Auspiciously his royal highness Lord Squash Balls, RA and Mrs, enthralled us with his verbal prestidigitation. Mark Anthony, Churchill, Martin Luther none of these sprang to mind. Onward and upward the naming ceremony of our newest recruit, ice ice ice baby, hooray following much discussion of flavours
Virgin hash virgin territory virgin records and so on and only one bag of flour: an ecological triumph. Jerk did point out that it’s possible to purchase waterproof flour from Asda which he uses for home dentistry on occasion.
One Hasher, simpleton by nature, went to the wrong pub, no names mentioned ( DMW, not the first time I might add.)
How could you cast aspersions upon the fabled Arso, purveyor of jokes to the gentry. Incredulously with assurances that this was the whole truth I listened to the following story: Running late and Boaty were discussing the ins and outs of of toys of the naughty kind. After much comparison Boaty confessed that he had been elated by his recent purchase, £500 he said. My goodness, what do you get for that said running late. All the accessories, state of the art technology, a wall charger, and a battery,state of the art, that lasts four hours. Ye gods-what is it? It’s a Dyson V8. I put my pinnie on, start hoovering, and she’s on me like a cougar within five minutes.
At this point we were witness to a remarkably entertaining moment as his Royal squash tennis tried to pronounce the word For Norman ononon (phenomenon). I’m sure many have seen Nemo trying to say anemone: don’t hurt yourself sprung to mind. SCW short cutting walkers, Bold as brass and without contrition. Unbelievable.
Stupendously balls deep went forth, crying “I may be gone sometime” as he added an extra 30K to Longs By Also doing The a to b. And then he went to the wrong pub.
In an altercation with a bunch of pheasant plucker‘s whisperer took umbrage, layed down a barrage of covering fire and consequently bagged a brace of birds. Quickly, quickly he set a fire and roasted them, feasted and was still able to win the hash. Bravo. Baron von squash balls exclaimed almost aptly“this is an experience that hashers have had”.
200 hashes for Marty, and not a hair out of place.
John the meteorologist, subsequent to the fat prostitute joke, was named Meaty whore. Traditional and apposite.
On the subject of tardy reporting, Gaffer suggested that behaviourally one is guilty, but that it would not be correct to feel existentially challenged and therefore feel shame. I would’ve agreed if I’d known what he meant. Overshot offered to explain and I’m still waiting.
DMW |
