Come and celebrate another wonderful year of hashing with SH4; the best hash IN THE WORLD, give ourselves a pat on the back for not getting lost/washed away/physically or psychologically scarred despite the best efforts of the all the hares. Run, eat, drink, and raise a glass to the committee; thank them for their sterling efforts and elect, or re-elect officers to their various posts. Then go home, and try to get a life… 🙂
The words: Squash Balls started with a lament about the youth of today not getting the significance of Halloween, and how we should all be thankful for “Jesus slaying that pumpkin!” This lead to talk of not for profit atheist organizations, and the over commercialization by Americans of the Scottish tradition of Halloween.
Birthday wishes were given to Piddler and Nice Buns, despite Nice Buns trying to hide the occurrence! On the hash Whisper and Re-entry did the long properly, and ignored the crosses in the church Graveyard, leading to many puns on Squash balls part. Flage-No-Lay had a spiritual moment on the hash and spent some time seeking out bright lights, only to be disappointed by the realisation that the bright lights were in fact hashers and not spiritual enlightenment. Squash balls spun a long tale starting in wreckers and ending with “lichtenstein saves nine”, I still don’t get it?
Down Downs were given to filth and Olive for laying the hash, Flage for acting like a moth, Bellend for having once had a phone contract in the name of Mr A God, Piddler and Nice Buns for their birthdays. On on to Gooly and Ging Gans Bonfire night Hash at the Journeys End in Kingsbridge…
Now for a bit of fun, have you ever wondered what would happen if the worlds of HS4 collided with Harry Potter? Well, if you’re sure — better be HS4!” Boaty Mc Boat Face heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the HS4 table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Plympton, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Sushi the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” Boaty Mc Boat Face sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he’d seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Boaty Mc Boat Face the sudden, horrible feeling he’d just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water. He could see the High Table properly now.
At the end nearest him sat Bell End, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Boaty Mc Boat Face grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Gooly. Boaty Mc Boat Face recognized him at once from the card he’d gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Gooly’s silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Boaty Mc Boat Face spotted Professor Overshot, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. And now there were only three people left to be sorted. “Thomas, Dean,” a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Boaty Mc Boat Face at the HS4 table. “Turpin, Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron’s turn. He was pale green by now. Boaty Mc Boat Face crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, “HS4!” Boaty Mc Boat Face clapped loudly with the rest as Balls Deep collapsed into the chair next to him. “Well done, Balls Deep , excellent,” said Sushi Weasley Pompously across Boaty Mc Boat Face as “Zabini, Blaise,” was made a Plympton.
Professor Traffic Jam rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Boaty Mc Boat Face looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago. Albus Gooly had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. “Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! “Thank you!” He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Boaty Mc Boat Face didn’t know whether to laugh or not. “Is he — a bit mad?” he asked Sushi uncertainly. “Mad?” said Sushi airily. “He’s a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Boaty Mc Boat Face?” Boaty Mc Boat Face’s mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs. The Dursleys had never exactly starved Boaty Mc Boat Face, but he’d never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. U Bend had always taken anything that Boaty Mc Boat Face really wanted, even if It made him sick. Boaty Mc Boat Face piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious. “That does look good,” said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Boaty Mc Boat Face cut up his steak, “Can’t you –?” I haven’t eaten for nearly four hundred years,” said the ghost. “I don’t need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself? Sir Dimwit de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of HS4 Tower.” “I know who you are!” said Balls Deep suddenly. “My brothers told me about you — you’re Nearly Headless Dimwit!” “I would prefer you to call me Sir Dimwit de Mimsy –” the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Marty Finnigan interrupted. “Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?” Sir Dimwit looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn’t going at all the way he wanted. “Like this,” he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Dimwit flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, “So — new HS4s! I hope you’re going to help us win the house championship this year? HS4s have never gone so long without winning. Plymptons have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable — he’s the Plympton ghost.” Boaty Mc Boat Face looked over at the Plympton table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Arse So who, Boaty Mc Boat Face was pleased to see, didn’t look too pleased with the seating arrangements. “How did he get covered in blood?” asked Marty with great interest. “I’ve never asked,” said Nearly Headless Dimwit delicately. When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding — ” As Boaty Mc Boat Face helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families. “I’m half-and-half,” said Marty. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mom didn’t tell him she was a witch ’til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.” The others laughed