[align=center]Chapter Two[/align]

Flabby had spent rather a restless night at Knocker’s house. He was homeless, carless as that had been in what was the garage and all that was left, apart from boxes and boxes of crap which miraculously and unfortunately had survived the blast, was one solitary fluffy dice and a bit singed round the edges it was. He was also potless as he’d broken his one and only pot even before the hit squad had turned up. Flabby washed and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was greying now as the entire supply of Grecian 2000 had also been a casualty. There were lines on his face or so he thought but then realised it was just that the mirror was absolutely bogging. “I’ll have a word with Knocker about that” he said to himself. He headed for the bedroom and put on some of Knocker’s old clothes and bloody old they were. “I hope fcuking flares are back in fashion” he uttered and headed downstairs for breakfast. Picking himself up in the hall as he’d managed to trip himself up on a wayward flare and fallen down the stairs, he walked into the kitchen and uttered some good mornings. “Morning Flabby” replied Knocker looking resplendent in his pinny. “Eggs ok?” he asked. “Didn’t hurt myself a bit” replied Flabby. “No you w@nker, I meant are eggs ok for breakfast?” shouted Knocker not a morning person by all accounts. “I knew they’d gone” said Flabby referring to the fact he’d spent hours in the cellar when the hit squad were long gone. This was roughly the eighty-second time he’d mentioned it and it probably won’t be the last. “Course you did Flabby” replied Knocker for roughly the eighty-second time. “Boiled?” asked Knocker. “No, just going a bit thin on top” replied Flabby miles away. “For fcuk sake will you pay attention!” shouted Knocker again, his patience tried to the limit.

So they settled down for breakfast and the conversation topic wandered but somehow always seemed to get back to the fact that Flabby knew the hit squad had already gone or so he said. Knocker mostly ignored him but did throw in the odd “Course you did Flabby” for good measure. Breakfast finished Flabby fell up the stairs this time and managed to find one of Knocker’s old tracksuits that did smell a bit and had some strange stains in even stranger places but at least it would pass a Health and Safety inspection though with those stains perhaps only just. So managing to negotiate the stairs safely Flabby sat back in the kitchen and waited as Knocker now with pink gloves did the washing up. Flabby wasn’t sure if Knocker looked more like Kim or more like Aggie but decided not to try Knocker’s patience any more and dropped it. “Right let’s go” said Knocker. “Aren’t you going to take your pinny off first?” asked Flabby. “Fcuk it!” shouted Knocker and tried to undo the knot of his pinny. Quite difficult to do when you’re wearing rubber gloves I would imagine though the fact they were pink probably made no difference. So Knocker now finally pinny-less they jumped in the car and headed off for Flabby’s brief/debrief. Of course the car was in the garage and they had to go into the garage first. But as it was a bit on the small side, the garage that is, not the car, Knocker had to back it out first and then Flabby climbed in. I did originally neglect to mention this as I thought that by mentioning garages, I might hurt Flabby’s feelings but I was obviously wrong. Apologies for that and back to the story.

Now Sterling Lines has seen some changes since we were last there. Joe the Security Guard is long gone and if you have a spare minute or two, I’d like to tell you what happened to him. It’s a sad story but please bare with me or shouldn’t that be bear with me? Whatever and if you’re not interested in what happened to Joe, then are perfectly entitled to skip this paragraph and we can all continue with the story proper in a minute or two. So back to Joe. Joe had always been asleep in his hut, something he’d done virtually since the day he started but during a particularly bad period in his life he suffered from insomnia. Sleep at night was not a problem but a day became a long and drawn out bore without dropping off for forty winks at regular intervals. To relieve some of the boredom, Joe took to reading. At first Jeffrey Archer would send him off to the land of nod with no problems but later even this failed to work so Joe resorted to harder stuff. He digested and spat out whole the Complete Works of Shakespeare, Tolstoy’s War and Peace was an afternoon read and even the SAS Publishing series of ‘Guess the Ghost Writer’ featuring some of the men he’d actually kept waiting while asleep on the job couldn’t satisfy his appetite. Ghost writers were regular visitors to Sterling Lines as after each and every SAS operation, the whole escapade would be in print in a matter of months. Of course this all didn’t help poor old Joe who was desperate. The long hours of staying awake were taking their toll. He even tried Insomniacs Anonymous but fell asleep during the meeting. On his way out of the meeting, he’d been the last to leave as nobody had dared to wake him, he walked past a newsagent shop and it was one that sold lottery tickets. Actually the only thing it didn’t seem to sell was newspapers but that’s not really important right now. Joe bought a ticket and he won. A double rollover jackpot of nine million quid. So Joe is now languishing on some Caribbean island with topless beauties at his beck and call. He’s even got a few women about the place but the question is, is he happy? Of course he fcuking is but he does miss his job. It gave him a purpose in life and there was really nothing better than that totally satisfying clunk as you dropped the barrier down on yet another car bonnet.

Right, so welcoming back those who skipped the last paragraph, let’s get on with the story. As said previously, Sterling Lines has seen some changed since our last visit. We already know about Joe’s fete as he has one every Saturday because it reminds him of home or if you didn’t before, you do now but security on the camp was now handled by Group 6, a subsidiary of QinetiP which is one of the world's leading defence technology and security companies and it provides (usually cheapskate) security for most of the MoD. The man on the gate today was Tomasz Schafernaker, not the one who does the weather on the telly but another one. He had been especially selected due to the fact that he never answered back but the fact he didn’t actually speak any English probably had something to do with it. The camp entry system or barrier to those not in the security industry was all electronic and Tomasz was really only there just in case the camp entry system buggered up, which it seemed to do on a daily basis. Knocker slid in the camp entry system electronic memory device or ticket to the uninformed and the camp entry system electronic memory device reader spat the bugger out. Knocker swearing under his breath climbed out the car, picked up the camp entry system electronic memory device, climbed back in the car and tried again. The camp entry system electronic memory device reader again spat out the camp entry system electronic memory device so Knocker gunned the engine and drove through the camp entry system, snapping it off where it joined the camp entry system vertical directionary control mechanism or box what holds the raising and lowering mechanism and the motor in plain (ish) simple English. Tomasz was unmoved and after scratching his nuts as they were a bit sweaty, switched the kettle on for a nice cup of tea. You could still just hear Knocker swearing, quite amazing really as there were helicopters landing close by. An interesting fact is that the black Agusta 109 which took over from the Scout as people only used to dangle from them, has been replaced by the Septemba 109, a marvel of British, Italian, German, French and American engineering though most of the parts are actually manufactured in China except for the seat covers which come from Indonesia. The only downside of the Septemba 109 really, is you can’t lick it or suck it as the paint unfortunately contains lead. Still, a small price to pay I say.

“Morning Flabby” said Major Tom. “Morning boss” replied Flabby. “What the fcuk happened mate?” asked Major Tom though not really a question as he’s already read this chapter so more of a rhetorical question I suppose. “The barsteward led me right up the fcuking garden path” replied Flabby answering anyway and I have a sneaky suspicion he’s talking about me. “Yep, it’s not just God that moves in mysterious ways, crap authors do as well” speculated Major Tom starting to annoy me. They sat in the briefing room and talked of many things, energy prices, if Major Tom will have to give his family heirloom to the Russians as its Georgian or according to the hallmark it is. “We’re going to have to put you and Knocker in a safe house Flabby” explained Major Tom and Flabby hoped it would be safer than the last one. A door opened and in walked two ‘suits’ and a quick check of their ties showed one was an MI5 suit and the other an MI6 suit. The way to tell is that MI5 have green ties with red stripes and MI6 have red ties with green stripes. There, some totally useless information for you and something to tell all your friends, if in fact you have any. “Which of you is Smith and which of you is Jones?” asked Flabby totally au fait with the workings of the intelligence services. “I’m Mr Heliotrope, MI5” said the first suit. “And I’m Mr Magenta, MI6” replied the second suit. “Back to bloody colours again I see” remarked Flabby smiling. The suits explained in long and boring detail how a handful of republicans were quite prepared to take on the security services including the SAS and after last night’s show seem perfectly capable of doing it as well. All those involved in the Slob Murphy affair were now in safe houses or would be within a few hours. So Flabby, Knocker, Ryan Christopher and of course the walking chimney ‘Smudge’ Smith would be sharing one house and ‘Danny Boy’ Dhmorerghahenaienain (Wilkins), ‘Taff’ Leek, ‘Jock’ Ferguson and ‘Nige’ Nigel Ruperting-Smythe would be sharing the other. Rikshaw would also be joining to make up the numbers and just in case they wanted any dodgy gear. “So who the fcuk’s going to protect us?” asked Flabby. “We are” replied the two suits almost in unison and I don’t mean the union. Flabby laughed, oh how he laughed as the two rather annoyed suits just looked on. “And who the fcuk’s going to protect you?” added Flabby almost pishing himself.

The move to the safe house was needlessly complicated with decoy cars leaving Sterling Lines while Flabby and Knocker were flown out in a shiny new Septemba 109. “Don’t forget, please do not suck or lick the paintwork” shouted the pilot also rather needlessly as Flabby’s sucking and licking days were over or were as far as his love life was concerned. Of course the pilot had to mention the paintwork as in today’s sue and be damned climate you just had to get your retaliation in first. Flabby and Knocker had also signed (in triplicate) an indemnity waiver form so that was them suitably done up like a kipper. The pilot did his pre-flight checks, selected the in-flight movie, chose the subtitle language, checked his emails, downloaded a TomTom update, watched something on YouTube, checked the Army Aviation website as he was a member, chatted to a rather nice girl on Pacefarty and then shut down as fuel was low. After half an hour, the Septemba 109 now fully refuelled and with a jerry can in the back just in case lifted off blowing Major Tom’s Smart car onto its side. Still, he had been warned about that before and since it’s only half a car, it must be half the damage. The pilot knocked it into top while the crewman played Tomb Raider and the Septemba headed away from Hereford towards the secret location. There was a slight problem as while it was a secret location, it would perhaps be advantageous if the pilot knew where it was. One quick call on the secure radio and the problem was sorted. Flabby and Knocker just settled down and enjoyed the ride.

The Septemba landed at the army camp at Beachley narrowly missing the Severn Bridge which the pilot insisted pulled out in front of him. Flabby and Knocker were bundled into a car with four suits which was not particularly comfortable as it was a Ford Fiesta. Finally one of the suits realised there was another car so the numbers were distributed more evenly and a vague degree of comfort restored. The cars sped through the Gloucestershire countryside and despite killing a sheep en route, the journey was fairly uneventful. They were in the Forest of Dean where men are men and sheep are nervous and is actually an area the author knows well though nothing really much about sheep or being intimate with them. The roads seemed to get narrower and some were no more than a track. Actually that one was a track but a quick reverse and they were back on track or more accurately, on road. Finally they arrived at a quaint cottage just off the main road but totally isolated apart from a herd of cows and a flock of sheep as the neighbour was a farmer or he just liked lots of girlfriends. Anyway, his place was almost quarter of a mile away so not too close for comfort. Flabby ran his expert eye over it and then ran his less experienced eye over it as well and came to the conclusion that while it was remote, the good thing it had going for it was its close proximity to beef and mutton. Knocker in the other car had already come to same conclusion and his outburst of “What do you fcuking suits know” probably didn’t help the situation.

They were whisked inside which isn’t as painful as it sounds and found themselves in a nice airy light kitchen. Some of the suits patrolled the perimeter while others checked the house and one even swept it for bugs. Flabby switched the kettle on while Knocker drooled over the Aga, not the one called Khan that’s the Imam of the Nizārī Muslims but the big fcuk off cooker in the corner of the kitchen. “We’re fcuked Flabby” remarked Knocker. He didn’t mean they weren’t perfectly capable of taking on and defeating the republican scum but they were being protected themselves and had no weapons of any shape or form. This was actually very quickly changed as one of the suits pressed a keypad hidden in the back of the utility room and a door popped open. Inside was a vast array of weapons in all shapes, sizes and calibres. “Fcuk a stoat!” shouted Knocker. “It’s like being let loose in a sweet shop” exclaimed Flabby helping himself to a few handy pieces of weaponry including the world famous assault rifle and Flabby’s own personal favourite, the Heckler O’Koch G36C. So now armed to the teeth and a bit more, Flabby and Knocker sat in the kitchen feeling a bit more upbeat. There was still no sign of Ryan and Smudge but one of the suits explained they were en route. “I hope we’ve left them something” joked Flabby stroking his gat. “Neither of them could hit a barn door at twenty paces” joked Knocker though this was of course untrue as Smudge if not smoking or lighting up or stubbing out or flicking his ash or opening another packet could shoot the balls off a fruit fly. There was a bit of sudden activity from the suits and Flabby hoped this was Ryan and Smudge. He was right; one car with all its windows open looked as though it had caught fire. As it ground to a halt, the suits debussed left, right and anywhere they could find for some fresh air. Out of the car stepped Smudge with a huge grin and a ciggie in each hand. From the other car in less dramatic fashion out stepped Ryan and then there were four.

Pure genius. Just started so only on chapter 2 so far, but i', getting the impression that you're the Tom Sharpe of defence

There was one written by a clerk serving at 'H', it was called 'Bravo two Zippo'. From the 'H' top brass down, it was read...mega funny piss take book

Originally Posted by pyrogenica

Pure genius. Just started so only on chapter 2 so far, but i', getting the impression that you're the Tom Sharpe of defence

Thanks pyrogenica, I'll keep chucking 'em on here as long as people keep reading 'em.

I'm just glad to be back and glad the thread's back as it did a disappearing act for a while. Thanks to Bad CO for all his efforts as it was a real sod to find.

If you dont mind I might print the lot off and read it? I'll put some cash into the HFHeroes tin/similar next time I can.

Just reading that bit about the pilot insisting the Severn Bridge pulled out in front of him!! Nice touch.

Originally Posted by Mr_Deputy

If you dont mind I might print the lot off and read it? I'll put some cash into the HFHeroes tin/similar next time I can.

Just reading that bit about the pilot insisting the Severn Bridge pulled out in front of him!! Nice touch.

Mr Deputy. No probs there. If there was ever any chance of making any money I'd like it to go to a good cause.

I personally don't see myself as one.

good cause? Course you are. Something of an interesting career you had if I recall your admissions a year or two ago!
Not read it all but looks like a good read.

nice to see you back Mistersoft

... and Flabby's crew as well of course ...

Originally Posted by mistersoft

[b]If anybody is interested in a chapter three, please let me know.

:D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Oh yes please! Best thing I have read in ages...

Rodney2q

Mr Deputy. Inanimate objects should be treated with the utmost of caution even those that sway occasionally in the wind. The ground is also an inanimate object and has sadly taken many an aviator who didn't show it due respect. The only difference is perhaps that while a price is paid, as opposed to the Severn Bridge it wasn't a toll.

Rockape, thanks to you I found out that the thread had disappeared as I never believed somebody could create so many dead links. Thanks for that and I'm glad I'm back as well as Flabby's inadequate bunch of heroes.

Rodney2q, I'm working on it and unless there's a death in the family (mine for example) then it should be posted tomorrow.

Seriously, a few months ago I was toying with the idea of publishing on a site such as http://www.lulu.com/uk/ and while I love writing, I really don't want the trappings that go with success as:

1. I won't be successful
2. There's no fcuking way I'm going on Richard and Judy

So as a form of compromise, I thought I could finish this story, bundle it with the other stories and sell it on Lulu with ALL profits going to a recognized charity such as SSAFA. Any help or suggestions on that would be really welcome.

Thanks.