And let's not forget, as a MOVER he'd have difficulty in running a bath!
let alone running from some now very angry kidnappers. :D

Pte Walker tried to speak to them in English but they blanked him.

I just like cant believe they blanked him, that is like so rude. Its like racism, except against a language n stuff.

Unless he was a Geordie, then its just a typo and they stared blankly at him.

As expected, a load of sh-ite. The real story - Kuwait based, abusive, pished up mover, grabbed by a group of very angry Ramadam fuelled locals, dragged off for a good flipflopping, managed to run off with hs tail between his drunken legs. Currently being picturised.............

Well the lad got clear and we are not looking at him in "Orange cover-alls" so what ever any one else says. Well done top drills and check the opening times next time.

Originally Posted by devilish

He did claim to get a kicking so maybe it did happen, surely his wounds from the shoeing would be evident.

Read the report from the SCUM where the story originated, there are subtle differences.

BUT

Why are you you out when the pizza parlour is shut?

Why would you speak to anybody in English as the pizza parlour is already definitely and surely obviously shut?

AND

The soldier, who had gone for a pizza in civilian clothes

Pizzas even when 'untopped', NEVER dress in civilian clothes.

10 years ago 2 sweatys both got lost leaving Arlon's nightlife.

One claimed to have headed left instead of right towards Kos instead of returning to the Belgium school of infantry.

The other got gang raped by some Belgiue perves, after they found he was skint.
He maintained he got lost but his inability to sit down or successfully complete a Richard the 3rd proved he was suffering.

Now persec means I cant name and shame, but lets just say they both ate fish suppers on a friday while singing celtic tunes.




Of course they could have just got lost while drunk

Unverifiable, but only to a point. The pizza joint should be easy enough to find and then one would expect him to be able to re-trace his steps and describe what happened and where. I'm sure Kuwait City has plenty of CCTV coverage too.

Originally Posted by right-grumpy

Originally Posted by Manley

Yeah right! I knew of a Jolly Jack who was adrift from H.M.S Penelope many years ago in the Med, we brought him off shore after he had been gone over his liberty, the Jack was a mess, covered in blood and vomit, got aboard and a Chief Buffer copped him, "Adrift, First Lts. defaulters in the mornin.," "I was kidernapperd Chief, straight up". "Bollox, stating a falsehood as well, get forrard." LMFAO, True. :D :D :D :D :D

Can you do this one in English

Verbatim speech, old horse, as heard, verbatim.

Oh dear,another balcony story.

In order to give the chap the benefit of the doubt I dug a bit deeper into this case and came up with this.

Pte Wanker had sweated in his bunk for the last 4 hours. He was going down this time, of that he was sure.

The incident with the goat last Saturday had started as a bit of a laugh until the photographs landed on the desk of Capt Rupert Hee-Haw Hee-Haw the Regimental 2 i/c.

Not so funny now, in retrospect, however, short of going AWOL, which he briefly considered but this would be difficult because this was not Colchester. This was Kuwait City, and Ryanair do not offer a no questions asked, no baggage required service from here back to Blighty.

He glanced at his left wrist and sighed. The watch he’d bought in the local Souk from ‘Honest Mo’ had fallen off yet again.

“Cost me nearly 6 ‘bleedin quid” He muttered under his breath

A quick shufti under his pit revealed the missing Omoga Spudmaster Professional. “As worn by Buzz Aldrin on the moon” The artful Mo had told him last month.

He gave the chronometer a vicious shake (sheik?) and just before the minute hand dropped off he noted that it was 11.30 pm.

He had a date with a large pepperoni and extra cheese.

On his arrival at “Pizza Shut” he was dismayed to find that the store was closed and the staff had gone home.

Life was not looking too rosy for young Wanker. He was on a discipline charge, again, his prized watch was knackered and he was starving.

He wandered around the darkened side streets feeling as lonely as a cloud, he spoke to no-one and no-one spoke to him. He wondered if he was in a no spoken zone.

He glanced into a shop window and noticed a clock showing that the time was now 03.30 am.

Passing behind Ali Barbers the hairdressers he could smell food, and it wasn’t long before his keen nose sniffed out the source.

A ½ cooked goat was hanging from a skip and in his fervent stomach ravished state he lost his footing and accidentally fell into the skip, dragging the goat carcass on top of him.

“Damn these Nikke Air trainers.” He cursed. They too were another indulgent purchase from the profit ridden, Honest Mo at the Souk.

He heaved himself from the skip and checked himself out. His genuine Guchee shirt was covered in goat blood and badly torn. His genuine Armini jeans had split along the seam of the left leg and one of the soles was missing from his genuine Nikke footwear.

All thought of food now gone as he realised that he had to get back to camp before he was mistaken for a tramp.

Plodding miserably along the dusty road towards camp he was spotted by a passing RMP patrol who at first sight thought he was a destitute and were inclined to drive by, but being switched on cookies decided to investigate further.

The heap of rags that was in fact Pte Wanker, fell to the ground as he saw the Land Rover approach, and whimpered. Help me, please help me, I am starving”

Cpl Nickum, a 2 month veteran of the Corps, alighted from his vehicle and couldn’t quite believe his ears. The dishevelled figure lying at his feet was speaking English.

“What’s that you said?” Asked the Corporal. “Something about being starving was it?”

“Yes, yes” Snivelled Wanker, adding. “Have you got any Compo?”

“What’s your name and unit son?” Ordered Cpl Nickum as he lifted the lad to his feet,

“Pte Wanker from Any Corps” Replied Wanker.

“OK Wanker laddie, what’s been occurring?” Asked the Corporal. “And what’s all this guff about food?”

“Food?” Gulped Wanker.”

“No. Not food. I said er, um, I said Foo.”

“Foo?”

“Yes the leader was called Foo.”

“What leader?”

“The gang that attacked me, I heard one of them mention Foo as they chased me up some stairs.”

“Whose Compo then?” asked the Corporal.

“He was one of them as well” Whined Wanker.

“So” Replied the weary Military Policemen as he opened his notebook and licked his genuine Mont Blonk biro bought the previous day, from a nice chap called Honest Mo at the local bazaar. “ Foo and Compo chased you up some stairs, and you managed to escape I presume?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right, I gave a couple of them a bit of a shoeing and then I er, jumped, er, um, from, the, er, balcony, and legged it.”

“We had better take you back to camp then you little hero Wanker” Said the Corporal.

And the rest, as they say is in the papers.

Note.
Private Wanker was due on OC’s Orders parade on the Monday morning to compete in the hatless dance routine, and answer charges relating to a incident on a drunken night out the previous Saturday.

No charges were actually laid during the making of this story.