microTrash

RUN 1175 - SCRIBE: Dunny Penny - Started prompt Pope-time 19.15 and then went up the lane, down the lane, up the lane, down the lane, up the lane, passing Rentboy with a pint of beer, down the lane, up the lane, down the lane, up the lane, passing Teapot with a pint of beer, down the lane, up the lane, down the lane, up the lane, down the lane, passing Pope with a pint of beer, up the lane, down the lane, up the lane, down the lane and than back to the pub after 40 minutes.

RUN 1174 - SCRIBE: Teapot - I was asked to write a little something about last nights run but I have no idea who to send it to so hopefully it ends up where it is suppose to.

First off, the P-trail was interesting. I've seen difficult and creatively awkward P-trails before but I think this one qualified as the winner on both counts. The Ps were pointing into corners, not around. The P-trail was also drawn, not on the ground, but on the walls for hashers of the spider persuasion. Incidentally, I didn't see these marks until after the run on the way back to the station. The fact that my wife and I actually found the pub has more to do with being lucky, but it certainly added some spice to the evening as we were already running late and franticly trying to recover the P-trail which we kept on losing.

I had not been to Ealing Broadway before but it seems like everyone else actually lives there and it was a vicariously enjoyed a run through memory lane. The run took us along some beautiful foot paths and beside lovely plots where the men-folk escape from their wives on Sunday afternoons to grow tomatoes, or so it was explained to me. The trail itself was wonderfully well marked with a nice mix of falsies and worthwhile shortcuts for SCBastards like myself.

All in all the run was absolute rubbish, the highest honor a hare can hope to achieve.

RUN 1170 - SCRIBE: Mac - By the law of averages it was my turn to write the micro-trash, I'd noticed Wacker's beady eye wandering in my direction on several occasions! To set the scene, I'd missed the last 3 runs mainly due to location and holiday, so I was really looking forward to getting back to WLH3 for my weekly outing. The weather had certainly warmed up since Tuesday when I ran on the "other hash"! There was a slight breeze and a light shower had made it a little greasy under foot but generally ok for the hash!

As usual I left work late had arrived at Brixton Tube Station late! I'd never been to Brixton before and it was manic, people everywhere!! I eventually found the "P" Trail but the marks were small and difficult to see, but with tracker skills I found my way to the D of E. From the outside the Pub looked quite small but once inside it was like the "TARDIS", I'll elaborate later! Once inside I realised I wasn't that late as there was only 9 other souls there. So we waited until Tango and Rentboy arrived at 7.15pm, the total was 14 Hashers for run 1170 WLH3. Before the off, "Pope" announced that 14 was lowest number of hashers since 1992 in Pinner! Returning Hasher A2 was there but no virgins or guests.

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RUN 1169 - SCRIBE: Cyst Pit - Just like Mr Happy from those wonderful story books Pope on this particular Thursday was fat and round AND happy. I suspect Mr happy doesn't drink as much or talk as much as our own Pope ... actually in the updated versions of the book maybe he does which would explain why todays tearaways are the way they are. I digress. This Thursdays run happened to fall on Valentine's day and by order of the Pope, the GM and the hare it was to be a red dress run ... not forgetting the constant reminders emailed out in the shape of unsightly photography by the idiot with a copy of photoshop and limited skills. Limited skills or not the pack was 99.9% dressed red ... yes even Eric. [Proof of both facts will be provided later in the form of photos. Light refeshments also available.]

I'll be honest with you I don't remember much because I've written this weeks after the event (better late than never hey .. Rambo ... Airhead ...yes shame on you). I do remember a couple of things though:

i) Propping up the bar in the aptly named "The King and Queen" listening to stories from (dressed in red) Ships in the desert and Looberty (in a red dress). Guess that made me the fool. Why were we there and not at the hash pub? Simply bad navigation - we 'checked' too far and failed to pick up the pack after that. Minimal negotiations got us to the nearest pub untill it was time to head back to HQ a.k.a. The Stags Head.

ii) A very scary dress on possibly a very scary hasher (Mudplug). I couldn't comment being too afraid to go near the chap. I'm sure he's a good egg, but the dress was just too low cut and figure hugging and anyway I didn't want to see his eggs.

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RUN 1165 - SCRIBE: LunchBox - Once again I am left holding the bloody baby. But the crowning turd in the water pipe on this occasion is that they appear to have been scribbled by a dyslexic necrophiliac whilst carrying out his envious task. I am afraid that I have failed as yet to learn parrot fashion all the hash handles, but I have overcome this slight obstacle by either guessing, or just writing bollox which is nothing new……

A meagre gathering of the West London chapter of the world famous Hash House Harriers this week occurred outside the world famous pub the Tabard, of communist ill repute in Turnham Green, which once hit the headlines as the meagre gathering point for the British spymaster line dancing quins – the Cambridge 5. But that was long ago, they’re all dead, and no one cares anyway.

Outside, Bhopal explained the trail in his own inimitable fashion, quietly, that the trail was flat, urban and long, and the on was in that direction. The pack set off at a great rate of knots, led by the heroic 'Lunchbox' who led them straight into a housing estate which was exiting. Left, right, left and straight, interspersed with the occasional steps and dead end, saw the pack once again in a housing estate, this time led by 'WXYZ' (Insert own hash name). The pack by this time had nicely spread out and cries of 'mercy', 'regroup at the next check' and 'bollox to this' were heard, but completely ignored by anyone within earshot, which is what Hashing is all about.

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RUN 1164 - SCRIBE: LunchBox - NB. I wrote this in German because Cyst Pit threw the notes at me with a casual 'Oy Lunchbox, write these up for next week will ya'. That’ll teach him, yeah!

Wir haben heute in eine sehr nette kneipe in Putney, fußnahe zu Bahnhof getroffen. Fast sofort habe ich eine Besucherin kennengelernt, Äußern ganz entfernen in Grenada, 'Loop Lover'. Naja, hat nicht so lange gedauert dann komme die Dränglers, erstmal 'Cystpit', 'Whacker', 'Bully' und so viel anderer dass ich die ganze Namen komplett vergessen habe. Bin ich eine Dorf Trottel oder was?

Unser lauf war geleitet von 'Pickled Fart' und war ziemlich schnell an anfang, aber das tempo war doch langsamer später. Durch weit und breit, Schlamm matsch und putze hat ungefähr 25 Läufer eine Schnitzeljagd gefolgt für knapp über eine stunde, eine ganz große runder, und zurück zu unserer Kneipe, die 'Green Man'.

Wie bei jeder 'Hash', strafe muss sein. Unser lauf Leiter 'Pickled Fart' hat einer 'Down Down' bekommen für seine arbeit, 'Pope' auch fur, naja, weil 'Pope' Papst ist, 'Loop Lover' für nette besuch, und 'Mac' für seine Glatze, die die ganze weg in dunkel beleuchtet hat!

ON ON zu Schnitzeljagd Nr 1165 in Turnham Green – die Kneipe Tabard.

RUN 1161 - SCRIBE: Freeloader - Having spent all of my time with the West London on the shadowy fringes and remaining happily anonymous to most. I found myself summoned into the circle told I was to be scribe and awarded a down down to seal the bargain. I half expected to find the Kings shilling in the bottom.

It was a cold damp night when a select pack gathered outside the Express Tavern in Kew. Right from the start the omens were not good, the hare had used unfamiliar markings, crosses instead of circles to represent checks and used horrible phrases like "when you reach Richmond". I do not recall seeing any form of check or end of false trail during the run in fact scarcity of any trail markings was a much remarked on feature of the night. Those that existed were neat and tidy and almost invisible to the naked eye unless you are very close to the ground.

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RUN 1160 - SCRIBE: Cyst Pit - Flat, shiggyless, not a blade of grass to be seen: this can only mean we're in the Oxford Circus area and it's Popes Christmas Pressie run. Popes celebrity guest (Chris Evans) didn't draw the crowds and the pack appeared to be thinner(20) than normal. Nothing to do with step aerobics. Possibly to do with the flat, shiggyless, grassless run ahead of us, but I doubt it. (I hear some of you like it like that! Prefer it dirty and wet myself, but each to their own). Nonetheless the pack set off on time, and any latecomers, well they can fend for themselves - Not much danger in this terrain anyway.

Myself, Looberty and Chris Evans propped up the bar waiting for Loobs late arriving sweetheart to arrive. She must have got mislaid so late arriving bully stood in. The three of us made a dash to catch up with the pack who by now had a 15 minute head start. After many twists and turns we caught up with the hare and a few hangers on. Our dash quickly reduced to a walk amongst the brightly lit and highly decorated shopping streets. Okay it's a bit gay to comment on decorations etc, but this part of the West End had done a bloody good job in that department. Too many nice sights to mention so I'm just noting the very convincing Santa outside a posh looking hotel that made Pope look like Dan Aykroyd in 'trading places'.

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RUN 1159 - SCRIBE: Wacker - The only sensible person was Stay Over. He had naffed off to sunny Egypt cause he just knew what the weather would be like. Even a racy e-mail exchange with Anna (more on her later) could not entice him back to Blighty to honour his commitment to Hare from Gloucester Road (me thinks there may be a down down in shame in the offing here).

So not only was he fat and round, he was the GM and the extremely soggy and miserable Hare as well. So we were called to order by Pope much later than the alleged 19.10 start (never would have happened under the old committee). No visitors or virgins so clearly anyone with sense would have avoided this run as well. Pope gave some really whingey cop-out about the snobby natives being unfriendly to his flour laying (translated means the trail is crap and I hardly used any flour).

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RUN 1158 - SCRIBE: Knickers - It was a cold clear night in late November when we gathered at The Lion pub in Hampton Wick for the West London run. We set off round the chill streets, soon to come to a difficult check by the railway station. Eventually Bully found the on and we got into Bushy Park. It was very dark, there was no moon, no street lights and only a few of us had torches. The stars and aeroplanes twinkled nicely, but that was no substitute for being able to see properly.

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RUN 1157 - SCRIBE: Pope - This is my third write up or should I say attempt at publishing a write up, our Web master having refused to Publish the last 2 that I submitted. What can I say about Harlesden, well it was probably best that it was dark. The trail was on the long side but this was off set by an enjoyable drinks stop with beer, cocktails, nibbles and Pizza ! I was also pleased to run passed my old family home which hasn't changed that much in 40 years.

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RUN 1156 - SCRIBE: Wacker - Back in the good old days in the 1980s when Pope was not fat, round (or bald) a Hammersmith run would always (a) be from a Fuller’s Pub and (b) would always start on time. But standards had dropped along with Pope’s waistline. But for once the signs looked good. Hare: Umlaut. Location: Hammersmith. And so it was to be. Umlaut = German Efficiency = A Fuller’s Pub.

More German Efficiency was to follow as the motley pack gathered at exactly 19.10 ready to run. Umlaut regaled us with tales of a run of many checks each with their own unique markings. As nobody had a clue what the senile old g*t was withering on about the GM set us off towards the exotic suburbs of Ravenscourt Park and Stamford Brook.

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RUN 1155 - SCRIBE: Wacker - Why Temple? A common question? Surely it is City Hash territory? But when you live in a Nanny state you do what you are told. So Jannie the Nanny dragged us to the outer limits of West London running turf ( surprisingly the Devereux has a “WC” post code). So on a WC of a night (wet’n’cold) would it turn out to be a toilet of a run?

The first signs were not good. A small pack but perfectly formed as it turned out. A Co-Hare in Rent Boy (oh –dear). A predictable start – let’s all run back towards the Embankment! But a new twist awaited as the Embankment was covered in leaves so you could not find any trail. This did not deter the pack and with the blind leading the blind (Marxist and Roadkill) we twisted back towards Blackfriars Station, up bridges, through subways, over the River, back over the River, past St Paul’s (where an image of a fat and round Pope was appropriately drawn on the ground). We then ran through the alleys and back passages of the City, past the LSE and ON ON into the pub.

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RUN 1152 - SCRIBE: Pope - A shortish run ( well I short cut) by Called Away. Generally kept the pack together except at the end. Main highlights were Last Tango saying "do you recognize this from last weeks run?" and a another diatribe about Leeds United.

There was one visitor Snoopy Snatch from Oregon and a virgin Anna. Both of whom enjoyed the evening. Pub was good and provided chips. Down downs were enjoyable but Mad Cow seemed to want to punish people for sins committed at the Barnes run the previous night. Could instead have given a Down Down to Roadkill for his constant drooling over the Netball girls. Social Drinker did deservedly get a down down for her impersonation of an England try.

RUN 1151 - SCRIBE: Marxist - Marxist arrived late, along with the usual suspects. Why does he drive, who knows? A fracas ensued when he tried to park. Various Parliamentary workers were in the road, and refused to move when he tried to park the tank.

So to the run, Action Man eventually turned up, but as Marxist was still looking for the trail it was a question of the blind leading the blind.

We caught the pack up by Horseguards Parade after a couple of checks, where there was a loop. The route headed round back streets skirting Parliament Square to Hungerford Bridge, where the foolish and fit ran across and back again.

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RUN 1150 - SCRIBE: JWax - I’ve been bribed with half pint of bitter to be a SCRIBE for this run. I would much more prefer a pint of Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, but I feel I have an obligation to contribute – after all I was supposed to be a hare. Instead, Pope laid the trail but was too exhausted to run it, so Cystpit was given a map to lead, Bully was given flour to trail and off we went into the darkness. Cystpist could never figure out where we were on the map and asked me for help on several occasions. I knew perfectly well where we were, being a native of Hanwell so to speak, but I forgot my glasses so couldn’t show him on the map. Anyway, we completed the run somehow and had only two twisted ankles – one from Los Angeles, California, who slipped on a dog shit along the river Brent, or was it Grand Union Canal, and another from a former resident of Hanwell who was so engrossed in trying to remember his childhood rambles that he tripped over his own feet while walking. Unfortunately I don’t remember the names of the victims due to my progressing dementia. [I think you mean "Upchuck No F**k" and "Hatman" in that order. Ed.]

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RUN 1149 - SCRIBE: Pickled Fart - Despite Bulldozer risking the wrath of the absent GM, Pope, by defying his Mussolini-esque directives and delaying the start of the run until a good twenty five minute past seven o'clock, the pack size was still struggling into the double figures as it set out. But what it lacked in size it made up for in enthusiasm, and the pace was brisk as we set off through the streets and alleys of Norbiton and North Kingston, checks were imaginatively placed, but quickly broken by this energetic pack. After mile or so of the trail took us into the stygian blackness of the woods of Ham Common before we emerged into Richmond Park, gloriously bathed in light from the full moon.The pack were teased with a possible exit through Ladder Style, but the trail doubled back to meet an On Inn just beyond Kingston Gate. Back at the pub the diminutive pack was swollen slightly by a few late comers who had loyally followed this excellent trail, as wells as the usual Arguidos (Rent Boy, Periodical, Sucker etc), who had not, but instead opted for a pub crawl, taking in the Park Tavern and Wych Elm. In the circle, conducted by Bulldozer, just about everyone got a down down for something or other, due to an excess of freezing cold fizzy lager, generously bought from a local off licence by the bar staff, because they could not give away company beer.

RUN 1148 - SCRIBE: Roadkill - There are some hashers whose experience, wisdom and common sense you instinctively know will produce a good run. Indeed, it has been known for some old hands to lay a workable trail without any preparation.

Unfortunately Unacceptable is not one of those. In fact judging from last night it is hard to see what he has learnt about haring from his undoubted many years hashing.

Here’s an idea! Let’s buck convention and run pavement in the light and the heath in the dark! Wonder why no-one else has ever thought of that…It was not so much a run as a collection of standing around checks – but my, they were well crafted circles. By the end of the night they were geometrically perfect; well anyone’s would be after drawing twenty odd in one run. Completely unacceptable.

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RUN 1147 - SCRIBE: Stayover - "Nettles nettles nettles ouch iyah ouch f*&^%*FALSE TRAIL ouch iyah ouch nettles nettles nettles BACK ON TRAIL road road nettles nettles nettles ouch HE WOULDNT WOULD HE? FALSE TRAIL! nettles nettles nettles road road nettles nettles nettles NOT AGAIN? FALSE TRAIL nettles nettles hmrph hrmph river river more nettles IS THAT KC UP AHEAD? HOW DID HE GET HERE? GOLF COURSE nettles nettles pub beer".  (typical legal eagle - a morbid fear of the honest comma. Ed.)

RUN 1146 - SCRIBE: Pope - Staines. I didn't remember ever having run from Staines before, but on leaving the station I suddenly remembered a very long run and the fact it was here I first met Anal Condom.

The pub has had a make over from last we ran from there, and installed Plasma screens and a loud PA system, which is probably why we spent most on the night in the beer garden.

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RUN 1119 - SCRIBE Cyst Pit/Pope - "Spent close to £90 on just the drink stop. Can't remember a thing after that. However Pope assssurrres me it was a great night with the following unbiased microTrash. (Pope says) " This run was probably the best West London run ever, had more down downs, more glamour, loads of food, best RAs etc!"

b.t.w If anyone is near Reading this week could they please pick up Tango who has shipwrecked. Okay Tango - that's my last piss take - honest! ... what you organising next ;^)

RUN 1116 - SCRIBE Cyst Pit - Hare Doner Kebab used his ace card to ensure our resurrected RA (Snickers) laid a blanket of snow on Hampstead Heath. No coincidence as run 1116 was to be from Hampstead (read the bloody email Half Cock!!). Pink flour guided us, surprisingly well, around 3.5 Christmas card miles. Sounds short but with the snow waist high, well for one of us, and the occasional snowball fight (literally on one occasion) we got round in the usual time. Bloody marvelous run if you ask me - of course it might have just been cold and slippery.

RUN 1113 - SCRIBE Blowjob/Cyst Pit - Well I wasn't there so I couldn't comment, but that didn't seem to stop Blowjob! And I quote - "Unacceptable as hare? Bet it was a crap run! Witness the January 1 debacle from Trafalgar square. Even the pub was a fu*k up. Mind you the last Zurich hash was a fu*k up too! In 12 years of hashing all over I have never encountered a trail where there was too much flour! Bread was scarce here in early January... Lots of love -:) Your roaming hash critic Blowjob." Well I never!

RUN 1111 - SCRIBE Cyst Pit - Dear Santa, thank you for the bouncy russian bird "under the table" ...(to appreciate, you really had to be there)...

RUN 1100 - SCRIBE Cyst Pit - was a lot like the film 'from dusk till dawn'. Things start out fairly normal then from nowhere everyone goes mental. That is pretty much what happened on Thursday if you missed it. If Blunder ever offers to 'host cocktails' at his place again take my word of warning... watch from dusk till dawn first! Seriously!!

RUN 1098 - SCRIBE: Cyst Pit - I'm not one for accuracy or detail, but I did notice it took over one and a half hours to complete butt plugs trail. What is the matter with that boy? Is he training for some activity? And those perfect jelly molded 'plops' of flour?? It all smells of falling down if you ask me. Speaking of the quiet ones I've been misled for quite a while into thinking Looberty plays little or no roll at WLH3... Until his absence this Thursday. I didn't imagine Bully could get any louder. By the powers of deduction Loobs is absorbing it like a modern day superman, silently protecting the rest of us. That lad's not pissed! He's punch drunk!

b.t.w. if, next week, you happen to see me doubled over in pain it means my gamble didn't pay off and Bully found this weeks microTrash. If it's Loobs that's doubled over, Bully's got kryptonite. If Bully's doubled over don't eat the hash food.

RUN 1095 - SCRIBE: Cyst Pit - Apart from the questionable checking; dubious calling; and some rather suspicious story telling by the RA's, Trolley Dolly managed to save the day by convincing the (Youngs) pub we were worthy of hash food. Any talk of calamari is just a fishy rumor ... sorry about that last one :^)

RUN 1093 - SCRIBE: Cyst Pit - When I joined this bunch of half-wits it was commonly known the hash length was 4 to 5 miles. The 4th mile, you will agree is the one where you think, "bloody marvelous - we're either nearly there or it's only one more mile to go." ...By the 6th mile (run 1093) there were worried faces, plenty of sweat and maybe some sobbing, but no pub. Well that's not quite true - in the last mile we crawled past some very enticing pubs, but none of them the ON INN. Fag Ends twisted and punishing trail got us back in just under 7 miles so I'm lead to believe. Moral of this tale? Never judge a hare by it's cover!

RUN 1092 - SCRIBE: Naughty Nympho - Well what can I say about Wouldn't chews run? Those hashers who weren't too knackered after the hike from the tube to the pub followed a lovely scenic trail which lead us through Battersea park. There was a funny thing at the end which the hare called a "false false trail backwards sneaky check" or something. Anyhow it confused some hashers (not difficult)... Overall a good run and nice pub!

RUN 1090 - SCRIBE: Cyst Pit - Who knew Lofty was such a ball breaker! Three false trails, that deceptive back check (on the canal) and I'm sure an incline all the way. Who knew there would be wine down downs!! And who knew Pope had a knowledge of our canal system that borders on the insane. The only thing of no surprise is our birthday girl, Jilted Jugs' hangover this morning.

RUN 1089 - SCRIBE: Cyst Pit - Great run! Great BBQ!! Great Beer!!! At GREAT prices!!!! Great job Faggie.

RUN 1088 - SCRIBE: Cyst Pit - You only had to look out a window some time after 5pm to feel Knickers heart sink. The rains held off for most of this week, only to downpour on her freshly laid trail. My heart bled. No need to shed another tear. At the pub it was like school again. All the boys lined up to help Knickers. I think there was even jostling. For those of us lower down the pecking order there was still a silver lining: the rain held off on the actual run; the running was cool; and a drink stop was provided (after negotiating the death slide) Question: How does Bhopal get indoors without breaking a leg after a few beers?

RUN 1087 - SCRIBE: Cyst Pit - was a successful one after a reluctant start. Well it was hot. From the start the hare was nowhere in sight, and the pub beckoned - you could just hear it. Such distractions were forgotten once the trail went into Richmond park. The back end of the pack lost themselves in conversation and the surroundings. Even the latecomers showed a 'not a care in the world' attitude. All in all a very good evening. And if your wondering, yes Eric was the hare. I know! Go figure!!