Polly & Swamps’s Little Hash to the Pike

Pres & Todays’ Hare: Swampthing Other Hare: Polly has really huge tits.

Hash Cash: The invisible Give Me Your Head, who since rehooking up with her now booted out ex, presently current love child, is doing just that. Polly is tired of leaving messages with your daughter, as I’m sure, so is she.

Horn: The almost invisible Decoy who should be renamed given his past 2 experiences of location and time. Although we don’t want to get too mean as none of us are birhgt enough or motivated enough to do the website, and it really was only Everyday who for the past 2 hashes has faithfully come, only to be directed to the wrong spot and the wrong time.

Hash Trash: Me and my faithful ghost

Hash #: Again, I don’t know but the 4^th or 5^th trash I have written in the past 2 months (actually it is #542).

The Run:

The inspiration for this trash again is following the theme of cranial power, or the lack therof. Last trash pounded the virtues of Lisa, the brainless Hooters bimbo and this Trash the theme is continued with advice from NFB – No Fucking Brains (who extolled the virtues of writing absolute unrelated garbage (hence the name Trash) to the Hash in question).

We met supposedly opposite Al's booby bar, except there is no carpark opposite. Although the people in Al’s parking lot look like a berry lot of losers – perfect Hashers. Nope, that small gravel strip by the tunnel must be it. More beery looking losers who won’t be getting the benefit of going to a titty bar.

Present were Everyday, Deathwish, NFB, Moron, and myself. There may have been someone else, but I don’t recall. NFB can simply be summarized as being on marathon mode. Running at least 3 extra miles for the hell of it. Sometimes confusing the pack to follow until we worked out that we didn’t want to scale every hill for fartlek training and run down every “F”.

Moron found a very well preserved dead red fox, the highlight of the run. He then took it upon himself to collect odds and ends along the railway track, but finally gave up. We ran around like Headless Chooks somewhere between the Post Office and Alvernia. While Swamp and Polly sniggered at us from the safety of their car. Everyday showed some signs of mental midgetness by recommending that we wait for NFB who was busy doing a quick detour up the mountain. Pounding down the streets of Reading, we eventually came to rest at The Pike. Really nice Hash – short and sweet. On-On.

For those of you who complain that the Trash is too small for you to read:

Wear Your Fucking Glasses