-Jo Phillips, Tue 9 April @ 12.37, HWH3 WhatsApp group
We'd previously encountered 'The Beechdean Massiv' (as they prefer to be known these days - it's an inner valley gang thing) on last year's Murder Mystery Run, when Mr Chips - in jest, and in character - took a shotgun to one of their own. It turns out, they hadn't forgotten...
Let's start with the preamble - a short, and a couple of long:short splits giving the option of a medium or a long. It being half-term, there were a fair few children in our midst. To be fair, no more than normal, and at least these children were properly behaved during the hare's briefing. We were joking about ninja cows hiding up trees as we trotted off down Bryant's Bottom Road...how little did we know...
It wasn't until we crossed down into North Dean and set off across the fields that it everything kicked off. As we entered, a loud bellow sounded out from the sheds which Jo (Kilimanjar-Jo?!) reckoned must have come from something larger than an elephant. Whilst I privately reserved my doubts, I let this one pass as Jo had just returned from Africa, so should probably know what she was talking about.
She didn't. It was a lot of cows. And they were all waiting for us by the one and only gate through into the far field.
The cows were like, " What are you doing in our field?", and I was like, "We've got no beef with you", and they were like, "That's really not funny", and I was like, "Sorry, but it's a public footpath so we're really allowed to be here...and plus, the Laminator said so." And they were like, "Who's this Laminator?", and I was, well "Ya know...ermm...I think he's over there, hiding by the bushes", and they were like, "Send Rupert over to 'ave a word with him", and I was like "Rupert?! That's not exactly a scary name for a cow, is it?" and they were like, "Who said anything about a cow, he's a bull, and he's doesn't give a sh*t!".
At this point, one of the cows at the back of the herd piped up: "Excuse me? I think Rupert does give a sh*t - that's one of his there, right there, steaming away in the middle of the footpath", and the other cows were like, "Yeah, see what we mean - that's what Rupert thinks of your footpath! Now where's this Laminator?", and I sort of mumbled, "That's him running away, across that field", and the cows sort of mooed around a bit and had a little huddle and a stamp or two and turned back to me and were like, "We can't be @rsed to run around too much, we're prize-winning ice-cream cows...we don't want our milk getting too frothy." and I was like, "Would that make you cow-puccinos?" and they were like, "We said 'Stop' - that's really not funny at all."
Around this point, Jo started screaming, and without Doormat, the CPS (Cow Protection Squad) was light on numbers so Jo's right flank was left unguarded. The cows were like, "Send Roger over to have a word with that one...she's doing my head in". "Yeah, Roger'll sort 'er out - he's got the loudest moo in town...or at least in this part of the valley... 'cos we're not in a town".
Roger duly came over, faffed around a bit, had a moo or two, did a little pirouette, and then slunk off to a nearby tree and had a massive sh*t. Job done, as far as Roger was concerned.
Meanwhile, Hels Belles stood in the middle of the field with Poppy and barked at the cows. Hels that is, Poppy was pretty quiet. The cows were like: "What's that mad bint doing talking Spaniel over there?" "Dunno...but I'm not going over there to find out - she sounds proper fierce." "Send Rupert or Roger over..." "Sorry, no can do - Rupert is trying to mount Constance, and Roger is still having a massive sh*t over by the tree...he'll be useless for the next 30 mins...it rather takes it out of him these days..."
Fat Boy started to ponder about Rupert's sexual orientation: "I wonder - is that a gender neutral cow?". Gritty-arsed fox: "Actually, I think it's a bull". Mr Eager: "No Nickey, it's only a boy cow!". Unfortunately, our resident vet, Nice Butt, had gone on ahead with his daughter MiaKat, so we ended up none the wiser. No, hang on - that's a lie - Roger had huge dangling testicles (he'll thank me for putting that down in print!) so he was most definitely a bull. End of.
The cows were now starting to get a bit aggy. By now, I was like: "Look we don't want any trouble, we're leaving your field OK? We're just going to turn our lights off and walk slowly around the edge, pretending to be going nowhere in particular, then we're going to suddenly reach the far gate, and make a run for it. Do you have a problem with that?" And the cows were like, "Well yes we do...but on 2nd thoughts...actually, no, we don't. We can't be bothered to run after you, so we'll just stay here making loud mooing sounds and farting to our heart's content. Have a good run now!"
After that little burst of adrenalin, the rest of the run passed without incident: Fat Boy and I discussed airplane near-misses we'd been involved in (he won, thanks to the guy next to him breaking the overhead locker with his forehead during severe turbulence and being hospitalised upon landing), Hels Belles unveiled her 'Magic Eye' again (she can even lay a flour trail with it now!) and Seagull lamented upon the trauma of being a Brighton fan...poor soul, he's off to do a 100km ultra run on 11th May to celebrate the end of the season...hmmm...11th May...I'm sure that was a significant date for some reason???
After ascending Spring Coppice Lane, we crashed across a few fields, then came down the road, and with shouts of 'Remember Cakegate' (Run #1470, The Harrow, when PC Berry locked all her hash cakes...I mean cakes for the hash!...in her car and forgot the keys) we then took up our customary position in the rear function room at The Gate.
I think the last time we ran from The Gate, we had a whole BBC1 film crew and Mike Bushell in tow. However, unless he was hiding amongst The Beechdean Massiv, Mike was nowhere to be seen this time round, so we had to content ourselves with our own Roger and his bid for public notoriety with the long-awaited (did I say long?...apologies to any shorts offended...) Toscas. I think Libby won for - help me out here - something to do with chocolate? No, not an opening plot line to 50 Shades of Grey, just one of those things that happens in RogerWorld...move along now.
11th May - ah yes, I knew why that date was important...it's the Quiz n Chips Night!
Details are on the hash website, on facebook, on the Hash WhatsApp Group, and on www.Wrightberry.co.uk.
Suffice to say, teams of up to 8 (more for convenience owing to table sizes - if you want 10, that's fine, just sit on laps..if you want 12, you'd better get extra cosy!) and I'll be taking payment as of now, either by cash or bank transfer, £15 p/person: [M N Wright, 40 47 87, 65007976]
How do cows become invisible? Camooflage
Why do cows wear bells? Because their horns don't work
Why was the cow afraid? He was a cow-herd
Why do cows have hooves instead of feet? Because they lactose
Why did the cow smell? Because it received a pat on the back
What do cows eat for breakfast? Moosli
What did the mother cow say to the baby cow? It's pasture bed time
What do you call cows with a sense of humour? Laughing stock
What do you a call an idiot cow? A mis-steak
What do you call a cow caught in an earthquake? A milkshake
What time is it when a cow sits on your fence? Time to get a new fence!
What happens when a cow jumps over your fence? Udder distruction
What's the hardest part about making skimmed milk? Throwing the cow across the lake
Two cows are out grazing in a field. One cow says to the other, "Aren't you worried about this Mad Cow disease that's been going around?" The other cow replies," Why would I be worried about Mad Cow disease? I'm a rabbit."
Thanks to Hels & Aaron for a super run, spectacular chips, and pizza to boot - eagerly awaiting the next Hashalator update...we could be returning to The Gate before too long?!