| Subject: Nice to see you..........nice! |
Author:
Dave P.
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Date Posted: 15:27:45 04/25/05 Mon
Nice to back on the board! Tried for ages last night, three different browsers and, still, couldn't get hold of the Voyforums server. Wes tells me he had no problems and it was just me (again!). Must try harder. Anyway, seems I didn't miss much, as no one said anything.
Bloke comes home from the pub, the worse for the drink and, trying not to disturb the Mrs, creeps into bed. Just settled when he lets out a right cracker of a fart. "What was that?" his Mrs mumbled, "Nothing love! playing football and just scored a goal" he said, "that's one - nil." "Dirty bugger" she thinks and lets go a ripper in reply. "What was that?" he cries. "Nothing love" she said, "playing football and scored a goal. That's one all!" "Right" he thinks, "I'll bloody show her!" Ten minutes of brewing and festering later he lets go with a real belly buster but, unfortunately, follows through and shats himself. "What the F**K was that?" yells his wife, grabbing for her nose at the resulting, sudden stink. "Half time" says her old man, "change sides!"
Now that that's lowered the tone to my standards, let's get on with the Bramcote Tales. I think I may have told this story before? If I have, I apologise but I think it's worth repeating, as an illustration of the utter depravity of young lads and a further example of the strength of bullying that, in those days, was nothing but "character building" or "sorting the wheat from the chaff!" We had a young lad join our troop who was the biggest fifteen year old I have ever come across in my life. 6' 6" and nearly 17st. He was so big that every uniform that was issued to him, had to be specially tailored. He had hand made boats (sic), size 15 or 16 and his bed was a civvy, 'Slumberland' (fully sprung). His hands where so big, he could hold a basket ball in one hand and, to put it bluntly, he terrified me. As a room orderly, it was my duty to inspect the work kit for the next day. I never said anything to this lad for fear he would pound me into the ground with one swift blow. One night, the Permanent Staff Sgt, realising what the score was, decided to watch over my inspection. I, of course, knew what was going down and put on a suitable performance but dreading the coming confrontation with the 'giant'. When I got to him my heart sank at the state of his minging kit. "Oh well here goes" I thought, and gave him the bollocking he so deserved and should have had before. To my shock and amazement, he burst into tears and cried like a baby. From that moment on, the poor sods life was an absolute misery. He was bullied by everybody in the troop, yes me too. Every night he was dumped out of his civvy bed and made to sleep in an ordinary army cot (which his legs over hung by at least two feet) and he was at the beck and call of everybody from reveille to lights out and beyond! He only lasted a few short weeks after that night and was 'discharged as unsuitable'. How he had made it through the hell of Recruits Troop totally baffled us all and I don't know what became of him. I hope he has had a nice life but a soldier he would never have made! More soon....................................
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