NH3 @ The Harbour View, Sunderland – 26 Nov 2019


5. And God saw that the wickedness of the Hash was great in Newcastle, and that every imagination of the thoughts of their hearts was only booze continually. 6. And the LORD said, I will wash away this Hash, and everything else as well; for it repenteth me greatly that I did give them beer. 7. But the GM did hear the LORD in His grumbling, and thus he beseeched Him; yea, o LORD, though Ye waxeth wroth with the Hash, they’re not so bad really; verily, they do usually r*n a bit, before they give themselves unto drink; sometimes they even have food.

8. These are the generations of the GM: Bella did make the decisions but left Totem Pole to sort it all out; and another named Slippery was not to be found, lest it be in the Garden with that apple again; and the years of Totem Pole were six hundred and odd.

9. And the LORD gave ear to the GM’s plea, and did say unto him: Totem, I give ye one last chance. Ye must take your Hash for a good healthy r*n, and this is the measure of it: it shall be twenty thousand cubits long, and there shall be shiggy, and it shall not involve any goddamn drink. 10. The GM did ask: LORD, how long is a cubit? And the LORD did tell him, it’s from My elbow to the tip of this finger; and the LORD did show the GM His middle finger. 11. And the GM was sore disgruntled, and made to absent himself from the presence of the LORD. 12. But the LORD said unto him: there WILL be shiggy, for I shall send upon the Earth a great flood, and it shall proper piss it down for forty days and forty nights, and mebbes even a bit longer, depends how I feel at the time.

13. The GM did ask, LORD, how then shall I lay the trail? Will not the flour all wash away? 14. And the LORD did remind him of the cubit, by showing the GM His middle finger.


1. And so it came to pass that rain fell upon the Earth for forty days and forty nights. And Totem did labour mightily to gather unto him the children of Hashrael and to make for them a trail which might be pleasing in the eyes of the LORD. 2. Eleven of them he did gather unto him, and warned them of what the LORD did intend. 3. Great was the gnashing of teeth when he mentioned the twenty thousand cubits; tears did flow when he mentioned the no drink bit. 4. Moved by their plight, the GM made covenant with them: we shall go to Sunderland, he told them, for it is the last place God made, and He won’t look for us there; and we’ll have a nice short r*n and some beers after, and we’ll have a bit of scran as well to soak it up; and the LORD’s got other stuff on anyway, so He probably won’t notice. 5. And the Hash did rejoice at his plan, for they saw it was good. But the GM had not warned them of the inundation promised by God.

6. Totem’s mind was troubled by thought of the great flood, and he caused photographic clues to be sent to the Hash, so that they might follow his trail even though it be washed away. 7. And the clues were wack, and so did the Hash ignore them completely; yea, some even brought not their torches. 8. And so it came to pass that they foregathered at the Harbour View in the godforsaken city of Sunderland; and even Five Kwai did arrive on time, mostly thanks to Cinderella’s driving, though Chafing laboured mightily to delay them. 9. Woofers and Counterfit there were, and Trees Are and Gripper, and Frogsporn and Pimp; and Lubri and Mindphuck did walk. 10. And lo, the rain did fall, and kept on falling.

Sunderland Hash 1.jpeg


1. The GM spake unto his Hash: on out, and seek ye the flour, for it is but newly laid. 2. And so they began to seek them the flour, but within the first five minutes they were sore lost. 3. Unto them the GM rendered no assistance, for he stayed at the back, and let them wander about the back streets, yea, like unto the sheep in the field, who have no clue whither they are bound. 4. Around the marina they did r*n, paying no heed to the FRBs, and lo, they came upon a check at the edge of the beach. 5. And Chafing Bollocks did say, one of them clue pics was of the beach; come, let us r*n down that way, surely that’s a good idea. 6. And the tide did come in, and that Chafing is no Moses, and he did lead Pimp and Cinders right through the sea, whilst the sensible r*nners followed the actual trail on the prom.

Sunderland hash 2.jpeg

7. On up the prom they went, two by two, until the GM shouted them back, for he had laid his trail into Roker Park. 8. And so they did lose themselves repeatedly in the Park, for they had no idea what they were doing, and were indeed like unto headless chickens, or a herd of cats with a vet after them. 9. A boating lake they passed, where Trees Are did ask, is it usually a lake, or just tonight; and the Hash did agree that it was a fair question. 10. In the end the GM did direct them out of the park, where flour they had seen them none, and led them back onto the prom; and they did find themselves in Granny Annie’s, where beer is served. 11. Counterfit and Woofers pronounced then that they would head straight back, because it was upon them to drive, and anyway fuck this rain. 12. And so the rest of the Hash did drink, but lo, the beer was like unto vinegar, and their complaints arose to the heavens; such that the GM did shush them, for if the LORD heard what he was up to, Christ knows what he would do. 13. And Chafing did dustbin the vinegary beer, for he is a sick puppy.


1. The children of Hashrael clamoured for their liberation. Lead us back to the first pub, they pleaded; make short the way, for it’s proper pissing it down, and it waxeth cold. 2. And the GM did take pity upon them, and told them to r*n by the straightest way. 3. And lo, the distance was not great; it certainly wasn’t twenty thousand cubits, not by a hell of a stretch. Five minutes they r*n to the On Inn, maybe ten at the outside. 4. And great was their joy upon sighting the pub; except those who had not brought dry clothes, who gave a great wailing and gnashing of teeth.

5. Pimp was their RA, and lo, he called the circle within the very pub itself; let us circle inside, he said to them, for it yet pisses from the heavens. 6. But singing there shall be none, yea, nor too much noise, for the place is packed with the football crowd, and anyway it’s Sunderland. 7. And in the circle there were but few charges: one for idiots r*nning into the sea; one for not enough flour; everyone for missing FRBs. 8. Then did the GM open his basket and give food unto them, and lo, they did knock it back like greedy bastards.

9. On the way back the LORD did remember his covenant with the GM, and spake unto him: did you take your Hash on a decent r*n, Totem? 10. And Totem did cover his face, and then thought better of it, and said unto the LORD: course I did, you were watching over us, right? 11. And the LORD did mumble a bit, then agreed that yes, of course He was, and it was a good twenty thousand cubits. 12. And lo, the rain did cease, and dry weather was upon the face of the Earth.

NH3 @ The Earl of Pitt Street – Wednesday 13th November



The rain has finally stopped so we’ve decided to make a break for it. Our base at the Earl of Pitt Street can provide beer for only so long. Mindphuck is going to lead. Pop’s going to attempt to walk to safety with Lubri and Totem; the rest of us will attempt to r*n. Visibility is good due to the full moon. Conditions are cold but dry, and so quiet – for now…


Five Kuai has arrived. Pressed for time, we made him strip down to his shorts and vest in the street.


We have traversed the Science Central glacier and begun ascent of the Westgate Road, via the Brewery Lane face. Kuai and Chafing have taken point. We’re relying on them to find the route.


We appear to be lost. The pack is desperately searching for more flour at the Big Lamp junction – I hope we find something soon. There’s some noise behind us which may be the hare.


Mindphuck has called us back. We’re attempting the rear approach to Stanhope via the back streets. Hope she knows what she’s doing; anything could happen out there.


Concerns about our leader. She says it “all looks different in the dark”. Morale remains high for now, but I wonder what will happen if the weather sets in. We don’t want a repeat of what the Mormons went through.


We’ve made it across Stanhope Street. The trail’s led us into the back streets again, and now we’re beginning to lose contact with the sherpas at the rear. We must press on.


We’ve made it to a stop check on Beaconsfield but we’ve lost the hare. There’s confusion here; nobody’s sure what to do. About five metres away there’s a local couple having a domestic in the back kitchen of the house. I think they’re wondering why we’re standing out here.


Still waiting. Counterfit has begun shouting ON ON at the top of his voice. The domestic is getting louder. Om decided to go and look for Mindphuck; we sent Gripper with him in case the locals prove hungry.


Mindphuck reappears at last. She’s backtracked along her own trail from a quarter mile ahead, having got completely lost in the back streets. She says she’ll never live it down; we hope we live out the night. Frostbite is beginning to afflict the party. Om and Gripper are still not in sight. Frogsporn goes to chase them down.


We’re on out again. Passed a police car heading for our stop check.


We’ve crossed the Nuns Moor icefield and negotiated Barrack Road. FRBs starting to appear now, I think Frogsporn and Om have dodged the police. Maybe we’ll get through this after all.

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Slippery finds signs of life. It looks like there was drink available here at one time, and pretty cheap too. It seems we’re heading east again, into the back alleys of Newcastle University.


Lost again. From fresh flour we’ve ended up on last week’s trail, still not washed away despite the incessant rain. Local fauna is mostly students, which I think are used to us by now. Long argument about whether we’re going the right way or not.


Mindphuck has corrected her trail by adding an arrow and pretending she hasn’t. We’re now heading back over Richardson Road and into the maze-like space of Leazes Park. If you find this account, notify my wife and children.


Gripper is miles ahead of us. He somehow read the trail right and has explored the park – great fortune, saving us considerable checking. For a moment we thought fog was about to envelop us, but it’s just a gang of lads chonging a spliff.


A brief halt at the lake where we commemorated Hashers of old who fell in – poor Touch & Go. Treasure Chest did the photographic work. Gripper, very diligent on this expedition, has been careful to do the bunny ears on the hare.

leazes photo.jpg


We have made it through the park and onto Leazes Terrace. More FRBs here, though apparently some were missed – conditions make it impossible to stop for long. Fingers becoming too numb to write. I hope someone finds our bodies before the thaw…


We have reached the beer stop! The Strawberry is nice and warm inside, and the wa*kers are here just ahead of us. General amazement at this haring success. Pints all round.


On out for the final stretch. Morale is high now, we have hopes of reaching safety after all.


We’re back where we started.


The circle was brief, delayed slightly by Frogsporn taking pictures of the pub. Mindphuck was welcomed to her 69th year and down-downed for getting lost on her own trail. Missed FRBs were called on most of the Hash – I think the freezing weather has confused the minds of some – before the Social Sex were called out by Kuai for either being, or not being, on the Fash last weekend. The ever-present threat of cannibalism is staved off by the discovery of cake stores, and provisions of chips and nachos.

NH3 @ The Wellington, Riding Mill – 4th Nov 2019


“I’m ever so tired,” Slow White gasped. “I’ve been r*nning through these dark and freezing woods for such a long time. Oh my, what’s that sign? It says The Wellington. It must be a public house – maybe I’ll just sneak in and rest for a while.”

When she entered the pub she found a roaring fire, and seven beers set around a table, so neat and foamy that nobody could say otherwise. Slow White was so very thirsty that she took a little sip from each beer, and then fell asleep in the corner.

Meanwhile, out in the woods, the seven drunks were making their way back to the pub. They had started at the pub, but they were also trying to make their way back to the pub. That’s why they were called the seven drunks: because there were seven of them, and they’d all had a few.

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Chesty not shown

There was Harey, who was really Story; and Sweaty; and Fivey; and Sporny; and Count; and Pimpy; and Chesty. They had all met up at The Wellington to go for a r*n, but as usual they ended up drinking beer instead, and so they didn’t go r*nning until very late, when it was very dark. Story was the latest of all, which made all the other drunks very surprised.

“Was it the evil Queen who delayed you?” asked Count.

“Did you eat a dodgy apple?” asked Sporny.

“No, the train was late,” said Story.

“Why didn’t you r*n all the way going wee wee wee?” asked Sweaty.

“Because that’s a different fairy tale, you dipshit,”Chesty told him.

“It’s not even a fairy tale, it’s a nursery rhyme,” said Fivey. And soon they were all arguing.

“For god’s sake let’s get on with it,” said Pimpy. “It’s five past seven and Kwai’s been here for ages.”

“Right then,” said Story. “Five ways, check ’em out.”

And so began the r*n. When they finally found the trail it took them into the railway station, and across the tracks, and into the woods near Riding Mill Burn. The woods were dark, and full of wild animals, none of which dared go near the drunks who were swearing loudly and shining their bright shiny torches everywhere.

“Is that a check?” asked Fivey.

“I’m not sure,” said Story. “It looked different when I laid it because it was daylight.”

“Oh shit,” said Sweaty. “Remember the last time we heard that?”

But there were no charva domestics in the woods, just wild animals scared shitless of the noisy drunks.

Soon they came to the stepping stones across the burn. All the drunks were up for crossing the stones, and none of them threw the scribe a bone by falling in. Before long the trail took them across a footbridge, which meant that in the greatest traditions of the Hash, they went a long way to end up back where they had started.

They r*n past some nice big houses which made them all go oo and aa. They r*n up some big steep hills, some of them completely covered in shiggy, with a morley at the top which made them all go shit and balls. They r*n across a great big road which was called the A695. They ran up some more big long hills in Whiteside Wood, which made them huff and puff and blow your house – sorry, wrong fairy tale again.

Story had put FRBs in lots of clever places, including in both the kissing gates they went through. Sweaty got the first one and Sporny gave him a kiss. Think that’s another fairy tale as well.

They r*n through some farmer’s fields and even tried to r*n through a farm before Story called them back. Soon the drunks got really tired of running up big hills and started bitching about it.

“It’s okay,” said Story. “We’re going to cross the motorway again and then we go down a big hill.”

Count fell over. He was okay though, and most of the drunks didn’t even stop.

Just like Story said, they r*n down a big long hill. This cheered the drunks up no end, and one of them sang out:


And they all replied with:


On On, On On

We haven’t got a song

It’s cold as balls and the trail’s dead long

On On, On On

At the bottom of the big hill they all thought they would find a beer stop, or maybe the first pub. In fact it was just more houses.

“How fucking big is Riding Mill?” asked Pimpy. “Where’s it all coming from? And how’s it only got one pub?”

“That’s a nice old church,” said Fivey.

“Do you think they’ve got beer?” asked Sweaty.

“Of course they don’t have beer, they drink wine,” Chesty told him.

“There’s a sign. It says graveyards are dangerous,” said Sporny.

“Of course they’re dangerous, you can die in one,” said Pimpy.

“Would anyone like a shortcut?” asked Story.

They all said yes, apart from Count who had already taken a shortcut.

So Story sent them up another bit of hill.

“Definitely the last bit of hill, I promise,” he told them.

This time it really was the last bit of hill. There was a lovely big house with trippy Christmas lights all over it, and another bit of village full of wild middle class people, who were too scared to come to their windows and see who were these idiots yelling ON ON at this hour.

And then they saw the Wellington at the end of the street. And they were so happy that they went and stood in the car park and drank beers.

And there they found Slow White, aroused from her slumber.

“That’s not her name, it’s Poppins,” said Chesty. “You’ve got the wrong fairytale again.”

They gave her a down-down for not even bothering with the wa*ker’s trail which Story had laid. Count got down-downed for missing four different FRBs. Pimpy then told a tale.

“We have travelled far and wide all across the land,” he told them. “This may be the widest-ranging year for the Hash yet. We’ve even been to Consett, for Christ’s sake.”

“But what about Little Red Riding Mill?” asked Sweaty.

They all looked at him.

“That’s a different fucking fairy tale,” Chesty told him.

“Oh right,” he said. “I think that’s the one I meant to do.”

And then they went to the pub.