CLAYCUTTERS

Run #2064 Monday 24th February Circle up 7:15 pm from the Claycutters Arms, Chudleigh Knighton, Newton Abbot TQ13 0EY with Poacher. I believe the usual protocol is for us to try and park in the lower car park.

 

TVH3 The words for 17th February 2025, hash no. 2063

 

Bohemian Rhapsody

Bohemian Rhapsody

https://youtu.be/yl3TsqL0ZPw

River Dart Rhapsody

TVH3 The words for 17th February 2025, hash no. 2063

River Dart Country Park,Ashburton.

Hare: Pisswell

Who wuz there:

SS helpers: Puddle Plopper, Twinkle toes, Cheerio Beerio, Threesum.

Forrest, Shitfaced, Piltdown Man, Georgie Porgie, Beeflicker, Pyscho, Warmfront, Ernie, Fuckarwe, Judgemental, Pocket Rocket, Satnav, Able Seaman, Poacher, Cheesy Helmet, Cheesy Nibbles, Beefy, Sarah

Virgins: Jenny, Steve, Annie, Serena, Zola, Ledrow, Julia, Violet

And at down downs Jill, David, Ali, Rose, Sue, Tony, Daf.

Circle: No harer raiser to report

£1 to hash tax.

Shitfaced welcomed a record 8 virgins, not to be counted towards “groomer of the year”. He wished them good luck, whilst Pisswell dusted them and also returnee Forrest with a little flour!

We were informed that Twin Buffers had sadly passed away. Our best wishes to Squashed balls and family.

Over to the hare:

Pisswell started with a group hug and then in readyness for the evenings singing later, asked hashers to follow her in singing an adapted hash song for Twin Buffers. Zen had done a similar thing at the lunatics hash the week before.

Here’s to Twin Buffers,

She’s gone too,

She’s a hasher through and through.

She was brilliant so they say

And she’ll never be forgotten in a long long day

She’ll go on , on ,on ,on,………

The trail: W 2 1/2m

S 3 1/2m

L 5 1/2m

By kind permission of Mark Simpson

River Dart Rhapsody

Is this Ashburton?

Is this just Pisswell’s hash?

Caught in the circle, no escape from the birthday bash

Open your ears, get ready for beers, and hear

I'm just a poor hare, I need to lay the trail

But It’s far too far, way to go

I’d a plan, now you know

Tried to get a bus b’tween, doesn't really matter, to you

Hashers, I killed that plan.

Ash Art centre’s less to hire, that’s the end now, cost was dire

Plan B, trail had just begun

To start at country park at River Dart

Hashers, ooh, the barriers will rise

I’ll make a track, amidst the trees and zip lines

Carry on, thank you Mark. He said “money doesn’t matter”

It’s late, we circle then

The longs are sent off track, to waste time ‘til they come back

Goodbye, everybody, turn to the right

Gotta climb the muddy hill from the campsite. Hashers, oooh

run on virgin ground

You sometimes wish you’d never chose to be long

Instrumental

I see a little back checker for the longs

All go back, Longs go back, it’s your turn to join the rest now

River Dart, Country Park, very dark, frightening me!

Up the pathway( Up the pathway )Through the trees there, (Through the trees there,) Through the dark there, Hashers go,

Magnifico o o o o

Now onto this place there, Galant Le Bower.

It’s just some sweeties, strung up in the van there

With a wee dram in a med’cin pot!

Easy come, easy run, have you all had fun?

On on now, Go, the race had not been won (let him go)

On on now, the walkers circle slow (let her go)

On on now, the shorts and longs must go ( let me go)

Will not let you go, ( Let me go)

Will not let you go, ( Let me go o o o)

On, on, on, on, on, on, on

Oh, hashers dear, hashers dear,

Hashers dear, let them go

The RA has a down down put aside for me, and three, Beefy?

So you think you can run still, this far, why oh why?

So you run to next split now and chose shorts or die?

Oh, hashers, longs left over Green down

Just gotta run t’Holne, New bridge and - Dart outta here

Instrumental

Ooh

Ooh, yeah, ooh, yeah

Chase gate really matters, getting home safely

On down really matters

“Raucous chorus” matters to me.

Please vote for Pisswell! ( only joking) x

Outtakes:

The barriers didn’t go up!

The down downs didn’t open up! (All got sorted in the end!)

The longs did a snakey stop SS

The hare messed up the back check but luckily redirected

Cider pulled Poacher back to the start

The sweetie stop was a twinkly lovely regroup. Thank you to the 4 girls x

Forrest was seen FRBing up from the river Dart at Newbridge, covered in flour so that everyone would follow behind him!

Down downs:

Thank you so much to David, Jill, Tony, Ali and Poacher for manning the music, bar and pizzas. No wood burning van required!

First down down to Warmfront, for being shocked by what was protruding from Forrest’s pocket! Battery operated I believe now!

Second to Pyscho, nominated by Beeflicker for something, can’t remember what this time!

Third to the hare, who got three songs. Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy, a hasher birthday song and then later a raucous one. Beeflicker dobbed her in for ringing 999 for the fire brigade in the last week, this was on the back of her down down a few weeks before at getting excited by the firemen in Newton Abbot fire station!

Cheesy Helmet came to oversea the rocket that was planted in Jill’s chocolate birthday cake.

The RA Forrest necked the last beer. (He hasn’t done it for a bit)

Thank you so much to all who came and for your help. It was great fun.Hope you enjoyed it too. Well done virgins. Hope you come again!

Next week: Poacher, and hopefully Cider in the Claycutters.

APOLOGIES

My apologies for the extreme lateness of posting the words and Monday's details. Facebook readers were informed on Wednesday of Twin Buffers passing which prevented posting of the words. I have been taken ill ill and only managed to post the words on FB this afternoon.

Here is Sam's (Squashed Balls) FB post:

Dear Teign Valley, I'm sad to tell you this lovely TV3 hasher, superbly named by yourselves, died last night of ovarian cancer. We are all shocked as it was only 5 days from discovery to death. I met Twin Buffers (Audrey) at the Teign Valley harvest festival hash at Stoke-in-teignhead in 2010. How lucky was I to be at that hash and be able to spend the next 14+ years with this lovely woman. There will be further updates. Thank you.

 

 

PISSWELL'S BIRTHDAY HASH

Run #2063 Monday 17th February 7:15 pm Circle up from River Dart Country Park, TQ13 7NP for Pisswell's birthday extravaganza. The OD is at Ashburton Arts Centre 15 West St, Ashburton, Newton Abbot TQ13 7DT Please read Pisswell's instructions below.

 

DELAYED WORDS

 

The passing of Twin Buffers last Tuesday has postponed the posting of the words. A sad day for all who knew Audrey, hashers and Torbay AC runners. Condolences to Sam and Audrey's family members. We hope to see you soon, Sam x

TVH3 The Words for 10th February 2025

The Corner Flag, Devon Football Association, Coach Road, Newton Abbot

Run No. 2062 - "Bird Bath"

HARE: Wet-Johnny

 

Who wuz there: Wet-Johnny, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Bluebird, Beefy, Pisswell, Pocket Rocket, Piltdown Man, Georgie Porgie, Smellie, Beeflicker, Warmfront, Psycho, Cheerio Beerio, Only Here for the Beer, Ablesemen, Coldtits, Satnav, Roger the Dodger, Big End, Well Hopped, Erection, Fukarewe, Ernie, Strap-On, Strap Dancer, Sarah and long-time absent returnee, VD

 

Circle

Twenty eight.

 

Trail

So, what magic would Wet-Johnny conjure up for this week's trail? Wet-Johnny was faced with an unenviable task. Namely, to lay a trail that was wholly different from that laid by Beeflicker in the same vicinity last week. Wet-Johnny did not disappoint with a bit of virgin territory thrown in on the second Longs. I have never been down Deer park Road, St Michael's Road and West Point before in my life - well done.

 

And now, reluctantly, I hand over to the ag-ed Bird. I would advise those of a nervous disposition to be prepared for the worst. Get a cuppa (or something stronger), your t't' teddy bear and snuggle down deep in the duvet. Sigh.

 

THE SENILE & THE (NOT) SEDUCED

RAMBLING PROLOGUE

It was a strange day in the life of the Bird. Along these hallowed lines, I shall attempt to relay the story as best I can recall, given my great age and advancing befuddlement.

 

A normal day insofar they who do not comprehend the manic workings of the Bird-brain may struggle to assimilate what follows.

 

Looking after six rescue cats, an aged tortoise - rescued by my dad in 1970 walking down the road by Shaldon pitch and putt course - and a one-legged seagull who used my flat roof as a makeshift take-off and landing ramp, have combined to dull my senses so allowances should be made.

 

The day unfolded as usual. Feed all cats, a breakfast of toast and stem ginger preceded and followed by several cups of Rosie Lee before adjourning to the PC and operating my Betfair account in the fervent but faint hope of making a shekel or two.

 

Cometh 5 pm and the established ritual of destressing via several shots of Baileys substitute (Lidl's Dundalgan Irish country cream liqueur, attractively priced at £4.99).

 

Man-Pig had strongly advised that the Bird should get out of the cabin and make the hash. This email had been duly read and digested with a sprinkling of breadcrumbs.

 

In the words of Deano, 'Baby It's Cold Outside' and I had no intention whatsoever of venturing out, let alone going hashing. I hadn't run for some time and had just about decided that it was time to hang up my hashing Bluebird hat. 

 

'Will you Bury My Body at Sea, My Lord',

as the Out of Tunas will Shirley serenade when the time comes.

 

I hope you're still out there as I'm going to a lot of trouble here, and I'm just getting warmed up.

Collective muted groan from the cheap seats.

 

5:30 pm

I settled down into the armchair and poured another generous shot of the substitute.

Then things took an unexpected turn. I did not feel that good and closed my eyes for a few minutes that stretched into an hour. Coming to with a start, a morbid feeling of dread washed over the Irish Cream liqueur saturated one. I would expire this very evening in the armchair. Shaken, I stirred [Shirley sic - you're not paying attention, are you?] and made a quick meal.

 

It was 7:05 pm. “Late is the hour in which this Pillock chooses to appear. Birdbrain I name him' [ten points for that one if you don't have to Google it].

 

A feeling of near panic overcame the be-creamed Bird and he fled the homestead, forsaking any change of clothes - or shoes.

 

I gotta get out of this place, if it's the last thing I ever do... [no points, Shirley]

 

There will now be a short intermission. If no Ice-cream lady knocks at your door, kindly inspect the deep freeze for a choc-ice.

 

When will the windbag get to the point? (5 points awarded to you Disney lovers).

 

And now, Oh Dearly Shirley Now Deeply Distressed, herewith follows the trail account. Some will venture that certain events cannot Shirley have occurred but I have a reliable witness (crony) who will vouch for this unlikely set of words. HA!

 

At 7:23 pm, the silver chariot nosed into the Corner Flag's car park. The circle was convened but strangely quiet. Beefy stepped forward to welcome the ruffled Bird. The Grand Master announced the returnee and there was a smattering of unconvincing applause. I heard that boo.

 

Wet Johnny delivered the spiel, failing to give distances in case of disillusionment and duly dispersed the chilled huddle into the wilderness.

 

Cautiously did the Bird set out, not knowing what fate awaited him out there in the Abbot boondocks.

At the first turn up into the hills, First Contact (1996) was made with Smellie and Pisswell. I was slightly out of breath after overtaking a scuttling Coldtits and welcomed a breather.

 

The first realization of how ill-prepared I was for A Walk on the Wild Side (1962) came when we encountered a savage flight of steps that stretched upwards, seemingly to the very stars. 

 

I had now joined up with Manopause and Ernie and this, I hoped, would be the party that would lead me to the Promised Land (2023).

 

Ernie, back from a Caribbean pick-me-up, marked my card as to where we might be Ace Ventura-ing.

Manopause called us back when we had overshot a cunningly placed arrow leading back down to sea level. Ernie gently reminded me that it was Erection I had been gaily chatting with and not Manopause - though Erection had not bothered to correct the silly old fool.

 

'It must be down the muddy path into Decoy woods' Ernie confided. So was it spoken and so did it come to pass. Pisswell unexpectedly appeared in front of us. Unexpected as she had not overtaken me since our Brief Encounter (1945) half a mile back.

 

Ernie was right about the mud and it got worse - much worse.

 

Ayeeeeee.... and the Blackhawk Bird was Down (2025 you fools). An intense white light enveloped the stricken one. Complete unnerving silence. And then a voice from above spoke. 'I don't think he's dead.'

 

Sympathy was in short supply. 'I think he did it on purpose,' Pisswell uttered and proceeded to take a photo, doubtless to titillate the hash. Oh, how cruelly the afflicted were mocked (5 points).

 

Shaken but not stirred (I know, I've already done that one), the Bird vented his wrath on a following hasher. 'Who is this idiot?' Pocket Rocket joined with the mini hash and off we set once again.

 

A check. 'I reckon Wet Johnny has been seduced by the Shirley 1 in 3 hill up to the Totnes Road, 'Shirley it's hard a starboard!' triumphantly cried the senile one, unaware that it had already been done the previous week. Sigh.

Not long for this life, the Bird passed on vital knowledge which Shirley would be lost like tears in the rain (15 points). Espying a cross, the demented one revealed the secret that had been so bitterly suppressed by hares everywhere, perhaps for good reason.

 

'If you consistently run through a cross, you have a 66% chance of being 'on'. Remember, oh dearly deluded, the cross is where the hare does not want you to venture...'

 

Back to reality, Pisswell led the charge left and deep into Decoy woods. With no marks manifesting themselves at a junction, the expeditionary force backtracked to find the check already kicked out. Whatamis...

 

A regroup cum sweetie stop at a long short split. The dazed Bird was in no mood for throwing in the towel. Psycho and Warm Front watched in awe as the mud-soaked apparition lurched over the gate and tottered onwards screeching the Bird battle cry: '

 

YO-OOOOOOO!'

 

Pisswell was flying and not for waiting. 'That's nice! It's not a race you know!' lamented the biter now bit. Only Ernie was left of the lost battalion. Manopause or Erection, whoever it was, had saluted and baled out of his blazing Messerschmitt 109.

 

We looked back. We were the last of the longs. It was an ill-omened night and we had no way of knowing how far Wet Johnny would take us into The Badlands (1973).

 

The threadbare armchair now seemed an attractive proposition.

 

I had no idea where we were - and I'd just been there (5 points) and left the navigating to Ernie who had forecast a barn en route which duly appeared portside.

 

Even taking two sneaky diagonals across the fields failed to make any telling impression on Pisswell who, from a distance, weirdly seemed to be skiing uphill. Delirium had set in.

 

Time seemed to have been suspended. A look at the watch revealed that we had only covered two miles. No way Pedro (no points). So much had happened. Perhaps it was a strange dream and I had never left my armchair...

 

A sparkling vista of lights unfolded below us as we swept round a corner.

 

'What do you think, Ernie? Is it Torquay or Newton Abbot? enquired the ancient bird.

 

'Look, there's Romany Jones cafe, we must be heading for the Barn Owl and perhaps up Zigzag quarry! exclaimed Ernie The Navigator (1988).

 

The Bird had ceased caring. It was chilly, he was weighed down with liquid mud and somehow fate had conspired for him to be marooned miles from home.

 

'How far back?' queried the Bird. 'Oh, about three miles - as the crow flies...'

 

As the intrepid hashers descended, a lowland mist enveloped them and they were lost from view.

Some said they made the Barn Owl for a swift half and regaled the bar staff with their adventures. Another unidentified source reported seeing a little old man being chased along the Newton Road by a tall runner, though a hastily despatched police car failed to find them.

 

Somehow, against all the odds, they careered back into Decoy woods and following the excellent marks, eventually staggered into the Corner Flag car park. Honey, we're home! (no points)

 

Yes, it had been quite an adventure. As for the claim that the Bird had taken a tumble on purpose - you try staging a purler when you're eighty-three mush!

 

I am indebted to my companion, Ernie. Without him, I would have struggled to find the trail and get back.

 

'The sun is setting, it's time to go

I've tarried too long Lord let me go...'

 

by kind permission, The Out of Tunas.

 

Down-Downs

Hash shirt to Bluebird for falling....and getting very lost

Horned Hat to Ernie for saving Bluebird (should be a RSPCB award)

Checking Chicken to the Hare (who's driving) so the Awarder, Psycho is nominated to take the DD. Additionally, there is a story about Psycho and a gender change!

Final half to Pocket Rocket for being "stupid" and commandeering all of the remaining sweets.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is from River Dart Country Park followed by Ashburton Arts Centre and FREE FOOD!

 

On-On to next week. MP and the Bird

Corner Flag - kick-off 7:15 pm!

 

Run #2062 Monday 10th February Circle up 7:15 pm from The Corner flag Bar, Devon FA, County Headquarters, Coach Rd, Newton Abbot TQ12 1EJ with Wet Johnny.

Price list for Monday’s hash below. Food can be ordered after the walk/run.

 

TVH3 The Words for 3rd February 2025

 

Newfoundland Road car park followed by The Cider Bar

Run No. 2061 

 

"Mud. Mud. Glorious Mud. Nothing quite like it....."

 

HARE: Beeflicker

 

Who wuz there: Beeflicker, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Beefy, Pisswell, Smellie, Red Rum, Warmfront, Psycho, Melonpicker, Soapy, Palmolive, Ablesemen, Coldtits, Satnav, Slip-on-Me, Roger the Dodger, Big End, Well Hopped, Wet Johnny, Fukarewe, Twiggy, Mateus Rose, Wide Receiver, a lady returnee/visitor (apologies, I didn't' get your name) and one virgin in the form of Wide Receiver's son (again, my apologies for not getting your name)

 

Circle

Twenty-six. Not a bad number for early February. I bet the Harriets are thankful that Fanuary is over......I wonder who got to do the judging this year - not me

Shitfaced welcomed Wide Receiver's son as a Teign Valley virgin and mentioned that the Awards' Night voting forms would be available in the pub afterwards. Additionally, subscriptions are now due but, as Threesum is currently sunning herself abroad, we've all got about a fortnight before the enforcer comes banging on our doors.

 

Smellie needs Hares for all of April.

 

Over to the Hare. Beeflicker's first comment was that, "It is muddy". The farm track opposite Wolborough Church (the infamous field forever known as the 'Slurry with the Flour on top') mmediately sprang to mind. We were given very precise distances; Walkers' trail 1.6 miles, Shorts' trail 3.7 miles and the Longs' at 5.1 English country miles.

 

Trail

The Longs' consisted of the usual suspects: Beefy, Wet-Johnny, Warm Front, Psycho, Pisswell and Man-Pig. Wide Receiver may well have been on the Longs as well but he was not seen again until we were back in the car park. He could have been well out in front but the absence of kicked-out checks suggested that he was probably chaperoning his son around the Shorts' trail.

 

The trail took us out of the car park and then up the uncomfortably steep Powderham Road and to the first of three Long/Short splits. Unbeknown to us, the Longs would be on their own for the rest of the trail; destined never to meet up with the Walkers or the shorts until the On-Down.

 

The Shorts and Walkers would have carried on uphill to Courtenay Road. Meanwhile, Warmfront led the Longs steeply down Tudor Road and then right into Tudor Close. Psycho was in hot pursuit and was particularly easy to follow by virtue of her glowing LED ankle bracelets - a prize from the TVH3 Christmas draw. My guess is that we then ran through one of the many alleyways in this part of town and into Webster Close, another alleyway and into Webster Road. Up some steep steps (part of a Melonpicker/Soapy trail from a couple of years ago) up Bowden Hill, yet another alleyway and finally a path up to Courtenay Road - the latter definitely virgin territory..

 

Here the Hare was waiting for us to ensure that we rejoined the Walkers and the Longs on the track that links Courtenay Road with Hilltop Meadow; across South Road and then another stepped alleyway downhill and onto College Road. A right and a left and downhill Penshurst Road to Coach Road. I was certain that we'd now be making a B-line straight to Wolborough church - Pete Tong. 

 

An arrow had us down the broad track into the back of Decoy Park. The marks up to this point had been excellent but by now they were few and far between - something with big tractor wheels had been up and down this lane recently and obliterated the marks. However, the tracks looked larger than those made by regular tractor tyres; bigger even than the Ford County. They were almost certainly made by a large articulated JCB style earth mover - a rubber duck.

 

The Hare was with us and relaying the obfuscated marks. At the end of the track, the trail took us right and over the top of a huge hill and towards Abbotskerswell. Once out of the woods, we were faced with something new. Over a quarter of a mile of Heras fencing separating the public footpath from open fields - regrettably now destined to be yet another housing estate. 

 

Newton Abbot is rapidly becoming a huge housing estate. Coach Road is used as a rat run and it is pretty narrow. Cars always have to stop or reverse to get past each other. Frankly, access is terrible so how on earth have Devon Highways allowed planning permission to go through on this development?

"Where are the jobs coming from for the occupants of all these new houses?" I ask Beefy.

"No jobs. Not even locals. This will be social housing for those displaced from Manchester and Liverpool. Rents are cheaper down here."

 

So, the beautiful Devon Countryside is destined to become a dumping ground for homeless from the big cities. One thing is for sure, there's precious little work down here and that which is available is not partcularly well paid. I rather fear for the future if this trend continues.

 

Party Political Broadcast over we reach the summit. A solitary post marked "Footpath". It points to our right and along the crest of the hill. We exit onto Stoneman's Hill and encounter a check. The Topiary Twins are checking out towards Abbotskerswell whilst Beefy checks out towards the cemetery. He is on. At the crest of Stoneman's Hill there is an arrow. As predicted, it is pointing into a field that is usually very boggy and particularly rutted due to cattle. I am always perplexed as to the physics that enables the top of a hill to become such a quagmire.

 

Another public footpath is marked along the eastern flank of a steeply descending hill. In front of us, we can see the floodlit Wolborough church. Again, and as predicted, a very boggy patch just before we left the field. The track past the farm is usually pretty even but not tonight, Josephine. Again, evidence of rubber duck movement abounds.

 

At the church, we meet up with Pisswell who appears to have taken a little detour (SCB more like). We now descend down the footpath opposite to the junction between the Old Totnes Road and the A381. It will now be right and a short canter back to the car park. In truth, not as muddy as I had thought after heeding the Hare's warnings. Wong. Wong. Wong.

 

Feck me! An arrow.....and it is not pointing towards Newton Abbot. It is pointing towards Bakers Park. OK, just a little loop past Safeway I thought.

 

I thought wrong. Another arrow had us slip-sliding our way up one side of the River Lemon towards East Ogwell. Eventually, we reach the small footbridge and it is back down the other side of the Lemon towards Newton Abbot - but not towards Safeway. 

 

The Hare is with us to impart guidance but the marks are now fine. At this point, I get a little disorientated. I am pretty sure that we follow a footpath that leads onto Hunterswell Road. 

 

Eventually, we end up on Barton Drive. We cross Barton Drive and find ourselves climbing up the steps to Broadlands. 

 

Just below the microwave transmitter for mobile phones, we look back from our vertiginous viewpoint. Beeflicker points out whence we came to Psycho. In the distance, is the floodlit tower of Wolborough church.

 

"Have we just run past there?", enquires Psycho incredulously. Yes indeedee!

 

The final part of the trail (well, final for everyone except Beefy who has his own special "B" trail to follow right at the end) takes us along Brownhill's Road and St Anne's Court, up a short flight of steps and to the corner of Halcyon Road and Highweek Street. Almost straight across Highweek Street and through a very grand gate with large stone pillars to either side, a short stretch of footpath and onto Fisher Road and then we drop onto and across Halcyon Road. 

 

At Victoria Road, we come to the "B'. Man-Pig's name does not begin with a B so I follow the marks through the pedestrianised centre of Newton Abbot and then back to the car park.

 

Not so all of the other FRB's who have all decided to be Beefy for the night. They all elect to undertake the "B" trail...and it does have its benefits; albeit for the Harriets only. 

 

The "B" trail runs past Newton Abbot fire station. There is a training exercise (or, perhaps a real call out) at the fire station. There are a lot of hunky men in uniform. Pisswell shouts out, "Oh look. Firemen!" The firemen are a little embarrassed but, perhaps, not quite as embarrassed as Psycho and Warmfront who elect to get a bit of a push on and disassociate themselves with the swooning Pisswell.

Soon the FRB's find themselves back on trail. Well, not quite all. Beefy is off trail and running back towards them....on a trail dedicated solely to him. How could he have possibly got lost?

 

Down-Downs

The RA welcomes everyone to The Cider Bar for Run No. 2062 and, "Has anyone got a story?"

Warmfront has one. It is about Wet-Johnny wanting to kiss Beefy at the kissing gate. Wet-Johnny is driving so he nominates Big End to take the DD on his behalf. A note for the "notionally nominated homosexual". 

 

There is also another story about Wet-Johnny entertaining himself in his car....looking at his groin and pretending to be on Candycrush (a computer game - apparently) but Wet-Johnny avoids having to pass on another nomination.

 

Man-Pig has been given the Checking Chicken hat by Fukarewe as Fukarewe had to leave straight after the run. This is awarded to "Pisswell"..... well, not exactly. It is actually awarded to Psycho. Initially, it was going to be awarded for Psycho's recent move to India in order to escape the clutches of the Teign Valley groper. This was superseded by the misdemeanour of going to the loo just as the Down-Downs were about to be dished out. Whilst Pyscho is powdering her nose, another story emerges. 

 

Apparently, FRB'ing Psycho elected to mark the direction of the trail, not by kicking out a check, but by washing away the relevant part of the circumference in.......ahem.....urine! Hence a note for "Pisswell".....and didn't you go red when this story was recited!

 

Pisswell gets a half pint of lovely, raspberry cider for swooning. Is it the big red shiny fire engines that so enchanted Pisswell? Or perhaps it's the uniform - the shiny brass helmets or maybe the glint of a recently sharpened chopper? We never find out. Nonetheless, there is a note for the "enchanted chopper lover".

 

We are running out of stories so the final half goes, again, to Big End. This was for being an uncharitable mechanic. Just before the run, the Pig was explaining that he was using his wife's old car. It doesn't get used very much and develops a misfire due to a damp build up in the distributor. Big End's comment to Well Hopped; "Make sure we leave before Man-Pig". A note for the "unhelpful mechanic".

Finally, a big thank you to the pub for supplying the Down-Downs. In fact, we were the only customers that they had which is a shame. Poacher should have been here...so many ciders to choose from.

 

Well, not quite finally. I think our Hare deserves a big "Thankyou" also. This is for an excellent and surprisingly shiggy trail and, additionally, in lieu of having received a Down-Down. All very enjoyable and a pleasant change to wash it down with a cider.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is from The Corner Flag, Devon FA, Court Road, Newton Abbot with Hare, Wet-Johnny. If the marks are still there form the previous week's Hash, Wet-Johnny can relay it - but anti-clockwise! No?

 

On-On to next week, M-P.