imparted was of a two L/S split trail, a walkers' trail and a sweetie/mulled cider stop. However, there was an ominous rider: 'It's a runners' trail...' from which the FRBs deduced that it was going to be long and tough - bring it on, the warriors chanted! Brave words - but we didn't appreciate how tough it would be out there and The Long and Winding Road* would Shirley take its toll...

Shitfaced did it again, or rather Poacher and the Bat did it to themselves. Steaming down the hill after the start, they careered up the hill past the first check to encounter the return arrows from the OH! By the time the disgraced duo (+ Cider) had rectified the early blunder**, the FRBs and longs had flown the coop. It would take some time to get back oh Dearly Beloved.

Turning towards the church was another error though checks were still not kicked out and it was catch up time again as we coursed down the side of the Expressway, eventually turning off to cut past the Barn Owl and up across the Newton Road boondocks bound.

At last hashers were sighted up the gravelled Yew Tree Walk flanking the quarry. The Polish crew, then SM Ellie and BroadS were seen and then Mateus Rose without buddy Rise 'n Shine at that point. It was a recurring theme, coming across various shorts and longs all intermixed - a sign of a sound trail lay by the hares.

And there were the chatting pair Woof Woof and All the Way and Poacher explained his Facebook spam episode before we drifted past. Around a corner and there was Coldtits who advised that the SS was yet to come and she was on the short trail - all confusing, but it was that sort of trail, you never knew what was coming next or who was around the next corner. Loved it Shitfaced and Threesum!

As Shitfaced observed, it was a veritable Tour de Pubs, taking in the Barn Owl, Linny, Hare & Hounds and finally, of course, the Park.

BroadS & SM Ellie had a torrid time of it. After missing the right turn down Daccombe Mill Lane, they ploughed straight on past the Linny before back tracking and incurring a mile plus penalty. They both did remarkably well to continue and eventually complete the long trail. Ninety five minutes and 7.65 miles later, they made the welcoming blue glow sign of the Park.

Cruel indeed was the left turn at the bottom of Fluder Hill with the Park just a heartbeat away. Manpig, suffering with a heel blister, ran up the white flag soon after and headed for an early bath (well shower then). Compensation awaited the bravehearted with the welcoming SS cum mulled cider stop chez Threesum.

The trail continued out along the A380 and across into the back lane jungle of wildest Whilborough.

On and on we endured and the petrol gauge blinked red on the Batmobile***. Delusion set in, we would be out here forever. Poacher realising that his running buddy was starting to weave and stagger enquired 'Are you all right mate?' which of course he plainly was not. A bright light appeared astern and suddenly Deep Throat surged past (the bar steward) - clearly on a mission. Into the closing stages and it was now a case of mind over matter - I wasn't going to give in however long the trail. We were joined approaching the blessed OH marker by Ding Dong and Brock and where they had come from goodness knows but we all ran in together, three hashers, Cider and Brock and I know who was Shirley Shattered..

Into the CP they dribbled, Forrest, Fukarwi, Grinder, Woof Woof, All the Way, BroadS, SM Ellie + of course Deep Throat, Poacher and Ding Dong - heroes all**** and Forrest asked how far I thought it was. 'A good six' was my estimate and Forrest thought more like six and a half. Consulting his tech, the legend read 6.53, good judge that lad. An upbeat Winfield was chuffed with running the 'short' trail of over three miles.

The Gun Dog at a wallet friendly £3.30 was the weapon of choice and a hash chilli was on offer. Good to see #69 in the pub - a rare occurrence as he didn't have his usual early start the next day. Think Wiggers was content with the score draw of his Liverpool and Bobby didn't make it as he had an evening in with Vatman.

What a trail and what an evening, quite simply, thank you hares.

One more thing in closing, take good care of my Vampire Bat Manpig - it's not a hash hat yet - still a cherished pet.

The "Awards" from Shitfaced & Threesum's Trail #1780, from The Park Inn Kingskerswell, were presented to the following offenders....

COLDTITZ for suggesting Fukawe should use a strap on his Award hat well.... she will need it now!

MANPIG who nipped home to wash his hair after the Trail!

FUKARWI heard panting heavily chasing after those younger Hashers!

SHITFACED a reward for yet another excellent trail.....

not forgetting Threesums excellent Cider+stop!

*Lennon & McCartney naturally.

**My fault, I was being clever as I had seen marks driving past, Pillock that I Shirley am.

***Come on, I had to do it.

****Apologies if I missed anyone out.

Wet Fart hits 1000 !

At last !  Wet Fart celebrates as he receives his 1000Runs badge.....

WETFART'S THOOSAND* RUN BADGE, IT'S ALL GREEK TO FUKARWI & FROM TRIBUTE TO TRIBUTARY

Run # 1779 Monday 28th January from the Court Farm Inn at Abbotskerswell with Hares: Only Here/Beer & Shitfaced

Commander RoUbeN Trotsky screamed in delight! 'I have him now, the Bobby Woll is mine!' Yes, it was true, Bobby had indeed been caught with his pants down outside his Panzer and would have to make a run for it. Hashing tonight would Shirley have to be put on hold....**

Ah well, back to reality my little Rottweilers. Once a regular venue for TVH, the Court Farm Inn had subsequently been neglected and I had carefully looked at the map before setting off. However, I still managed to get lost and had a slight misunderstanding with Manpig's juggernaut as we both homed in on the car park.

Another unlit and dark expanse, though larger than the Goose's dungeon edition, the Court Farm's CP soon filled to overflowing (an unfortunate term which would be revisited later in the pub).

A goodly turnout and forty two was the eventual total though not sure if all ran:

Paraprick with dogs, Ding Dong with Feagle & Brock, Fukarwi, Manpig, Ipplepenners Roxanne, Alicia + one, Manopause, Wet Johnny and Erection, Parkies T Humper & Spud, I-Poo'd, Shitfaced and Fag Ash Lil, Coldtits, All the Way, Woof Woof, Rise N Shine, virgins (?) Hugo and Ben, Doris, Rambo, Wetfart, Winfield, Piltdown, Georgy P, Teapot, Wide Receiver (welcome back old son), Wiggy , Ena, SM Ellie, Will (to be named), Twin Buffers, Hotlips, Zoot, SatNav, Forrest, Soapy & Melon Picker, Only Here, Beefy and BB to name the forty two on show.

Good to see young Wide Receiver back in the fold after illness and also Beefy back in action but sporting a rather large I Pad as no phone.

Not certain if Hugo and Ben were first timers but one thing looked likely lads - they would be able to run a bit..

Shitfaced had kindly stepped in to assist Only Here/Beer and they outlined a trail of four L/S splits before giving the pack their marching orders.

The Bird was on song this week and right from the start went like a Bat out of Hell, spearheading the pack to the first L/S split. Unfortunately, he had to be called back by Forrest after completely missing the first Long split into the playing fields - pleading he was blind as a bat...

The hares had laid an early trap and the FRBs had to fight their way back through the shorts, cursing as they did so.

Along country lane did they saunter, over stile and up rugged path they staggered, until, breasting a rise a check which would lead us to the iniquitous 'fish hook' was espied..

Wide went down the road and it wasn't clear if he actually returned but ON ON was heard up a muddy lane ahead though lights were seen toing and froing. Eventually, the consensus was to go muddy and manifold were they that crammed into the narrow lane. 'A fish hook!' cried a hasher but no number accompanied the little used (by TVH anyway) hash mark. On we pressed but marks no longer could be seen and the FRBs eventually realised they had been had big time Boris and cries of disappointment ensued - loudest (naturally) from an enraged Vampire bat lusting for the blood of the hare responsible for the outrage...***

The infamous 'fish hook' succeeded in shredding the FRB formation. When we got underway once more, there was no sign of Wide or Manpig, who were either behind us or somewhere out in front. 'Normal' service was resumed with the old firm of Fukarwi and Bat Blue tracking Beefy with Wet Johnny and Manopause close behind. Way out in front was Ben, soon to be joined by buddy Hugo who had got snagged up in 'Fish hook' lane - we just have to get those boys drinking to slow them up a bit.

After about two miles, a junction loomed large Larry and lo and behold, there was the Two Mile Oak across the Totnes road. Turning towards Newton Abbot, the longs legged it and visions of the Clock Tower and ASDA began to form afore we veered right and back to the environs of Abbotskerswell.

With a combined age of 130+ the Good Old Boys traded punches - Fukarwi getting away on the hills but pulled back on the flat with Wet Johnny at least completing the long trail this week and on the road to recovery.

Somewhere in the closing stages of the run (you have to give the hares a lot of credit for laying a good, tough, honest trail) came the shocking moment...

A few yards in front, Fukarwi stopped and gazed at a strange hash mark, marked thus: ƎꓤIM . 'You'll have to help me with this one, oh Belfry Bat, it looks like Greek lettering!' The two idiots stared at the odd lettering for a few moments until walking around it, the mark was revealed quite clearly as: WIRE. 'Fukarwi, it reads wire for gawd's sake!' An electrified fence appeared in front of the aged duo, prompting a now belligerent Bat to exclaim: 'Anyway it can't be switched on, the hare would be mad to let us pass!' Reaching out a moist, clammy hand, the Bat clasped the wire and receiving a hefty jolt was thrown onto his back! You had to have been there to see it, believe me oh you long suffering readers.. for I too suffered out there - the price to pay for being the Greatest Pillock that TVH has ever seen****.

At last the OH materialised and soon St Mary's Church could be spotted far down in the valley. A pleasing - if jarring descent and we were back in the car park with a reported 5.9 miles in the bag. Solid trail, thank you, Shitfaced and Only Here!

Inside the Court Farm Inn, a sumptuous spread was laid out for us Henry VIII style, and hashers didn't need encouragement, leaping in to feast like gannets after putting three sovs in the pot. In his eagerness, Wet Johnny upended a pint which flooded a platter. Mopping up and looking furtively about, he muttered 'Who put that pint there, Percival?'

But a far greater disaster was about to happen Harry. The beer loving Bat had just ordered a pint of Tribute and turned away having taken but a sip, Sybil. A few moments later, the pint had gone and a hue and cry (a very serious matter, losing your pint) was about to be invoked. An unnamed harriet sheepishly admitted that she had knocked the amber liquid of life over - a fact confirmed by said Tribute having been converted to a tributary the other side of the bar with the barman mopping up the deluge. A moment later and a barmaid appeared with another pint, prompting the grateful Bat to say: 'How kind, ta very much!' But bad news was swift to follow - the barman tapped the Bat on the shoulder and said 'That'll be £3.80 please!?!' NO-O-O-O-O-O WAY! I don't think that would have happened at the Park, do you lads!

The Downdowns were awarded thus:

WET FART for parking in the disabled bay and probably needed that on reaching 1000 Runs tonight!

FAG ASH LIL the party girl...sometimes a barmaid but tonight turned up in a nurses outfit!

FUKARWI who misread the sign leaving Bluebird to climb the electric fence!... now has the new Bat Hat!

Newsagent (Will, Tim) JIM...now duly anointed! for ever to be known as BROADSHIT

*Not a typo you fools - it sounds so more impressive with a Scottish accent.

**RUN TROTSky, pants down, make a RUN for it - come on do I have to spell it out for you?

***I try so hard for little or no reward.

****This is a paid advertisement by an anonymous subscriber.

ON ON to next week and that hash favourite, the Park Inn, Kingskerswell, Newton Abbot ( Shitfaced & Threesum)

ROTTENFUHRER BOBBY STRIKES AGAIN - FUKARWI DOPE TESTED & WET JOHNNY STRETCHERED OFF

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PANZER BOBBY DEFEATED BUT CLAN CHIEF WET JOHNNY TRIUMPHS

Run #1777 Monday 14th January from the Dartmouth Inn, Totnes. Hare: Wet Johnny

Descending past Berry Pomeroy castle en routey for the Dartmouth Inn, a queue of vehicles materialised. Rounding a corner and the cause of the delay could be discerned. No! It could not be! But yes, it was! There at the head of the queue was a Panzerkampfwagen IV tank, resplendent in khaki livery. At the wheel was a snarling Bobbiball who was in uncompromising mood. Down the Totnes hill and over the cobbles of the Plains chugged the beast before turning for the council car park - but, there was a problem. Above the entry gantry was a height restriction board, probably designed for campers, large vans and.. tanks. Bobby's co pilot Wiggster jumped out and surveying the situation called back: 'You'll be okay Bobby, steady as she goes now..' Yes, it might have been doable but for the rangefinder on top of Bobby's Panzer. Five times did the stubborn Bobby edge forward until finally giving best, he reversed from the tank trap and nearly destroyed the vehicles behind. Defeated yes, but still a classic, I salute you!

But I witter on so back to the hash oh Dearly Bemused:

Ah, the Dartmouth Inn, always a popular watering hole for TVH and the roll call was recorded by Teapot as 38, including returnees John and Hannah, All the Way, Whisperer and our own warrior of the ages Rambo. There were also a few alcohol soaked hashers swaying at the circle - more of them later..

Ipplepen Clan Chief Wet Johnny explained the intricacies of his lay and manifold they were: Was it four or five L/S splits? A SS with spice laden cider to warm the cockles and guesstimated distances of 'less than six miles' for the long and fourish miles for the short trail. Marks laid on the right and three and ON ON!

To the sound of Teapot's horn (supported by a birdbrain) the pack dispersed, eager for the fray. The first L/S split appeared a mere hundred metres away. Onto the bridge we surged and to the first check which beckoned and lured the unwary. A goodly number of hashers took the bait and dropped down to the river bank before being called back - curses, foiled so soon. Rejoining the main body, we were unaware that Whisperer, a known FRB, had chosen correctly and had careered away, opening up a big lead. I don't think he would have heeded the old hash chestnut of 'It's not a race'.

The rest of the FRBs comprising Beefy and Poacher/Cider, Manpig, Woof Woof, All the Way, Manopause and the Bird Blue took up station. If only we had stayed on the river bank as lo and behold, we arrived upstream at the Brutus bridge. Down onto the banks of the Dart and towards the industrial estate we rushed and caught up with Manpig, who, most remarkably - given his intake of eight pints the day before* - was still operating, albeit on impulse power only. Manopause and Melon Picker were also inconvenienced by weekend alcohol consumption so were all living up to the hashing maxim 'Drinkers with a running problem'.

Staying to the fore on any hash trail means choosing right at checks - failure to guess correctly quickly shuffles you to the rear and the effort of catching up soon takes its toll, as serial checker Beefy will tell you. The breakaway Whisperer, still on a 'solo' at halfway, finally guessed wrong and was never sighted again, such was the error. Stout runners Will and SM Ellie had also veered off course and became detached from the pack.

Consistently choosing right were Woof Woof and All the Way who kept up a steady pace while chatting away to each other.
Poacher eventually got to the front but was hampered by his hound Cider who was having great difficulty keeping up with his master.

It did seem that we were always taking in hill after hill and Beefy's strava elevation profile shows how severe the ascent was before plunging us back down into the town.

The welcoming light from the back of Wet Johnny's chariot proved to be the SS and as the longs approached down the tarmac, the shorts appeared simultaneously from a track below. Sheer luck or trail triumph? I leave you, dear readers to make judgement though my vote would go to the second named. To keep the pack together, longs and shorts, demands great skill. And it wasn't a single occurrence, as well into the run we had encountered Coldtits, Erection and several other shorts.

From the SS, it was a swift return on flat tracks, open tarmac and the knee jarring descent back to the pub. The trail was enjoyed and praised by the hash. Nice one Wet Johnny!

On offer in the Dartmouth was Dartmoor Jail at a wallet-pleasing £2.50 a pint.

After the DDs, RAd by a still standing Manpig, the hash dispersed - except for the Ipplepenners who, as is their wont, adjourned to the nook in the corner to hold court and of course imbibe a few more bevvies. We were finally given our marching orders by the new barman who didn't really grasp what hashing was all about - perhaps next time..

The 1777th Awards on 14th Jan. were presented to the following Hashers at The Dartmouth Inn,Totnes......
WET JOHNNY: A well deserved DD after a great trail and that warm cider stop.
BOBBIBALL: (Hashit shirt) Now praying for forgiveness after almost demolishing the CP entrance barriers.
PIDDLER: (Substitute Checkin chicken hat) Standing accused of cutting Short again! raises his pinky finger in disgust !
PILTDOWN: (Horsey Horseface hat) With his Birthday DD, but will he drink it all?..."oh yes he will....!"

*Exeter Chiefs game and yes, they won which explains the celebration eight pints.

ON ON to next week and the Wild Goose at Combeinteignhead with Shitfaced.

A GREAT PHOTO OP AND WHATAMISTAKATOMAKA

Run #1776 Monday 7th January from the Rising Sun at Woodland. Hares Roxanne & Erection ably assisted by Manopause and Wet Johnny.

Paraprick nosed into the Wellington's spacious car park and found a prime space quite easily. Closer inspection revealed a total absence of hashers' chariots and Paraprick checked his watch. A few minutes later and the awful truth sank in. Whatamistakatomaka - though it was a fairly late call by the hares, it was advertised well on FB and website so everyone please make sure you check the venue on the day just in case.

Meanwhile, far away in the land of the Rising Sun*, the jostling for spaces in the car park was apparent even as I approached. The Rising Sun, oh Fukarwi and I remembered it well.. A fleeting decade ago, I had quite easily managed to get us lost in the Woodford depression and we had spent a merry hour or so running back and forth in the lanes trying to find our way home - oh happy days.

I'm rambling again, why didn't you stop me? Back to the action...

The first hash of a brand new year and the usual suspects were flocking together into their crony groups. Manpig, Fukarwi, 69, Bobby, Wigwam, Soapy, Melon Picker, Doris, Piltdown, Teapot, Winfield, SatNav, Coldtits, returnees Fishbait and Knotty, Beefy, Rise N Shine, Mateus Rose, Piddler, Going Down, SM Ellie, the Park crew of Shitfaced, T Humper, Slobbadog and of course the Ipplepenners and hare hosts Roxanne and Erection with supporting Manopause and Wet Johnny plus Will (unnamed for now) and my good self named thirty of the thirty two at the circle I could see. Not sure if Slip on Me was at the circle but she joined us in the pub.

Doris called for February hares and after the usual raucous repartee, the hares were summoned, fronted by Roxanne. The finer points I missed but did remember that the marks were laid on the right before we embarked on the new adventure.

Young bloods Beefy, Manopause and Manpig** and warriors of old, Fukarwi and a resurgent L'Oiseau Bleu shuffled their way to the fore. A notable newcomer also joined us - Will, he of the Teignmouth newsagents and he surprised with his fitness.

Oh joy, they were playing my song, dry roads and on on into the depths of wildest Woodland.

Looking back, the trail of head torches began to string out and soon faded to nothing as the pace lifted. The FRBs were working well, with Beefy, Manopause (back to him later oh Dearly Beloved) and Manpig doing the bulk of the checking whilst we old timers waited patiently to call the ON ON as calls filtered back to us. Beefy was on a helluva roll - four Wong Weis in a row but as the strongest runner on show, he had a good workout making up the lost ground each time.

A mile or so into the run and Fishbait, Knotty and hound, running steadily and strongly, joined the FRBs and the continuing fun. At last Beefy hit pay dirt and once in front, he steadily drew away but his head torch still guided and calls informed.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing and looking back on events, I can now recall Manopause loitering at the checks on the first LS. Unbeknown to us, he had laid this split on the Sunday so was admiring his handiwork en route. I remember at one split asking Manopause to check downhill and he replied coyly 'Isn't that a hash maxim - never check downhill?' Well it was downhill and he knew of course!

We were now on the second long split and were puzzled that checks were kicked out (correctly) in front of us. Beefy and I were fairly certain that we were in front so who dunnit? was the question. We were about to find out as we came off road into a very muddy field and right of way. In front of us we could see head torches waving around and shouts from hashers. And there was poor SM Ellie, caught fast in a particularly sticky mud section. A few yards away, Piddler AHA! was shouting advice!?! He seemed more concerned that Going Down was receding fast into the distance than helping the stricken harriet. Gent that he Shirley is, Beefy stepped in to assist. He was doing fine until some idiot stopped the rescue saying 'Hold it Beefy, we have to have a photo!' WHAT? Beefy let go of SM Ellie who promptly lost her balance and fell backwards into the mudbath! Still, we did get the photo, that's the main thing isn't it? SM Ellie may have thought differently. Safely extricated, SM Ellie and helpers headed across the fields and met with Wet Johnny who directed us to the exit gate and the safe haven of the Rising Sun.

SM Ellie in mud bath

Now you don't want me to just ramble on about the FRBs do you? So at great effort and an exclusive Skype link-up, here is the walkers' account of the trail brought to you by our man on the spot.. wait for it, Heeeeere's Bobby!

Walking group started off as Bobbiball, Melon Picker, Shitfaced plus one (Slobbadog?), Teapot, T Humper and child and Spud. We went down the wrong way on first check so got even further behind. Teapot soon turned back (knew what was good for him). Shitfaced got ahead and then MP got fed up with Spud getting in the way picking up sticks so I became Billy no mates in between MP and Spud. Eventually I ended up doing the endless trudge on my own! MP says he got stuck in the mud - same spot as SM Ellie? Did catch up with Shitfaced when he did not spot a check in the hedge - could this be another form of trail ? That will have to do!

Much later at the stewards enquiry, it transpired that SM Ellie, Going Down and Piddler had mistakenly taken the first short split and then got to the front by resuming the long trail. Knowing all of them, they would have stuck to the long trail by choice.

Beefy recorded the run as 5.9 miles and a run duration of just under an hour. I put 5.0 miles down for my run as Beefy must have covered an extra mile checking!

We had the Rising Sun to ourselves as they had opened specially for us - Mondays being closed. Before entering, I saw SM Ellie outside trying valiantly to clean up from her quagmire encounter. I came to the aid of the party with a pair of Christmas socks from my sister, so at least SM Ellies feet were dry.

DOWNDOWNS WENT TO:

Hares: ROXANNE & ERECTION for some confusing marks!..but forgiven after a great evening!

SLOBADOG: who after admitting eating? horse manure!, now wears the Horse Head hat.

T.HUMPER: Who after suffering from too much partying with "Hash Fag Lil" finds Its still not a dry January!

Now you'll never hear any criticism of hares from this quarter. They all try their little hearts out and are sometimes taken for granted by those who never lay a trail - but I absolutely loved the Ipplepenners' trail - it could have been designed for me, old roadrunner that I used to be.

WELL DONE lads, a triumph!

ON ON to next week and yet another Ipplepenner presentation from the Dartmouth Inn, Totnes and Hare Wet Johnny.

*I don't know why I bother sometimes.

** Anyone twenty years younger than me is a young blood.