ARmy Rumour SErvice

I wasn't present at the time of this fine display of mongery but having later worked with the bloke in question I have no trouble doubting it......

Night time in Sierra Leone and the off going sentry wakes up his relief and (despite SOP's) heads back to the stag position leaving the lad in question to stash his gonk bag away and head towards the stag position under his own steam.

10 minutes pass with no sign of the relief, so the off going stag goes back to investigate the delay. It turns out the oncoming stag had sleepily delved into the side pouch of his Bergan looking for his mozzie net and, like a complete tit, mistakenly stuck the issued submersion sack (with the similar drawstring) over his head instead. Blind as a bat and no doubt struggling to breath, he then proceeded to totally miss the guiding paracord and crash off into the undergrowth muttering "kin hell, these jungle nights are dark". Luckily the stags managed to reign the silly twat back in before he either suffocated or fell into the hands of the West Side Boys.....and Christ knows what they would have made of him?

Everyman an Emperor?

Originally Posted by plant_life

I remember 1 PWRR pod op in Kosovo on Agricola 4 (worked in Waterloo lines, those who were there will remember him). He got out as a 22 year private. Somebody told me he'd been on the phone making sure his missus was alright as she'd been complaining that her hoop was giving her gip after some bloke had been banging her up the wrong'un!

Know who you mean from that tale. Similar stories cropped up often about him/his mrs. Had forgotten he'd come on tour with us that time tbh.

Originally Posted by Honky Tonk Donk

I wasn't present at the time of this fine display of mongery but having later worked with the bloke in question I have no trouble doubting it......

Night time in Sierra Leone and the off going sentry wakes up his relief and (despite SOP's) heads back to the stag position leaving the lad in question to stash his gonk bag away and head towards the stag position under his own steam.

10 minutes pass with no sign of the relief, so the off going stag goes back to investigate the delay. It turns out the oncoming stag had sleepily delved into the side pouch of his Bergan looking for his mozzie net and, like a complete tit, mistakenly stuck the issued submersion sack (with the similar drawstring) over his head instead. Blind as a bat and no doubt struggling to breath, he then proceeded to totally miss the guiding paracord and crash off into the undergrowth muttering "kin hell, these jungle nights are dark". Luckily the stags managed to reign the silly twat back in before he either suffocated or fell into the hands of the West Side Boys.....and Christ knows what they would have made of him?

Everyman an Emperor?

There is a laughingly called 'jungle school' in Kathedini in Kenya, it may as well have been the New Forest but to be fair we went through the serials for the first few days with out moaning. The chief at the time was a TA SAS chap last name Grant, not the most engaging or helpful chap on the whole, anyway, we got the harbour area sorted, posted stags and set up the obligatory para cord. I took over my pal after a couple of hours zonk and did my hour, after a wank and a bit of day dreaming I heard my replacement crashing about in the ulu. Aware of the implications and of us being fully tac I crept towards him using the para cord as guidance, after a few feet it disappeared from my hands, I rapidly found the shit head but was completely disorientated so we sat where we stood waiting for the sun rise that would allow me a chance of covering up mine and his fuck up, soon as it got half light I shot back to the sentry point and fucked the lemon back off to his pit.

Prick in Malaya who was told not to throw sticks at the monkeys, he did, you know the rest.

Originally Posted by robroy

Prick in Malaya who was told not to throw sticks at the monkeys, he did, you know the rest.

They hand crafted some walking sticks?

I had a mong of a Pakistani interpreter who despite being constantly told otherwise thought 'war dogs' were just big fluffy pets. Until one threw him on the ground at the Iraqi Border and tore off half his arse. He then tried to sue me. Twat.

Originally Posted by Carlos_Sanchez_IX

There is a laughingly called 'jungle school' in Kathedini in Kenya, it may as well have been the New Forest but to be fair we went through the serials for the first few days with out moaning. The chief at the time was a TA SAS chap last name Grant, not the most engaging or helpful chap on the whole, anyway, we got the harbour area sorted, posted stags and set up the obligatory para cord. I took over my pal after a couple of hours zonk and did my hour, after a wank and a bit of day dreaming I heard my replacement crashing about in the ulu. Aware of the implications and of us being fully tac I crept towards him using the para cord as guidance, after a few feet it disappeared from my hands, I rapidly found the shit head but was completely disorientated so we sat where we stood waiting for the sun rise that would allow me a chance of covering up mine and his fuck up, soon as it got half light I shot back to the sentry point and fucked the lemon back off to his pit.

Sticking with the harbour area theme.....on one of the early Excercise's in depot one of the fellow joes allowed his webbing to fall out from beneath his basha in the night where upon a roaming screw stole it and stashed it by his basha in preperation to beast the offending Joe at first light.

The lad in question only realizes his webbing is diffy when he comes to stag on with me at daft o 'clock in the morning. He spends his first hour on stag (my last hour) flapping like a budgie and dreading the punishment he knows is coming his way when the sun comes up. As my relief comes, I plant the seed in flappers mind by simply suggesting that perhaps if he crawls over to the screws basha while its still dark he may have a chance of stealing his own webbing back, chances are the screw wont be able to pin point whose webbing he took in the dark so wont know who stole it back, as if he'd highlight it anyway.

I woke for morning stand too and immediately saw a grim faced flapper being led off into the trees by our screw for the beasting of his short career. It turns out the Joe took my advice and did indeed manage to successfully steal webbing back only to find at first light that he'd mistakenly stolen the screws webbing instead of his own.

Originally Posted by robroy

Prick in Malaya who was told not to throw sticks at the monkeys, he did, you know the rest.

I myself was never in malaya so it goes without saying I didn't throw sticks at monkeys....what happens?