Oakville Hash House Harriers

Victoria’s Dirty Secret Hash - May 22, 2000
Well it’s the Queen’s Birthday and we’re having a walkabout at Cueball’s Castle. And what a motley crüe of subjects we have here, including the long lost Wee Willy, his on-again mistress Pussywillow, or was that Paranoia - someone keeps changing her name all the time - the virginal Sister Anna and Clot roaring in on his bike bloody showoff. And here’s that troublemaker Hyena again but this time with his Hyenette and keep your hash announcements away from my car thank you very much. So off with yer heads or yer hash, whatever the whimsy, but what plebeian stroll we have here, there is hardly a lackey working up a lather, except for the perennial front running bastard Skewbic and a few other showoffs - the rest of the riffraff having a Sunday stroll. Well, the weather was loverly, and the gardens divine, so who says you gotta run your guts out on my birthday, especially not the Cue, who since becoming a father twice has turned from stud to dud and lost his intestinal fortitude to give it his all twice a day. Thank ye heavens for that, or we would be heaving our royal rear-ends up some godforsaken cliff. Well after an hour of diddling around the environs, we get onto the majestic part, i.e. trying out Cueball’s corkscrew, the likes of which not many have seen, and going on to the public beheadings. And besides the usual pouring of wrath on those who haven’t done it for a long time, or who are virgins at the game, we have Birdie getting a downdown for wearing new-looking shoes which she claims to have possessed for two years running, a pox on that, and Cueball being chastised for thoroughly boring the plebs plus bearing new nikies, his footwear being filled with froth freshly filtered through the GM’s sock. Well enough of that, let us eat cake, the pork and multiple rhubarb pies, the hot-hot pasta from Deephuk’s mama, and all the rest that is full of fat and bad. We have Lady Lovebite and His Lordship of the Garterbelt Glowworm strolling in and Hyena strolling out, thus keeping a steady flow of yankers to communicate with and we’re on to such platonic subjects as the nature of love and what did the nudists wear in Nanterre, leading to a naming of "Short" (Rob) & "And Curly" (Andrew), the latter sporting a wild green soccer suit, and the wish that his football friends won’t find out his new moniker, nor the brutish bacchanalia his depraved Dad drags him to. These poor children will surely be maimed for life, or else alcoholics like the rest of us.

Well, after a stroll around the grounds and getting a few herbal cuttings from Hardcore which so far haven’t survived, we are once again the last to leave, so come on Phart enough is enough, the food and booze gone, so let’s go home and embark on a royal romp.

On-On!!

Flashback to the Last OHHH Hashes of the 20th Century: