A LOW-FLYING AIRCRAFT, MAN-PIG NOBBLED & A NAMING IN ABSENTIA

 

Run #1950 Monday 2nd January from the Devon Arms with Smellie

 

Who wuz there: GM Shitfaced, Teapot, Piltown, Smellie, Pollyfella, Coldtits, Soapy, Melon Picker, Beefy, Pisswell, Piddler, Broads, Tamsin, Man-Pig, Well Hopped, Big End, Fallen Woman, Pork Torpedo, Hornie, Ernie, Bluebird.

 

PREAMBLE

Vainly did I search my emails for Man-Pig's words until it slowly dawned upon me that I had been volunteered by Teapot. Even the faithful template and who wuz there failed to materialize. I grudgingly concede that MP deserves a week off now and again.

 

But now, to the rapturous applause by the two 'words' junkies out there - and to the collective groans of the majority of long-suffering readers, follow the first words of 2023. You may need a cuppa to endure.

 

THE CIRCLE

The born-again Grand Master, convincing himself that he was now hopefully free of ailments, circled his suspicious little huddle into some semblance of order and launched into his first spiel of the year.

 

His opening gambit that the hash subs would now be an eye-watering £30 elicited gasps from the now even more suspicious little huddle. The bombshell was tempered slightly by the good news that 2023 would be laden with goodies to make up for the shock to various wallets.

 

The spiel was punctuated from time to time by passing vehicles making it difficult to follow the arguments. The enforced interruptions served the useful purpose of delaying the start of the trail as first Coldtits, and then the Dartmoor tourists of Beefy and Pisswell arrived on the scene.

 

It was decidedly chilly, and the huddle began to shuffle with impatience as thankfully, a heavily attired hare stepped forward with the trail menu.

 

'One and on, the long and short trails are together for quite some way, so FRB's please kick out any checks. The short is four miles and the long is about five and a half. The walkers' trail is two point two miles.' The hooded Eskimo-like hare pointed vaguely in the direction of the North Pole and the huddle was duly dispersed.

 

Before we embark on the flight of fancy [sic] it might be useful to imagine a little old pensioner, plucked from a park bench, and unkindly informed that he must complete a four-mile run after years of inactivity...

 

THE TRAIL

Two figures dressed in black led the pack onto the sandy foreshore of the Back Beach to encounter a veritable obstacle course designed to maim and incapacitate the unwary. Man-in-black-Pig jinked and narrowly missed falling into a hole, shouting a warning to the second figure in black - the little old pensioner outlined to you previously.

 

Man-Pig again nearly came to grief a few strides later as a log loomed out of the gloom, and a succession of heavy mooring chains kept the pack on their toes.

 

The obstacle course jollity concluded, the pack veered onto the tarmac whereupon the pensioner, now warming to the task, shouted: 'On to check!' 'What check?' uttered Man-Pig. 'The one twelve feet in front of you!' retorted the little old pensioner.

 

As Man-Pig dutifully kicked out the check, the little old pensioner - plucked randomly from a park bench, found himself at the head of affairs and decided now was the time to switch on his novelty finger lights to celebrate the unexpected event.

 

The finger lights - two on each hand - emitted a bright but limited-range glow, perhaps more befitting as indicators of presence - or, wingtip lights mayhap?

 

The triumph was short-lived, however, as Beefy ambled past, doggedly pursued by Man-Pig. Only a half-mile into the test, and the little old pensioner had shot his aged bolt, resigning himself to being overtaken by all longs and sundry shorts.

 

Pollyfella tipped his cap to the old pensioner and then two more longs closed in - Tamsin and Broads.

 

The unlikely trio joined up for a social chat on the climb to the Dawlish road.

 

Breasting the rise and the salvation of the easy cascade back into Teignmouth, the little old pensioner hesitated. Just at that moment of indecision, the errant Man in black Man-pig hurtled past and the die was cast.

 

A blood-red mist swirled and the little old pensioner, despite anxious warnings from Broads, headed into the dip, Holcombe bound.

 

The sea wall beckoned, siren-like to the unlikely trio whose destiny now seemed intertwined for the rest of the trail. The lights of Teignmouth sparkled in the far distance as Broads and the little old pensioner prepared grimly to dig in for death or glory.

 

An amused onlooker, Tamsin's role would be to summon assistance in the event of catastrophe befalling the little old pensioner. With a warning shout by Tamsin: 'Don't fall off the wall!' It was game on.

 

The little old pensioner amused himself by periodically extending both arms wide and pointing his novelty fingered lights backwards as he swept by unsuspecting walkers on the sea wall.

As he approached, he cried out: 'Watch out! Low-flying aircraft!' The walkers, now unfortunately aware of the apparition, refrained from replying, being fearful that it may be an escaped lunatic. They were half correct in their appraisal..

 

The lunatic paused for a moment to stabilize his laboured breathing. Tamsin sauntered alongside. 'You're doing awfully well (for a doddery old pensioner)..' At least there was one person who appreciated the task set to the little old pensioner plucked from a park bench.

Two hundred yards later and pausing yet again to forestall a possible stroke, Tamsin sauntered alongside once more. 'I bet you didn't realize how long the sea wall is, did you?' This wasn't very helpful as the lunatic was by now, quite aware of this fact.

 

At last the torture was nearly over as the tall figure of Piltdown appeared at the end of the sea wall.

 

'Smellie will direct you from now on.'

 

As Coldtits pointed out later in the Devon Arms, the tree and decorations in the square were very pretty indeed - apparently at a cost to the taxpayer of £46,000, but, with his face set in a glazed death grin, the little old pensioner, so cruelly plucked from a park bench, was intent on reaching his chariot to call for a paramedic.

 

Satisfied that he was safe, Tamsin and Broads continued onto the long split... sigh.

 

THE DOWNDOWNS

There was a delay as a few were missing. The Grand Master, as good as his word, got round the four mile short to get his year off to a solid start. Piddler also survived the short trail, sporting a plaster on his forehead after sustaining an injury whilst climbing into his camper van. As you can imagine, he was subjected to many a jest for the mishap. Big End and Well Hopped (injured, we wish her well) did not venture into the pub. Pisswell, despite not feeling a hundred per cent, came in just as the downdowns eventually got underway.

 

Recipient of the Baby bat hat from Warm Front, Man-Pig singled out the hare for the honour but Smellie was a little unhappy to have the drink from the urinal which cramped her style somewhat.

Never mind, amidst generous applause, she triumphed.

 

Smellie proceeded to give an award to a hasher she had been accompanying but who mysteriously disappeared en route. Sheepishly, Teapot came forward for his punishment, and it wasn't a bad effort at all, surprising a few of the cabaret onlookers.

 

A naming in absentia was next. Man-Pig had mentioned in the words that Tamsin really should be named but as she never goes to the pub, there was a slight problem. After hearing a few details, the hash was given the task. As is the norm, confusion was rife in the ranks. 'We'll think about it!' called one. 'No, you've had twenty hashes to think about it!' called another.

 

It was Fallen Woman who came to the aid of the party, providing a very clever hash handle indeed: Miss Inn' - far too clever for most. Please don't make me explain.

 

Tamsin's plaintive last words to me were: 'Please make sure it's not too bad!'

 

A classic hash handle methinks, well done FW.

 

There was one last award. The RA was forced to explain why he had mislaid the hashit shirt.

The answer lay in a Christmas outing with Bobby and the Bird at the Thatched Tavern. Bobby had brought the shirt along as he wasn't going the following Monday. Slightly befuddled on leaving the tavern, Man-Pig was sure he had put it in his chariot only to find it missing later on.

 

The explanation was still ongoing as the Bird advanced with DD drink in one hand and the shirt in the other. I fear reprisals for the dastardly deed.

 

POSTSCRIPT

A very good turnout for the Bank Holiday Monday, well done the attendees and especially those who travelled afar like Beefy and Pisswell. 

 

Grateful thanks to Smellie, assisted by Piltdown, for the trail. It's not much fun laying a trail in gloomy January, but it was well worthwhile, and we all enjoyed it. Good service in the Devon Arms and the Deck Hand went down a treat.

 

NEXT WEEK

We're at the Taphouse, Newton Abbot with Arkangel the hare. I hope to see you all there if fortune smiles on me.

 

ON ON to next week!

TVH3 The Words for 26th December 2022

The Park Inn, Kingskerswell

 

Boxing Day pub walkabout

 

Run No. 1949

 

HARE: Shitfaced

 

Who wuz there: Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Man-Piglet (returnee), Cheerio-Beerio, Darcy, Eva, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Piddler (by bike), Strap-On, Strap Dancer, Slip-on-Me, Beefy, Pisswell, Threesum, and Martin.

 

The Circle

Amazingly, seventeen turned up for the Boxing Day hash. Family commitments, travel/travel chaos, and the Season of Christmas usually conspire to result in low numbers between the Christmas and New Year break. Accordingly, it was good to see a goodly number of, mainly sober, souls.

 

Smellie announced that she was looking for hares for the 16th January and from 4th February onwards. The Hare announced a short trail up to the Lord Nelson and back. Additionally, did anyone require food post hash? This would comprise gammon, cheesy chips, pigs in blankets etc @ £3 in the pot. There were no takers at the time but a few decided that they were, indeed, peckish after the arduous trail to the Nellie and back.

 

The Trail

A lunchtime walk around the village had revealed no marks whatsoever. The absence of marks was confirmed by the Hare at the commencement of the trail.

 

Despite being a somewhat short trail, it was not without incident. What on earth could go wrong in 600 yards?

 

First, Piddler wanted to do a proper run, and enquired if anyone wanted to get to the Nellie via the Barn Owl. Little interest was expressed, and this diminished even further when Man-Pig advised that the Barn Owl was shut.

 

The second issue was whether to delay commencement of the trail. Two stalwarts were en route to the Park Inn but were running late due to having just completed a run on Dartmoor. This was Beefy and Pisswell. We started the run without them, and told them where to meet us.

 

There was no marked trail per se. Nevertheless, this didn't stop an impromptu long/short split from taking place almost from the outset. Man-Pig took most of the pack down the alleyway opposite the pub and headed for the main road. Shitfaced, however, took the balance of the pack back towards the war memorial and Fore Street.

 

The reason for the split soon became apparent when FRB, Piddler, ground to a halt between The Sloop and Dobbin Arch. The narrow footpath that leads up to the Nellie from the A380 had been blocked off with safety barriers. Apparently, this was because the council had deemed the wall to the pathway to be unsafe. Did this phase our hashers, including Darcy (8 yrs) and Eva (6 yrs)? No.

 

Man-Pig was first to navigate the barrier. A jump onto the wall, past the barrier, and descent back onto the path. Everyone made it safely through, and soon we were in a nice warm pub.

In theory, we had planned to stop for a single beer before returning to the Park Inn but we had to wait for latecomers. Just as pint number one had been finished, Beefy and Pisswell appeared. But where were Martin and Pisswell? Just as pint number two had been finished, they appeared. 

 

Never mind, just as well I bought some extra cash.

 

The return journey was a bit of a free for all but all made it safely back to the Park Inn.

 

The Down-Downs

Park 'n' Ride had just commenced putting out the food. Dilemma - quick pre-scoff, down-downs or defer till after food. 

 

"Be quick" shouted Shitfaced. And so commenced the briefest of down-downs. The RA sounded reminiscent of an auction house auctioneer - sans gavel.

 

"Any awards from last week?". Silence.

 

"Any stories?". Silence.

 

So the first down-down went to Piddler for paying for his beer in the Nellie with a watch. Doesn't anyone have cash anymore?

 

Next up were Threesum and Martin for being late in arriving at the Nellie; and this despite having the shortest distance to travel.

 

Threesum explained that it was Martin's fault as he was having difficulty with his Yuletide log. No doubt he'll require U-Bend's assistance with the logjam so a note for, "Here's to U-Bend........".

 

As the delay had been entirely Martin's fault, Threesum nominated him to down her half as well. It must be at least six years since we've had a whole pint as a down-down.

 

The last beer was still to be awarded as Park 'n' Ride arrived with the last of the hot food. Shitfaced was instantly awarded the last down-down for being the Hare and taking us on a dangerous obstacle course en route to the Nellie....for Heaven's sake man, children's lives were put at risk!

 

A note for the "Steeplechaser".

 

A thank you to Park 'n' Ride for the scoff and the beer. Unsurprisingly, no-one wanted the half pint of water.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash, the first of a brand new year, is at The Devon Arms Hotel, Teignmouth where Smellie will try to avoid getting four down-downs!

 

Wishing you all a Peaceful New Year.

 

On on to next year, MP.

 

TVH3 The Words for 19th December 2022

King's Arms, Kingsteignton

Christmas Raffle

Run No. 1948

HARES: Hotlips & Zoot

 

Who wuz there:

Runners: Hotlips, Zoot, Warmfront, Beefy, Pisswell, Piddler, Man-Pig, Piltdown Man, Smellie, Big End, Well Hopped, Melon-Picker, Soapy, and I'm pretty sure that I saw Wet-Johnny doing a pre-hash run with Beefy.

 

Raffle team: Ablesemen, Satnav, Threesum & Slip-on-Me.

 

Rafflers: Shitfaced, Archangel, Teapot, Wetfart, Cheerio Beerio, Fallen Woman, Pork Torpedo, Horny, U-Bend, Strap-On, Bobbiball & Coldtits.

 

The Circle

Pretty much only a single announcement; Smellie requires hares for 16th January and thereafter.

 

Over to the Hares. Hotlips advised that it would be a short run owing to the raffle and the pub putting on food for us - courtesy of the hash.

 

Longs' about 3; Shorts' 2 and there would be a Walkers' if anyone was interested. The Longs' would be an out and back on the same trail whereupon you would rejoin the Shorts'. The return point on the Longs would be clearly marked - except for those who were not paying any attention i.e. Man-Pig and Beefy.

 

The Trail

The BBC weather forecast was not promising. At 7pm it forecast a 96% chance of rain, rising to a 98% chance by 8pm. They weren't wrong. The weather was atrocious. Heavy rain and strong winds. On the plus side, the temperature had picked up from -2 to +13 degrees celsius in just 24 hours - that would explain the strong winds.

 

The weather contributed to only five stalwarts (or should that be fools) doing the Long and I think it might have been only four plus the Hare on the Shorts as I can't remember if Piltdown and Soapy were on trail.

 

The trail took us diagonally across the main road in front of the pub, and running up Fore Street towards the Bell Inn. Opposite the Bell, an arrow directed us along the footpath towards St Michael's church; this is the footpath with the stream running down one side.

 

The marks took us into the churchyard and left, behind the church, to the first check. The trail then took us out of the churchyard and along a narrow footpath running parallel with the churchyard to the next check. Man-Pig checked left and up, I think, Honeywell Road. They were faint but there were two marks and an arrow at the first road junction. "On-On" I called, but no-one was following.

 

I went back to the check to find that it had been marked in the opposite direction. In fairness, Hotlips had mentioned that there were some old marks. These must have been from our run from Tuckers' Maltings Taphouse a fortnight ago. Despite the torrential rain, the cold weather had frozen these marks into the tarmac.

 

Back on trail, it was across Greenhill Way towards Hackney Marshes and onto the new cycle path behind Newton Abbot racecourse. Passing the Hare, and some of the Shorts, I caught up with Pisswell and Piddler before Beefy overtook me and disappeared into yonder distance.

At a Y branch, the Shorts' trail diverted left and under a railway bridge. This path leads to The Passage House Hotel. The Longs went right and up to the new bridge over the canal. Beefy and Man-Pig had not seen the U-turn marked just before the bridge and embarked upon an unrewarding search for non-existent marks around the Brunel trading estate. Beefy must have realised his error before I did, as I spent the rest of the trail on my lonesome.

 

Rejoining the Shorts' trail, it was along the banks of the Teign, left into the Passage House and down and then up Hackney Lane. The Hares had not mentioned anything about waders, buoyancy devices or small boats. However, all would have been useful when navigating the huge puddle halfway along Hackney Lane. 

 

A most confusing mark appeared at the junction between Hackney Lane and Greenhill Way. This comprised crossed out Walkers, Shorts and Longs all going left and traversing a grassy area before hitting Greenhill Way and eventually backtracking the out trail. 3.5 miles all told - and still back in the pub for ten past eight.

 

The Down-Downs

Fallen Woman had the Hashshit shirt from last week. Who else to give it to but none other than last week's Good Samaritan - Bobbiball. Songmeister, Pork Torpedo, kicked off with "Old McDonald had tourettes.....".

 

Next up was Warm Front. She did not have an award from last week but she did have some lost property from the Christmas Party. It was Amy's belt and top. What on earth had been going on at the Christmas party....or coming off? More crucially, why wasn't I informed? In Amy's absence, a snitching Warmfront was awarded a down-down on Amy's behalf accompanied by the Songmeister's version of "Love me tender....."

 

Amazingly, Warmfront made the half pint disappear in under 2.5 seconds whilst simultaneously doubling her body weight!

 

Cheerio Beerio had the jester's hat from two or three weeks ago. She came up with a story that she'd originally been given the birthday hat (the one with the candles) by mistake. This was not the correct hat and she had to give it back and it would be replaced with something more appropriate. In this instance, the jester's hat. What drivel! There are no rules on the hash.

The agent of this diatribe of nonsense should have known better....it was Teapot. Apparently Teapot was manifesting a "mansplanation". PT came up with a wholly inappropriate song in the form of: "This is your down-down song. It won't take very long". It took ages.

 

The last half pint had to go to the Hare, especially as it was his birthday. "Hashy birthday. F..k you...." repeat 10 times was the accompanying ditty.

 

Finally, a big THANKYOU to the raffle organisers and also to the pub for the scoff and the beer.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The Park Inn, Kingskerswell. Shitfaced will lead the Boxing Day trail that will take in the Lord Nelson and maybe the Sloop or the Hare & Hounds dependant upon the weather....so bring money!

 

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas.

On-On to next week, MP.

The King lives

 Christmas Party uh huh huh

INSPECTOR CLOUSEAU INVESTIGATES, A MODEST HERO & NOT A YARD TOO FAR

 

by Man-Pig

 

Chez Broken Man & Fallen Woman's abode

 

Annual Christmas fancy dress fish 'n' chip hash

 

Run No. 1947 Monday 12th December

 

HARES: Fallen Woman and Bobbiball

 

Who wuz there: Fallen Woman, Bobbiball, Broken Man, Wet Johnny, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, iPoo'd, Archangel, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Twin Buffers, Beefy, Pisswell, U-Bend, Able Semen, Slip-on-Me, Melonpicker, Soapy, Palmolive, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Piddler, Threesum, Coldtits, Teapot.

 

THE CIRCLE

Smellie announced that all dates for 2023 were available. Step right up and book your slot. Ablesemen proclaimed that tonight would be your last chance to buy raffle tickets for next Monday's Christmas draw, so get in quick.

 

Threesum thanked everyone who came to Saturday's Christmas party and advised that the venue had been booked again for next year. NoNo oneanted to do the Words so it was over to the Hares.

 

Fallen Woman said that the trail was quite short but festive and scenic nonetheless. The Longs would be longer than the Shorts and there was a Walkers' trail which would involve following Bobbiball straight to the pub. Hurrahs all round. 

 

Bobbiball then chipped in that the trail might seem a little confusing as some of it was laid in sawdust and some in flour and some in a combination of the two. There was no mention of legacy trails spreading across Berry Head.......hmmm

 

THE TRAIL

The trail took us out of Freshwater/Oxencove car park and down a dozen steps onto the coast path where we headed for Bixham; past the working port with lorries loading up with the day's catch and then around the old harbour and past the Christmas decorations.

 

Near the harbour's Christmas tree, we came to an indistinct mark. A check? A Long/Short split? We didn't know.

 

Wet-Johnny checked along the coast path towards Berry Head while the Pig checked up some steps onto Berry Head Road. Three dots. "On-On" but no one was following.

 

I'd left Piddler at the bottom of the steps and he hadn't come up them, so I went down to see what he was doing. He wasn't there. Further up the coast path, I could see a fluorescent jacket. This was Pisswell. I caught her up and she advised that Wet-Johnny was calling it "On".

Crikey, it was cold. Even though the onshore breeze was fairly gentle, it made a cold winter's day noticeably colder.

 

An arrow took us up some steps and onto Berry Head Road and the only Long/Short split of the trail. Piddler and U-Bend looked unimpressed. I had thought that they had gone Short.

I heard Wet-Johnny calling "On to check" to my left on the Longs. At least I think that's what I heard. 

 

Off I trotted but all I found was a cross. I backtracked and checked up Victoria Road.....nothing. Back down to Berry Head Road retracing my steps. I'd overshot an arrow. We were back on the coast path and onto the beach where the temperature had frozen the shingle together in a solid mass.

 

The tide was quite high, and the onshore wind was creating one or two white horses. Fortunately, the path was not icy. I didn't fancy a dip on my own at this time of year.

 

Up some stone steps, and then around the shoal pool and across the shoal pool car park. We were back on Berry Head road but no sign of the other Longs; Beefy, Wet-Johnny, Pisswell, and Piddler as it turned out. I went right only to find the same cross that I'd found five minutes earlier.

 

Yes, there were dots to my left leading into Berry Head Hotel. The dots were, at first, on the left but then changed to the right. 

 

Opposite the pedestrian gate which accesses the hotel's car park was a very obvious hash check which had been kicked out in the direction of the car park.

 

INSPECTOR CLOUSEAU INVESTIGATES

I knew that the broad track that led to Berry Head was just the other side of the car park. But, would we be going all that way when we still had a pub stop and a fish 'n' chip meal to contend with later in the trail? I had my suspicions.

 

This was definitely a hash check that had been kicked out. However, it had been kicked out when the ground had been soft and muddy. The edges of the kick-out created a raised shoulder of frozen mud. The temperature in Brixham hadn't been above freezing for at least four days. This didn't strike me as a new mark.

 

I carried on, and a nice shiny white dot of flour appeared some fifteen feet further on. Just as the lane starts to ascend, there is a cul-de-sac to the right with, perhaps, half a dozen houses. I recalled running past these houses, but from the other direction, a year ago. Torch out. Let's look for marks.

 

There was a sawdust mark but, up until this point, I'd been following almost exclusively flour. I continued to a small gate to find an unkicked-out check in sawdust. There was only one way to go - through the gate. I kicked it out and I was, indeed, on last year's footpath. There were marks but this time they were all in sawdust.

 

Exiting the woods, there was a big white arrow directing us across Victoria Road and onto Lands Road and thence Heath Road. Lots of marks but we were back to flour again. Still no sign of the other Longs. I had called several times when I'd found myself on trail but that last check hadn't been kicked out. Had they gone out onto Berry Head or would they be back in the pub quaffing ale? We would soon find out.

 

Towards the end of Heath Road, there was a little bit of a zig-zag. I was following a combination of arrows and dots. This brought me to a pedestrian alleyway where the vehicular part of the road ended. 

 

Another arrow had me on a narrow road high above the Quay. I am pretty sure that this was North View Road. More arrows and dots had me running under the Christmas lights on Fore Street before crossing the bus station and finding marks around Church Street. 

 

At last, a road I recognized but no marks. This was Station Road and I knew that dry, warm sanctuary in the form of The Queens lay at the top of yonder hill.

 

Marks were leading up steps to my left. I surmised that his would be a run around the school playing field for the Shorts - so I ignored them, and made a bee-line for the pub.

 

Beer at last. But where were Wet-Johnny, Beefy, Pisswell and Piddler? Before I could ask, Soapy had started the Hash version of the Twelve Days of Christmas. Just as that had finished, an exhausted Piddler arrived. He was the last of the Longs to make it back (into) the pub.

 

£3.20 A PINT!

The previous Saturday had been The Queens' beer festival. Beer was an astonishing £3.20/pint and the beer festival had made £1,400 for charity. An excellent effort by Chris and his team at the pub. They had also tapped the 65% proof plumb brandy that had been sitting on the bar for the previous decade. The first tot had been auctioned off for £60 on Saturday. Hmmm......65%.

I may have to return to try that when I'm not driving. Chris made us all very welcome, and his selection of beers and ciders was simply astounding. A proper good old boozer. Well done, Chis and his team for putting this pub on the map as Camra's best South Devon town pub on at least two previous occasions.

 

Fallen Woman gave the five minute warning to down our pints and, in next to no time, we found ourselves scoffing fish 'n' chips and admiring the views over Brixham harbour.

 

THE DOWN-DOWNS

Ablesemen was first up in a search for someone befitting of rehousing the small bat hat. However, she first thanked the committee for organising Saturday's Christmas Party and thanked everyone who had made the effort to come in fancy dress.

 

"Who set the long?" enquired Ablesemen. Bobbiball quietly shrank into the corner. "Thankyou for advising that it ran all over marks from South Hams pre Xmas hash from a fortnight earlier."

 

The net result of this was that the majority of the intrepid Longs were on the TVH3 trail as far as The Berry Head Hotel. At that point, they commenced the South Hams trail.

Just as well some of the marks had been washed away. Otherwise they would, alarmingly, have found themselves at the Ship Inn in Kingswear!

 

Broken Man had brought out the yard of ale, and Melonpicker started the down-down songs with "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy..." as Bobby proceeded to spill most of his half pint over first himself, and then the hosts' floor.

 

Next up was Melonpicker. He did not have a physical award but he had a virtual award from the previous week. Once again, the errant Longs were in the firing line. Only three of the five Longs had made it back to the Queens but, perplexingly, only two had actually entered the pub.

 

For some inexplicable reason, Wet-Johnny had, eventually, made it back to the pub via Berry Head. He must have been knackered poor thing....too tired to even enter the pub! A note for "the under 18". Again an attempt was made on the yard of ale. Another spillage and a quarter of a pint remaining in the bottom.

 

Next up was Wet-Johnny himself for the great reveal. "I have an award," he said, "....from a couple of weeks ago." He unzipped his kagool to reveal a very sweaty and smelly hashshit shirt. Who on earth was going to get that filthy thing....and the shirt!

 

Wet-Johnny recounted a story of many a lay. The trail, as undertaken, had been laid by Fallen Woman, Bobbiball and South Hams Hash. Three trails for the price of one.

 

Once in the pub, the laying continued or, more accurately, the mislaying continued. Fallen Woman had mislaid her credit card.

 

The yard of ale had been topped up to a full half pint, and the hash started singing "Here's to the multi-laid harriet" or something like that. A lot of near gagging was going on, and yet another unfinished yard of ale.

 

Were there any more stories or awards?

 

U-Bend had been given a down-down the previous week, and he was on trail but I can't remember if he'd made it back to Fallen Woman's and Broken Man's. There was the best part of bottle of beer still to go, but no stories.

 

NOT A YARD TOO FAR

Somehow, in the general conversation of the moment, Man-Pig had innocently mentioned that he'd never done a yard of ale. In no time at all, Fallen Woman had poured the last bottle of beer into the yard long glass and thrust it towards Man-Pig. 

 

Wottamistakkatomaka. With a lot of trepidation and a steady hand, the Pig managed to, very slowly, gulp his way through the lot without spilling a drop. Unbelievable.

 

A rather flustered Pig was somewhat red in the face and looked about to throw up when out came the most enormous belch....applause all round.

 

Thank you, Fallen Woman and Broken Man for, once again, inviting the hash into your home. We had a great time and I can only apologise for Bobbiball's excessive dribbling!

 

POSTSCRIPT

Our Bobby - a modest hero

 

Whilst setting the trail at the hotel end of Berry head hotel, Bobbiball had come across an elderly lady who had fallen over and couldn't get up. She had been walking a friend's dog that was far too big for her to control easily. She'd fallen but couldn't risk letting the dog go.

 

However, it was the very presence of the big dog that was preventing her from getting up. A catch 22 situation.

 

Bobby came across the tangled and stricken duo, and could barely handle the dog himself. It was not a vicious dog; simply too big for an elderly lady to control properly.

 

It was bitterly cold and the pair were in a tiny, hidden viewing spot just off the Berry Head Road. 

 

Who knows what might have occurred if Bobby had not happened along? A deed well done methinks - and not a word from the modest hero to the hash.

 

If we still had the trophy, the Crusher Cup (for valiant deeds) would be his at the Awards Night.

 

Bravo, Bobby!

 

NEXT WEEK

Next week's Hash is at The Kings Arms, Kingsteignton and the annual TVH3 Christmas draw. The hares are Hotlips and Zoot. Good luck everybody.

 

On-On to next week, MP.

TVH3 The Words for 5 December 2022

 

The Abbey Inn, Buckfast

 

Run No. 1946

 

HARE: Pisswell 

 

Who wuz there: Pisswell, Shitfaced, iPoo'd, Man-Pig, Cheerio Beerio, Threesum, Beefy, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, U-Bend, Fallen Woman, Able Semen, Slip-on-Me, Melonpicker, Soapy, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Big End, Ned, Well Hopped and Teapot.

 

The circle

Reminders regarding draw tickets for sale, for Dec 19th, party details (6pm start at the Taphouse, Kings & Queens theme, food and party at Con. club), and next week's hash (Christmas fancy dress, fish & chips at Brixham).

 

The trail by Pisswell

 

Music to 'Fairytale of New York' by the Pogues

 

It was Abbey Inn, babe Hash at Buckfast.

Old hasher said to me, God, not another one!

But still we circled up,

The Rare Teign Valley crew

I turned my face away

And dreamed what might have been.

========================

I had a lovely one

Steam train of lights had come

But not on Monday nights

So planned another one!

So happy Christmas

The lights of Buckfastleigh

We all heard the party planned

Will Manpigs dreams come true?

======================

They’ve got Kings' and Queens' party

Oh what shall we wear?

But the wind goes right through her

If Cheerios bare!

But back to the hash

On a cold Winters Eve

You promised a Great hash was waiting for me.

==============================

There was sweeties

There’s plenty

Queen of Dartmoor cemetries

When the spirits stopped spooking

They howled out for more

The old church bells swinging

All the hashers were sprinting

Some split in confusion

Then ran home in fright!

=================

The guys of the TVH3 hash

Were running through the night

And they all went rushing back

To get a pint.

============

Midget gum?

Brave the souls

Feel for sweeties in holes

Running there through the dead,

find your way through the graves

The Abbey was after

They all cried with laughter

They were sent through the bollarks

And on with the mass.

================

The guys of the TVH3 hash

Were running through the night

We ran round the Abbey gardens

To see the lights.

============

The Walkers soon were gone

The shorts and longs on on

Onto a split they came

Longs would soon do the same

But first a place was sought

They looked for Hembury fort

Into the woods they ran

Before the same route on home.

=====================

The guys of the TVH3 hash

Were running through the night

Down downs at Abbey Inn

Were all in sight.

=============

 

The Down-downs as recalled by Man-Pig

U-Bend was first up to give away the birthday cake hat. This proved to be a case of mistaken identity. U-Bend couldn't make out who a female FRB was. Cheerio-Beerio was running next to U-Bend and said, "Oh. I know who that is. It's Fallen Woman". Fallen Woman FRB'ing? Was it Hell?. It was Soapy.

 

Pork Torpedo was in attendance so it was a 10 toes up and 10 toes down rendition for Cheerio followed by a glass of water - as she doesn't do beer!

 

Next up was almost a returnee. It was Threesome who had the Baby bat hat from the Red Rock brewery hash. This was awarded to Ablesemen for losing her hat on trail. It was caught by an overhanging thorn bush and left hanging in the air above a rapidly cooling Ablesemen. I can't remember the down-down song for this one.

 

We had run out of awards but there was still almost a pint and a half to go. Were there any stories? U-Bend was named and shamed by Pork Torpedo for nervous parking. A ditty about an Aladdin's lamp purchased from a hasher that. "......hadn't produced f**k all yet!"

 

Next there was a story, the substance of which I can't recall. However, Melonpicker got a down-down accompanied by a variation of the Aladdin's Lamp song.

 

Finally, Beefy spilled the beens on Pork Torpedo and Horny. 

 

Either by design, or by accident, Pork Torpedo and Horny found themselves back in the pub and enjoying a pint after having only covered 3/4 of a mile. Short cutting or what? 

 

This time Melonpicker started the down-down song with, "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy".

Finally, finally. No beer left so a pint of water to the Hare for the trail and a welcome return to an old venue. Unsurprisingly, she didn't want it.

 

A couple of Hashers remarked on the good trail and thought positively of the On-Down. They suggested that it would be good to return here again in the summer. 

 

Teapot also reminisced of the time that he had organised a steam train to take us to Buckfast. We engaged in an egg catching competition before being returned to a railway junction near the Tally Ho for our canter back to the pub.

 

I bet that was over 20 years ago!

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at Oxencove car park, Brixham, with Fallen Woman haring assisted by Bobbiball. 

 

This is the annual Christmas themed fancy dress run - no doubt with Christmas carols. There will be a pub stop so BRING CASH as the pub doesn't accept credit cards!

 

On-On to this Saturday and next Monday.