NH3 @ The Ship Inn, Benton – 26 Feb 2020

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Okay, you’ve got the idea. If you don’t get the reference you’re too young to drink.

And now here they are! The most haredevil group of hooched-up hashers ever to hash their heels in the A-to-B-sies! R*nners are approaching tonight’s A pub, the Ship Inn, led by The Count Hill Mob in his Bulletproof Beerwagon. Next, Floppy Flopfect in the Sandal Supreme, Pimpus Buzzcut in the Baldwagon, and Pop Pending in his T-shirt and shorts. Here’s the Slippery Slag Brother in his Speed-O-Car. Stalking him is the Gruesome Gripsome and manouevering for the toilet, the Lubri Surplus Special. Late to the line is Max Red Balls in his Chafing Chariot – he’s gone for an early bog break, cunningly crowding out Lubri’s attempt to take a dump. And here we have the lovely Cindy Sinstop, the Hot Harriet of the Hash. There’s still no sign of the hare, Krazy Kuai in his Chinese Chuggabug – and where, we all ask, is the double-zero Totes Totelly with his sidekick Bellski? Up to no good, I’ll wager!

Five minutes before starting time, the r*nners are raring to go and the hare finally arrives. They’re outside for a chalk talk. It looks like delaying tactics – Kuai is introducing new markings, including titty and cock checks where only harriets or hashers are allowed to seek trail. Looks like Cindy Sinstop will have her work cut out for her tonight! There’s also three different colours of chalk, because the halfbrained hare forgot to bring enough flour.

They’re under starter’s orders. The Count Hill Mob has already gone – with his underworld connections he’s learnt the location of the B and blasted off in his Bulletproof Beerwagon on the most impressive shortcut of the year so far!

They’re off! It’s an early lead from Cindy Sinstop as the trail loops right round behind the Ship then back onto the Front Street. Crossing the road it’s Floppy Flopfect, then Pimpus Buzzcut, then Pop Pending simply laughing at the 2º weather conditions. They’re into the back streets where the Slippery Slag Brother challenges for the lead. Out onto Coach Lane they hit the first of the titty checks – all the hashers stand around while Cindy Sinstop goes looking for flour.

“Why, ah do declah! Wheah evah will li’l old me find some li’l old flour?”

Pop Pending invents an idea.

“Let’s have some honorary Harriets,” he lightbulbs. “So Cindy doesn’t have to do all the checking.”

He’s rubber-stamped the Gruesome Gripsome and Max Red Balls. But it’s too late – Cindy has already found true trail and is out in front, heading south! The rest of the Hash skedaddle after her.

There’s a right, then a left, then a right, then a left, then maybe another left. Krazy Kuai has these Hashers all over the show. Onto a stretch of grass where they find a set of balance beams for kids – they’re straight on there. Floppy Flopfect shakes a sandal right off the side. The Chafing Chariot stutters across the steps – sounds like an engine misfire. The Slippery Slag Brother bashes his club across the balance bar, then slips on off. Cindy Sinstop is in last place right now but catches up with a point-perfect tiptoe traverse.

More back streets – another left, a right, right, left, left – these hashers have no idea where they are. FRBs are coming thick and fast, now it’s Pimpus Buzzcut out in front, then Floppy Flopfect, then the Slag Brother. They’re onto a carriageway and suddenly they know what they’re doing – Pimpus is leaving them all behind, they’re steaming along with the Chafing Chariot in last place.

They’re amazed to find themselves already at the beer stop. It’s the Newton Park – the surprise is scintillating, but there’s no hesitation in the charge to the bar. Krazy Kuai is first to get there, but – it had to happen sooner or later! – they find Totes Totelly and Bellski already lying in wait for them!

“Aye, we got here before the Count Hill Mob,” Totes sneers.

“Hhhhhe-he-he-he-he!” snickers Bellski.

The Lubri Surplus Special is propping up the bar, pint in hand. He eyes the r*nners as they straggle in, then goes out for a fag.

This pit stop takes some time. The barmaid almost seems unhappy at how many of them there are, until they start handing over money for beer. Eventually the Chinese Chuggabug is on the move again.

“Two minute warning!”

“We’ve only r*n about a mile,” rumbles Pimpus Buzzcut. “How far to the B pub?”

But the hare isn’t telling. He just points an elbow, and they’re on out heading west.

On the carriageway again with Pop Pending in the lead, shoes straight into the shiggy, Floppy Flopfect dallying behind him.

“These shoes are practically new,” he protests.

“Mine stink of ze shit,” announces Max Red Balls as he slops past in his Chafing Chariot. “Cannot get any vorse…”

They’re on through the shiggy beside the carriageway, then across it to the south. Back streets again, the looming shape of the Freeman Hospital beckoning them to Freeman Road and across to the green above the Dene for a stop check. The Chinese Chuggabug pulls up.

“Check it out, it’s there somewhere,” Krazy Kuai tells them.

There are hashers all over the place. It’s almost as if Totes Totelly had laid the trail – or removed it! But here’s the Slippery Slag on flour and in the lead, following trail down into the Dene! It’s steep and steppy in there, slidey and slimy underfoot. Nobody’s sure who’s in the lead for a while. Pimpus and Pop Pending hold an FRB conference on a humpback bridge to figure it out.

They’re following trail through bushes in almost total darkness now. Here’s a big rock in a clearing – Pimpus has stopped, is he going to bash it into a car?

“Does that say Beer Near?”

Indeed it does! The hashers are hunting around in the brambles now, torches essential. The Chinese Chuggabug is blowing cold-warm-hot as they get closer to… a red placca bag full of beer!

This is amazing, race fans. A simple bag of cans has put a big smile on every face and brought the entire Hash to a dead halt. Totes Totelly has sure missed out on this one. The Chafing Chariot has doused his headlights and is calling for others to do the same; they’re enjoying the starlight in a moment of hasherly love.

Soon the beer’s finished and they’re on out again. Pop Pending is in the lead, he’s found true trail leading – uphill? Between trees? OVER trees?

“Just when we were really starting to like your trail,” puffs Pimpus, “you pull this shit on us…”

The Hash struggle uphill through sticky shiggy including actual tree trunks. The Chafing Chariot is in its element here and flies briefly into first place before hitting an FRB. Then Floppy Flopfect seizes the lead, closely followed by Pimpus, Slippery, Cindy, Gripsome, and Pop. It’s mud and darkness for the next five minutes until they find themselves crossing the little footbridge at the Dene’s north end.

They’re onto Matthew Bank. Max Red Balls has gone the wrong way and is now bringing up the rear. The trail leads them into the back streets of South Gosforth – Slippery Slag Brother thinks he knows the B now and he’s off like a flash. Flopfect’s behind him, Gripsome on his heels, Pimpus and Pop closing in, so only Cindy and the Chafing Chariot follow Krazy Kuai through the cobbled back streets to the correctly-initialled Brandling Villa.

Crossing the line, they find Totes Totelly and Bellski lying in wait for them! What do the dastardly GM duo have in store for our racers?

“It’s okay, I got here first with the beer,” announces the Count Hill Mob. The blessed Bulletproof Beerwagon has indeed won this race, with the Lubri Surplus Special coming in second, fag in hand!

Krazy Kuai pulls a set of bunny ears out of the Chinese Chuggabug. They’re forced upon the incoming hare, Max Red Balls, as he attempts to convince the Hash that he’ll be sober enough to lay trail on Sunday morning. Pimpus then announces the winner of the T.W.A.T. contest – it’s the Chafing Chariot, with the Ship’s Cat r*n for including the Shields Ferry Terminal!

That’s right folks, it’s now official – Chafing is the biggest T.W.A.T. in Newcastle!

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