Visitors can check out the Forum FAQ by clicking this link. You have to register before you can post: click the REGISTER link above to proceed. To start viewing messages, select the forum that you want to visit from the selection below. View our Forum Privacy Policy.
Want to receive the latest contracting news and advice straight to your inbox? Sign up to the ContractorUK newsletter here. Every sign up will also be entered into a draw to WIN £100 Amazon vouchers!
"I can put any old tat in my sig, put quotes around it and attribute to someone of whom I've heard, to make it sound true."
- Voltaire/Benjamin Franklin/Anne Frank...
When Gibbon were a lad, nearly as big as his Dad, he thought he'd join the RAF.
Next thing I knows I'm in a barrack room with 19 other keen recruits. But two of them were ex-army and a bit older than us 16 yr olds so to us they were heroes. They treated us to one one of the finest fist fights I've ever seen when one of them sh*gged the others bird. At the end of the fight they decided she wasn't worth it and made friends. At inspection the next morning one of them was asked by the Sgt why his face looked like a dogs dinner, "Fell down the stairs Sergeant!" was his reply. "So why is your face also like a dogs dinner" the Sgt asked the other "Fell down the stairs trying to help my mate Sergeant!". "Good" replied the Sergeant "hate to think you were fighting over some slapper!".
Anyway these two ex-army guys were becoming more and more p*ssed off with one of our comrades who kept failing inspection for which the punishment was extra marching practice - for all of us!
One Saturday morning we had a full kit inspection. So everyone knuckled down and helped everone else with anything they needed. Some guys were better at shoes or ironing etc so the rest of us would do their barrack jobs and they would iron and polish for everyone etc, teamwork. Last thing friday night the two ex-army guys went round and checked everybodies wardrobe and kit etc. All ok, and they were looking forward to the free pass into town for Sat afternoon.
Next morning at the inspection the inspecting Sgt and Cpl opened the miscreants wardrobe and found his soiled underware from the previous day at the bottom. Inspect failed and 5 hours marching in freezing Jan rain ensued. To say we were f**ked off is a gross understatement. The two ex-army guys were out for retribution and they got it.
One of them pinned the tw*t to the bed whilst the other emptied his wardrobe. They then bundled him in it and got us to help 'roll' it round the florr for a bit. Then one of them shouted "I've had enough of this, lets chuck the f**ker out the window". They got us to help to left the wardrobe onto a..
bed! but as if it was balancing on a window ledge (we were on the third floor).
Well the miscreant was screaming for his life and promising to sort himself out etc. The ex-army guys played good cop bad cop for a while but the pitiful wailing evantually made them give in.
You would think the miscreant would have learnt, but no, he failed a subsequent inspection, this time he was put in a bath of p*ss and vim.
He left the next day.....
But I discovered nothing else but depraved, excessive superstition. Pliny the younger
Like that EO. Didn't know you did stories. Perhaps we should have a story thread in light relief. The limit on words is a problem though. Much longer than yours and they won't post.
Comment