• 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!

Compulsive liars

A chap used to wander around Gorseinon with a ghetto blaster on his shoulder, waffling on about his time in 'Nam.

:eyes

WHS. It was horrendous. Little oriental fellas in black pyjamas jumping out at you in the middle of the night. That's the last time I stay at the YMCA in Hanoi.
 
Given the amount of people who claim to be/have been/have a brother in the SAS, they must be the least elite special forces ever.

Edit: Or they're all talking out of their :moon:
 
Given the amount of people who claim to be/have been/have a brother in the SAS, they must be the least elite special forces ever.

Edit: Or they're all talking out of their :moon:

Just to clarify in case of misreading - I actually do have a brother who was never in the SAS and was just a humble Welsh Fusilier.
 
I don't know anyone who was in the SAS (unless they keep it secret) but I do know an ex-marine. Which is best? Is there some sort of ladder of elitism I can refer to?
 
I don't know anyone who was in the SAS (unless they keep it secret) but I do know an ex-marine. Which is best? Is there some sort of ladder of elitism I can refer to?

If there is a marine with you then they are the best if there is an SAS guys there then they are the best.

Technically SAS is considered to be 'higher' than the marines apart from the marine SBS units.
 
A good friend of mine 'reverse lies' at parties, by telling people he's a farm hand, or flat roofer, dustbin man. It's his way of dealing with people who seem to only want to know how far you are up the social ladder (and also allows him lots of time on his own to get drunk, which he also likes).
One I used in my apprentice days was a White Line Inspector.

PS This refers to the lines in the middle of the road, in the seventies it didn't have coke connotations.
 
I'm tempted to go back in today, I got the impression he was a regular and was saying he had been in since 11.
 
If there is a marine with you then they are the best if there is an SAS guys there then they are the best.

Technically SAS is considered to be 'higher' than the marines apart from the marine SBS units.

My brother, a major in 1para who turned down the sas(what a knob), often said his biggest enemies were the marines.
 
I'm tempted to go back in today, I got the impression he was a regular and was saying he had been in since 11.

Tell him you're a spy and that you're in great danger. Look around nervously then slip him a jar of chutney. Tell him it's a matter of national security and he need to keep hold of it until a man comes along and askes him 'Do you lick the chutney spoon before putting it back'. Then leave quickly.
 
Soon as he starts spouting pish the whole pub will suddenly stop as a screeching sound starts, they will turn round to see my nails being dragged down the specials board where I have drawn up a big shark...

then it starts..

"Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn't see the first shark for about a half an hour. Tiger. Thirteen footer. You know, you know that when you're in the water, chief? You tell by lookin' from the dorsal to the tail. Well, we didn't know. `Cause our bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. Huh huh. They didn't even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, chief. The sharks come cruisin'. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it's... kinda like `ol squares in battle like a, you see on a calendar, like the battle of Waterloo. And the idea was, the shark nearest man and then he'd start poundin' and hollerin' and screamin' and sometimes the shark would go away. Sometimes he wouldn't go away. Sometimes that shark, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a shark, he's got... lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eye. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white. And then, ah then you hear that terrible high pitch screamin' and the ocean turns red and spite of all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in and rip you to pieces. Y'know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men! I don't know how many sharks, maybe a thousand! I don't know how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday mornin' chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player, bosom's mate. I thought he was asleep, reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up and down in the water, just like a kinda top. Up ended. Well... he'd been bitten in half below the waist. Noon the fifth day, Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us, he swung in low and he saw us. He'd a young pilot, a lot younger than Mr. Hooper, anyway he saw us and come in low. And three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened? Waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went in the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the sharks took the rest"
 

Advertisers

Back
Top