29th August St James Park – The Inaugural ‘West London Suffragettes’ Run

Every principle of liberty enunciated in any civilized country on earth, with very few exceptions, was intended entirely for men, and when women tried to force the putting into practice of these principles, for women, then they discovered they had come into a very, very unpleasant situation indeed.Emmeline Pankhurst
If we are to be totally honest with ourselves, it has to be admitted the Hash has not always been at the forefront in the battle against sexism and a run to celebrate the emancipation of women is an appropriate theme for Dingo’s first trail as GM. It goes some way to redress the balance and, hopefully, may also go some way towards remolding the attitude of certain male hashers on these issues to something that is more appropriate for the twenty first century. Let us hope that this run marks an end to sexism on the West London and the beginning of an enlightened new era.

The run was hosted from the Adam and Eve (Google Genesis 3 16 if you not see the irony in this) and on arrival at this pub I was greeted by the sight of numerous male hashers in bras and various other items of female attire and a number of harriettes bearing whips and various other instruments of corporal punishment. What this all had to do with the suffragette movement I am not too sure, perhaps our new GM had got the wrong end of the stick and got it into her pretty little blonde head that its leader had actually been called Emmeline Spankhurst. Most the whips and things were fun imitations, but the one Man Magnet was carrying was a real leather bull whip, straight out of Indiana Jones. It does make you wonder what she gets up to in her private life that she should even possess such a thing. Later in the evening I had an opportunity to test it with a dexterous crack across Dingo’s pert little Lycra clad bottom and the satisfying squeal of pain it evoked was testimony to it its authenticity!

The pack was cajoled out of the pub for the start of the run and the bra wearing hashers had their humiliation compounded with the addition of water filled balloons, a sort of poor man’s silicone implant, and we were promised no less than three drink stops. The trail weaved round St James Park and Buckingham palace to the bemusement of tourists and, as if we were not attracting enough attention as it were, we were soon accompanied by Boy Blunder wearing a long blonde wig and riding a bicycle behind which he towed a trailer bearing a PA system that blared out appalling pop music. This was later explained that this had been “girl power” music, though I am not sure what girl power is, perhaps it is a bit like horse power, but applied to washing machines and vacuum cleaners instead of cars and motor cycles. The other items on Blunder’s trailer were the materials for the drink stops, the first of which took place in St James Park. I do not know what the drink was, I have never seen or tasted anything like it before and hope never to do so again, it was an unnatural looking purple colour and tasted of pure saccharin, but we were assured that it contained alcohol so drunk it anyway. The second drink stop was even more sweet and sickly than the first; Love Deuce told me that these were the sort of drink that Harriettes liked, I was tempted to point out that we men do not share their metabolic need for sugar rushes to avert a hypoglycemic strop every five minutes but experience has taught me that logic and facts are both redundant in any discussion with the ladies so I kept a diplomatic silence and merely gave an understanding nod. For the final drink stop we ran across the front of the House of Commons, still a hive of activity and television crews for the historic debate on military intervention in Syria, which culminated in David Cameron becoming the first Prime Minister since Lord North to lose a vote on matter of war, to end up before the statue of Emmeline Pankhurst herself for the final drink stop in Victoria Tower Gardens behind the houses of Parliament. This drink stop was accompanied by chocolate brownies made by Dingo’s own fair hand which we tried to share with a charming young Community Support Officer stationed at the adjacent exit to the Common’s car park but she declined with that classic phrase “not when I am on duty”.

Back at the pub, as they prepared for the circle, I noticed a large plastic box filled with ice. Ha! I thought, this is what happens when you let the girlies run things, drinks with ice in them for down downs. They will be having little umbrellas in them next! Anyway, you can imagine my consternation when I ended up sitting in this box full of ice, clad in a mankini, for the most of the duration of the circle! My crime? Apparently I had, allegedly, commented once or twice, in passing, and by way of constructive criticism, on what a complete dog’s breakfast the web site had become since my self-defenestration from the committee. I have noticed in the past that the fairer sex do not always take kindly to criticism, however well intentioned, for example I have always believed that you should criticize women’s’ driving when appropriate, otherwise they will never improve, but it is surprising how ungrateful they can be in return.

The balloon implants soon become water bombs as the circle progressed and became more boisterous with the pub remaining surprisingly tolerant of our antics, down downs were awarded to various miscreants visitors and a vir*in, who when asked how she had enjoyed her first hash, replied that she had found it “all a bit weird”. What could she mean?

Things did not calm  down much after the circle was concluded, Tango appeared in dominatrix costume  wielding a spanking paddle; the combination of whips and alcohol was bound to  get some Hashers over excited, one of whom slapped On All Four’s bottom once too  often and she responded by giving him a swinging smack across the face that sent  him spinning like a top across the pub, but I will not embarrass the Hasher  further by naming him. All right, I will then, it was Sky Lark (not Eric for a  change).

In all one of the livelier Thursday evenings, so, now that we have expunged all trace of sexism from WLH3 what next? How about a wet T shirt run before the weather gets too cold?

On On, PF


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