In addition to the eleven raving loonies listed, Cabbage Knievel and Cabbage Flaps (of Scarborough H4) also graced this r*n with their presence.

7.10 pm, Kendal, a wet September evening, and we were all in imminent danger of drowning. So great was Baldbrick's grief at the absence of his beloved that his tears threatened to inundate the lot of us. Every time a Ford Fiesta drove in our direction, he would dash into the road like a crazed loon, waving his arms wildly and exclaiming "Oh, thankyou Lord! Heavens be praised!", so that the occupants of said vehicles (and everyone else) thought he was completely barmy. Nothing new there then.

Eventually, lost sheep Upperskirt rejoined the flock and off we swam. All my amphibious friends were there: Forever Raining, Puddles, Cum Splash Splash, Moaticia et al. Almost from the outset, my vision was reduced to zero by the total lack of windscreen wipers on my specs and the fading batteries of my lamp. I was vaguely aware that the tarmac surface had given way to something softer. "Aha!", I thought, "we must be r*nning on carpet!". Soon, however, the ominous squelching sensation beneath my feet made me realise the grim reality of our situation: we must be r*nning on a carpet which had been steam-cleaned and which hadn't dried out properly!

On we waded, with only some piles of white powder left by some kindly soul to give shape and form to our wanderings. Our relief at realising that Upperskirt was still with us rapidly turned to horror as it dawned on us that, if we were with her, then we must all be lost!

In one field, we were about to explore the bottom corner in search of a gate, when suddenly we heard two voices behind call out "Nay, Nay!", so we headed right instead. Eventually we discovered that what we had actually heard was "Neigh, Neigh!"; it was only two horses trying to deceive us with some dastardly "foal play"!

Later, we stumbled blindly around what we had been told was a golf course; personally, I didn't believe a word of it as I didn't see one single person playing golf.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (come to think of it, it WAS an eternity), we made it to the on inn. Due to the copious amounts of aqueous precipitation, and also because it was raining, we decided to pass on the circle; this, coupled with the fact that there were no guest r*nners from TNT, meant that No More Cum was unable to introduce any more AC/DC songs into the hash repertoire. For this, we are truly grateful.

Unfortunately, a bit of bother when the bar staff suspected that Cum Yak Yak wasn't quite as antiquated as the rest of us! Cheap food and booze was the order of the day for the rest of us, though, and much thanks to hare Feels On Wheels for an entertaining evening in atrocious conditions. Not all that keen on the blue chalk, though.