Hash Trash: The Wraysbury Wobble

The pack gathered at the National Trust Car Park on Windsor Road, blissfully unaware of the carnage ahead.  Tiller and Petal, our hares for the day, stood there looking innocent — which should have been everyone’s first warning.  No real guidance. No mercy.  Just a vague wave in a direction that could generously be described as “that away.”

Only after the On-Inn did Uncle Gerry hand out a map to Pole F***ker, our scribe for the day, presumably so the pack could admire the full scale of the f***ery they’d just endured.  It looked like someone had dropped a spider dipped in paint onto a page and called it “art.”

Given Uncle Gerry’s usually late assignment of scribe responsibilities to someone that did not even do the run what follows is a work of fiction (some activities could however be true).

Check #1 — Bolshie’s Premature Ejaculation of Confidence

Bolshie spotted a faint smudge of flour and launched himself forward like a man who’d mistaken enthusiasm for competence.  It was wrong.  Spectacularly wrong.  Tiller and Petal watched him disappear with the smug satisfaction of hares who knew they’d broken someone before the first kilometre.

Check #2 — Atalanta’s Scenic Cock‑Up

Atalanta somehow became front‑runner near Ankerwyke, mostly because everyone else was still laughing at Bolshie’s detour.  She marched confidently into a beautiful dead end, insisting it “felt right.”  It didn’t.  It was about as right as socks with sandals.

Check #3 — Ms Bean’s Bird‑Shit Enlightenment

At Cooper’s Hill Coppice, Ms Bean paused to inspect a white blob on a tree.  After deep contemplation, she announced it was flour. It was bird shit.  The pack thanked her anyway, because at this point standards were low and hope was dead.

Check #4 — RHUM’s Existential Breakdown

RHUM followed a false trail into Englefield Park, then declared the experience “a metaphor for life.”  The metaphor was unclear, but the suffering was real.  Tiller and Petal were delighted — nothing warms a hare’s heart like watching a hasher question their entire existence.

Check #5 — Petal’s Purple Path of Pain

The purple (on the map) section after the Magna Carter Memorial caused widespread panic.  Half the pack were swearing loudly and the other half were wandering in circles but technically still moving forwards looking for flour.  

Check #6 — Missing in Action Does Her Thing

At the Wraysbury Loop of Doom, Missing in Action vanished.  Completely.  One moment she was there, the next she was gone, presumably following a trail laid by ghosts or hallucinating flour.  She reappeared 20 minutes later from a direction no human had run, claiming she’d “found trail spiritually.”  No one argued — they were too tired.

Check #7 — Spud the Dog Saves the Entire Hash

The final check before the river was solved by Spud, who barked at the correct trail with the confidence of a creature who actually uses its senses.  The pack followed him gratefully, deciding he was the only competent bastard present.  Tiller and Petal briefly considered making him co‑hare next week.

The Thames: Blessed, Flat, and Finally Not Trying to Kill Us

The last stretch along the Thames was mercifully check‑free — a rare act of kindness from Tiller and Petal, possibly because they’d already broken everyone. Hashers admired the river, enjoyed the flat path, and pretended they hadn’t spent the previous hour lost in shrubbery, swearing, and questioning their life choices.

Big Foot tried to race Spud again.  Spud won again.  Atalanta claimed she’d “always known the way.”  No one believed her.  Ms Bean avoided trees. RHUM muttered something philosophical no one listened to.

Circle Highlights

Machinist was the acting RA for the day.

• Tiller & Petal: Blamed for everything. Praised for nothing.
• Ex GM of KL Harriette’s was welcomed as a returnee.
• Lazy drivers rewarded for moving their cars to be closer to the circle.
• Too Posh got the largest ovation from the circle for her exceptionally wise question “is that an airport?” whilst looking at planes landing/taking off every minute into Heathrow.
• Spud: Awarded with doggie treats by Atalanta for being the only creature with functioning navigation skills.

The circle was advised of the recent passing of Mountain Rescue one of Hash’s greatest ambassadors.  He started hashing in 1965 with his last hash being with Deepcut  in July 2026.

Beer was drunk.

Insults were exchanged.

The hares were accused of crimes against humanity.

A perfect hash.

  On On,
  Pole F***cker