While still in boys service the following happened, nothing to do with D or V but amusing none the less:
One lad in our billet was about six foot of muscle - a soldier of very little brain; I think he was from farming stock in Somerset or Cornwall. Anyway, one particular S/Sgt drill instructor had a down on this lad and always seemed to pick on him for messy kit. So, the night before a parade (in honour of the Bishop of Bangor who was coming to baptise or confirm the heathen) we all got together and cleaned his kit. The next morning we dressed him and carried him onto the square. He was immaculate!
The aforementioned S/Sgt inspected us and, as usual, started to pull this lad apart. The lad looked him square in the eye and asked, "Staff, what would happen if I hit you"?
"I'd raise my arm and the MPs would march over and run you in" was the reply.
"Not when I hit you..." said the lad, and hit him. The instructor went over backwards and actually slid along the ground.
Two MPs marched over from the guardhouse and ran him in. We never saw him again...

Basic Training - Getting ready for the big passing out parade we were being bounced around the square by the RSM. Marching in file formation I kicked the heel of the chap in front to knock him out of step, except that he didn't just fall out of step, Smudge started a "right Wheel" and stumbled out into oblivion. The Razzman went apoplectic, his pace stick dug holes in the ground as he quick stepped up to the offender,

"Are YOU deliberately trying to embarrass ME ?"

"But......."

"Don't you Fcukin BUT me laddy"

"But.......Sir"

"But me once more and I will HEADBUTT you into the Guardroom - Get back in the ranks, you LAZY, IDLE, FCUKIN SPERMSTAIN"

As Smudgy fell back in -
a simple: "Cnut" was whispered in my direction.

Originally Posted by chrisg46

Not in the same league as the above but...

2 RGBW (TA) colours parade, Windsor 1998. All week beforehand we had been practicing at Longmor, marching from the parade square to the football pitches at the top of the camp. During each rehearsal, the part of the important people (Phil the greek & Gen Mike Jackson) was played by two of the PSI's. Every day, their uniforms would become more and more elaborate, from hats and shoulders covered with braid to coat hangers hanging down with quality street wrappers attached as medals. They would also dawdle during the inspection and have some random and wandering conversations with those on parade.
It culminated on the last day at longmoor with a full rehearsal, with the exact timings as they would be the following day. the CO marched up to the dais and asked permission to march off the parade (or whatever the wording was). Without further ado, the band struck up and began playing the "the stripper" and these two PSI's began shoo wap shoo wapp-ing along. With the CO's shoulders quaking with laughter and the battalion behind in a similar state, these two executed a perfectly choreographed routine, complete with velcro'd trousers to be removed a la Full Monty. It was a struggle not to hum the tune the following day...

Good Drills those men!
While i didn't spew coffee all over my keyboard, i did choke on a Tesco's own brand Mint Imperial.

Not at all comparable to some of the comical stuff revealed so far but an amusing little tale witnessed some years back during the HM golden anniversary event in the capital, culminating in the grand parade along the Golden Mall mile. We were in amongst the milling crowds crushed behind the barriers and unbeknown to me, the missus and her mate had been eye-lining this young copper who was standing the other side of the barrier, supposedly scanning the watching throngs.

They eventually told the rest of us that this lad 'didn't seem to be looking too well' and he could hardly stand still. As soon as I saw him I knew what the cause of his discomfort was, he was clearly in the latter stages of being desperate for a wazz. Rocking back and forth and stepping constantly from foot to foot whilst scanning his darting eyes up and down the surrounding road, presumably awaiting his relief whilst trying to adopt as dignified a stance as possible.

I lost track of time during the period that followed, other than to keep an eye on the unfortunate plod until suddenly the lasses in our group gave a startled gasp together, and we all watched The Met's answer to it's very own 'dumb and dumber' bend forwards, hands planted just above his knees with his distorted facial features just about revealing a comination of pain, relief and panic emanating from his bowed head..

...and standing right there he lashed his strides with a seemingly torrential burst of pent-up anguish - at least the rapidly forming puddle next to his right shoe left no-one watching the event unfold in any doubt as to his misfortune. If he managed to stem the flow after the initial release, then his need must have been more monumental than imaginable because the lake on the roadside could have provided a temporary home for one of the royal park's pelicans!!

To give the lad his dues, he maintained his position for a little longer in spite of it all until minutes later, he was ushered away to who-knows-where by a colleague who looked as startled as every astonished on-looker.

Young coppers, eh - who trains 'em?!

(apologies for making this topic my first post but it seemed an apt one to share)

Originally Posted by MadMart

Nthe lake on the roadside could have provided a temporary home for one of the royal park's pelicans!!

That line alone makes you more than welcome.

Cracking first post, more stuff like that please.

Is this real

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6ttV...eature=related

Or this?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHj2V...om=PL&index=70

The old man said he was going to rip the blokes liver out when he saw the second one!

After a night on the lash and having to mount guard at BP, off we go from Chelsea Barracks feeling not very well in tunic, bearskin, SLR and shiny boots. Half way down the road, tin flute band whistling away and that noisy base drum resounding in my head, a mighty grumbling started from below and I could feel a burning volcano rising up through the throat. Being on the outside and turning my head and slightly lowering it a collosal eruption of liquid eject in an arc over the road and headed towards the gutter. Through tear soaked eyes and burning throat, I saw several tourists screw their faces up and one joined in with a flow of her own. A quick wipe of the mouth with my hand and a flick in time to the music and a small bit of residue was thrown onto the road. Surprisingly none of it landed on me but did catch the heels of the shiny boots in front.

My Bn was due to recieve new colours in 1977. The plan was for the Bn to march into Canturbury from the barracks, church service in the Cathedral and then a march through the town - flags flying, drums beating, fixed bayonets - the usual fluff.

Anyway, there were lots of rehersals prior to the big day and the weather was quite warm.

There was the usual flurry of people being stabbed, ripping their No 2's etc when fixing bayonets, plus the odd puking from those who'd been on the lash the night before, but the highlight for me was a Snco in the colour party who fainted with impeccable style.

We had been standing in the sun for about half an hour waiting for something or other (and getting very hot and sweaty) when the Snco began wobbling a bit (I was stood in the ranks behind the colour party and had a good view).

After 30 seconds or so of wobbling he came to attention and executed a perfect Ground Arms with his SLR. Remaining in the kneeling position he brought his arms into the position of attention, and then veeeeeerrrryyy slowly keeled over onto his side, still kneeling at attention.

The only time I ever saw anyone faint in a military manner rather than going down like a sack of spuds.

:D

Rodney2q

Howe Bks ,Queens Regt ?

Not a spewing dit but an amusing occurrence whilst on ceremonial divisions at Her Majesty's finest training establishment HMS Collingrad.

The entire parade was lined up and the usual notices were read out, a few medals presented, a Godly chat from the bish etc. Finally the time came to march off and do a quick lap of the parade square via a quick salute of the Admiral on the dais. As one particular Division marched past and executed a perfect eyes right, an unfortunate young and very lippy scouse Wren had her shoe accidentally trodden off by the lad behind her. The shoe was left trailing behind as she marched proudly in the front rank with one bright pink sock in full view. She simply carried on as if no one had noticed and merrily marched round to the drill shed to receive her shoe back and the bollocking of her life.