Maybe it’s because I am Dutch, but Dingo’s concept of romance is clearly different from mine. Fat Ba*tard as the Ultimate Romantic? We will forgive her, though, as she had ordered a silvery moon to bathe the Park in lovely light.
A strong team of athletic whares, dressed as Tudor wenches (except Love Deuce, who forgot!), chased us around in the moonlight, with the hot breath of the park wardens in our necks. The run was cleverly designed, with a bit of a figure-of-eight idea. It worked out even better than planned, as the wenches managed to lose not only Eric, but also Mad Cow, Pope and Charlatan… We had entered the park through Bog Gate (very apt), and were veering towards Ham, under the enthusiastic guidance of Dingo. But those unfortunate four, actually together with quite a few other hashers, bumped into the wardens, who told them to get out through Richmond Gate or get culled.
Whilst the renegades were drowning their sorrows in the Roebuck, (see attached) Those of us on the not-so-straight and narrow curved back towards Richmond, and got a treat from FB: Naked Ladies, chicken nuggets and ½-sausages. Boy Blunder, always happy to please, played the court photographer.
Back to the downs-downs, which were many (West London has long since lost its mean reputation), and funny. I have to be selective, but I definitely need to mention For*skin. He saved us all from salmonella poisoning by cooking the chicken nuggets that Roll Back had picked up from the supermarket, in the innocent belief that they were ready to serve. Bravo, and thank you Sir! Nut Su*ker was accused of signing up for a Madrid Hash event in the name of Mutt Su*ker. It defies the imagination, but Butt Plug’s telling of the tale was pretty suggestive. Do we need to mention that Nut Su*ker did/did not forget her ticket for the QPR match, and that FB dropped the Naked Ladies on a zebra crossing? I take it you get the gist.
Honourable mentions go to Thunderthighs, who loves an opportunity to show off her silky red dress, and Skaraoke, who does, too. Except his dress was called a Spanish spy outfit. I need to read up on my Hilary Mantel to understand it all, but as I said before, I am Dutch.
On On, Martian Matron