ARmy Rumour SErvice

Originally Posted by responder1

I've been ripped off! The QM told me it was a quarter of a pint of rum per day.

Given my naval heritage we shall adopt the following for the rum ration:

The rum ration shall be based on a standard naval tot of rum consisting of an eighth of a pint of rum (which was over 50% ABV, and was traditionally named "overproof").

Once a rating (other ranks for you landlubbers) reaches the age of twenty he is entitled to draw his tot. Senior Rates are entitled to drink this neat, however Junior Rates will have a "2 in 1" which means that it is mixed with two parts water to one part rum. The reason for this is to assure concerned parents that their boys are well treated and not overly influenced by Demon Rum.
shall be a blend from different countries in the Caribbean, most notably British Guyana, British Virgin Islands and Trinidad

Originally Posted by Gobbly wobbly

Ok sign me up as sigs platoon sergeant. None of this bowman crap. I want flags that I can wave on the battlefield.

You shall have it.

Dear JJH,

Do you need a barrier lifter? Or have you already asked the Canadians to do that sort of thing?

If so, pm me. I can send a CV (no minimum wage shit, mind)

Originally Posted by FORMER_FYRDMAN

Having already posted my CV in response to that cr@p request from a TV company two weeks ago about experience of elite selection programmes, I'm a bit disappointed not to be in line for a key appointment in this new elite - especially given my LE background. By way of a memory jogger:

Dear Anne/Bob,

I wondered why you changed sex, then I realised it was the weekend.

I would like to help you with your television programme in the capacity of advisor. Yours is not a new idea – the last time this format was tried, live ammunition was accidently mixed with blank. I still miss Jill Dando.

I joined the Selous Scouts and transferred to the Rhodesian Light Infantry and then transferred back again. Selection for both units consisted of drinking two crates of beer and a bottle of brandy before climbing over Barking Bob’s (any relation?) bungalow while singing ‘Rise, O voices of Rhodesia’. You then ran round the compound chased by four randy Ridgebacks.

When Bob (any relation?) Mugabe took over, I headed south and joined the South African Recce. This was an elite unit and selection involved shooting at cardboard cut-outs of Trevor MacDonald while running around with an iron cross (not a Nazi medal – although Japie Steenkirk’s dad had been in the Waffen SS) while being chased by a rhinoceros specially bred for the purpose. The Recce was commanded by Commandant Jan Breytenbach, who should not be confused with his brother Breyten Breytenbach, who was on the other side. They wanted to kill each other, which made for tension at family gatherings.

I took part in Operation Biltong which involved deep penetration with little chance of survival – like a Barrymore pool party. The team was myself, Ronnie ‘Wood’ Du Kock, Hennie ‘The Twat’ Du Toit, Thys La Rue, and his brother Danny. We bit off more than we could chew and had to split up and evade. Hennie said we should disguise ourselves as Bushmen so we blacked up with boot polish before I remembered I was almost six foot and had to walk the 200 miles to safety on my knees.

After multiple skin grafts, I left the Recce, went to America and joined Delta at the same time as John Belushi. Selection was based on the size of your personal gun collection and singing two verses of ‘The Bonnie Blue Flag’. I was then seconded to the SEALS for a time, which involved having fish thrown at you while you held your breath for as long as possible. When you’ve had Big Aggie oil her arse and sit on your face for twenty minutes in the ‘Laughing Sjambok’, holding your breath’s not so tough (Aggie would be great for your programme. Last I heard she was living in Flaangedorp, though in the new South Africa it’s now called Dugashi).

All this was before the Yanks got a weed up their arse about Moslems, so there was nothing to do except eat doughnuts and read endless copies of ‘Guns and Gunmen’. I left Delta and joined the Foreign Legion. Their training regime involved more singing and an intensive course in African prostitution. I made Caporal Chef in three years (it usually takes six), which is a respected rank in the world of military catering. Half way through my fourth year, someone told me that the Legion was part of the French Army. At first I thought it was a wind up, like the ones Hennie the Twat used to do about crocodiles in the Limpopo, but it turned out that it was true (which explained why I never knew what the hell I was singing about) so I deserted immediately.

I made my way to the UK with a view to joining the Paras but I spoke to a couple and they reminded me of my cousin Simple Kenny, who had his head stood on by a Hippo while on a camping trip up by Lake Kariba when he was a small boy – I guess they must have a lot of Hippos in Aldershot.

I gave up on the Paras and tried the Royal Marines. I was expecting a tough time with the world famous British Commandos but the final exercise involved a trip to Brighton dressed in drag and singing ‘I will survive’ in the Bulldog Tavern, so I joined the SAS.

A lot has been written about ‘Selection’ so I won’t repeat it here. What I would say is that it’s nowhere near as tough as people say. If you have a good agent, the publishers will select you. While I was with the SAS, I learned to disguise myself as a balcony and attach myself to buildings, and I also met Andy McNab (real name Abu Qatada). I was intensively trained by Lofty Wiseman and have a Diploma in Beauty Therapy as a result. I also have an HND in manicure and pedicure together with an entry level qualification in acupuncture and aromatherapy.

After beating the clock, I did some work in the private security world and moved in the same circles as the famous Baron Castleshortt. He was no Lofty Wiseman, more of a wafty liesman, so I left. I’ve studied silent killing under Marcel Marceau and I’m currently studying advanced assassination techniques in Russia, though the Doc says I can’t finish the course until I’ve completed chemo.

I would be very happy to share my extensive experience of the world’s elite fighting forces with Celia and Louise but they will need to be dressed appropriately (I still have some kit from the Marines, though I can’t believe they got to where they are in the TV industry by wearing dungarees) and feed me peeled grapes whilst frolicking playfully. Don’t send anyone else - I’ve never been prone to PTSD but I don’t want to risk it at my time of life. Under no circumstances send Will – he reminds me of a bloke I stabbed in Penang for being bald and ugly.

I look forward to our successful Creative collaboration and I’ll pop out to get some grapes while you’re drawing up the contract.

De oppresso liber, second to none and vive la Legion,

FF

In recognition of your extravagant CV, you are hereby appointed Captain of Deep Penetration with rank as of the date of appointment. In addition, give yourself an appropriate award of your choosing as we cannot have captains walking around slick-chested.

Originally Posted by King_of_the_Burpas

Dear JJH,

Do you need a barrier lifter? Or have you already asked the Canadians to do that sort of thing?

If so, pm me. I can send a CV (no minimum wage shit, mind)

Barrier lifter has indeed been taken by the denizens of the frozen north. However, there is an opening still remaining for Fan-bearer on the Right Side of the Ki.....erm, I mean Colonel.

Originally Posted by jumpinjarhead

In recognition of your extravagant CV, you are hereby appointed Captain of Deep Penetration with rank as of the date of appointment. In addition, give yourself an appropriate award of your choosing as we cannot have captains walking around slick-chested.

It's nice to be appreciated - it's dusty in here... but only cos she's sh1t at dusting and needs a klop.

I humbly request that the rum ration be increased to 1 bottle of Bundy per man per day. Rum and automatic weapons, a winning combination.

Originally Posted by jumpinjarhead

Barrier lifter has indeed been taken by the denizens of the frozen north. However, there is an opening still remaining for Fan-bearer on the Right Side of the Ki.....erm, I mean Colonel.

Damn those bloody Canucks. Am ok with the fan-bearer pos, though. I have my own Oakleys (sunglasses to you septic chaps) and I built a barrier out of my own excrement in my down time. I'm exhibiting it at RIAT this year, because the RAF love that sort of thing.