A story of Love, Hate ... and metaphors

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by shortfuse, Jan 5, 2006.

Welcome to the Army Rumour Service, ARRSE

The UK's largest and busiest UNofficial military website.

The heart of the site is the forum area, including:

  1. Once upon a time there was a girl who was attracted to a soldier, all her friends warned her off of him as he was rude and aggressive, but he was hysterically funny at times and she found herself drawn to him.

    She loved the soldier for all his faults, and promised never to try and change him but to accept his roughness and just enjoy being in his company which she found to be very entertaining.

    The soldier for his part “tolerated” the girl, she wasn’t really his cup of tea and after a day at work he liked a few beers and a chat with his mates, she knew nothing really of the army and it’s ways and so didn’t really contribute much to the conversation but didn’t really mind as she found it both informative and at times jaw achingly funny.

    After going out for a while, the girl started to notice the soldier wasn’t actually paying her that much attention. When he was with his mates he tended to ignore her a bit and lark about with his chums which she didn’t mind but she started to flirt a bit with his mates instead now some of his mates were down right rude to her which shouldn’t of shocked her as they were squaddies, and some took it to heart and actually thought she really did like them this started to lead to splits in the group of squaddie mates with some wanting the girl around more in the vain hope that if the soldier cast her off they might get a go, and others wanting her to just “do one” and leave them to their (entirely heterosexual you understand) japes and pranks.

    The girl was now starting to get fed up with being told she wasn’t wanted around by the soldier’s friends and decided to tackle him about it…
    “Your Friends don’t like me, and some of them have been extremely rude and called me horrible names” she said.
    “So what?”” .. Said the soldier, “You know what they’re like that’s what they DO … you have to be thick skinned and give as good as you get if you want to drink with me, and then MAYBE they might accept you.”

    The girl harrumphed a bit about this .. who was he telling her what to do … she made another attempt to flirt with his friends to regain his attention but she now found that even some of the ones who she had bestowed her favours and awards on before had grown tired of her ways and now THEY were being rude to her, a lot of rude and hateful things were said by the soldiers to the girls along the lines of
    “This is a squaddie pub, if you don’t like it f**k off to the swanky wine bar in the high street” but the girls thought “No way .. this is a public place and if we want to drink in here then we will”…. But the abuse continued.

    Things degenerated to the point where the girl and her mates, and the soldier and his mates were drinking in separate bars, and apart from the odd barbed comment across the pub they were hardly talking … this kept the fighting down to a reasonable level, but the overall atmosphere in the pub was taking a hammering and it was becoming boring and nothing like the fun place it had used to be.

    Now, you can take any moral from this tale you like to be honest, but if you want to post on this or any other thread for that matter in a constructive or humorous way, then I will be only to pleased to look upon you as a fellow ARRSER, but remember if you want to play on an ARMY site, then grow a thick skin… and fast.

    This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblance to any characters living or dead is entirely malicious on my part. :D
  2. You been talking to my missus again?
  3. RTFQ


    This fictional doris gave great head round the back of said pub when her boyfriend, who we'll call LittleBurnyLaceThing, wasn't looking.

    If I may extend Shortfuze's metaphor, there's only one 'pub' where squaddies can get together and have a proper grown-up laugh, within that establishment there's only really one corner where they're allowed to completely let rip. The rest of the establishment, indeed the rest of the internet - I mean world - is a haven for normal people to get laid, voice their opinions and baulk at our coarseness. All types are welcome in that corner, but no-one should get upset if they get called nasty names or hear rude words.

    There's plenty of Faceparty.coms but only one naafi bar.

    I fucking love you gumbo.
  4. I shall just get myself a G&T and settle in for this one! Fab post well thought up!
  5. Top post Shortfuse.

    Well thought out, probing and insightful.

    My one minor criticism is that you couldn't think of a way of including a metaphorical microwaved human tu-rd.
  6. But then the soldier, realising he'd blown it, started to reveal a few "state secrets" to impress the bird and her gullible cock-hungry friends. Only they really weren't "state secrets" (because the army doesn't tell admin queens all of it's secrets), just a few conversations about the running of a particular part of the regiment, and lo and behold, she and all of her friends find out about them and start boasting to one another in their little corner of the bar about how "inside the loop" they are thinking that the grown ups wouldn't find out, but they did and they weren't happy about it.

    The a few grown ups though "hang on a momento chaps, this isn't the fun it used to be" and considered how they might all get back to the old days where fun was had, japes were played, banter was freely thrown and knitting and make-up weren't talked about anywhere in the bar at all.

    Sadly though, the girls couldn't take the hint that the bar had no intention of changing to be more "feminine", certain that there would be a few more soldiers where the last lot came from..... (it is after all a busy NAAFI)
  7. :-D
    Awesome of the Fonz/gumbo/bong-eye/Lorraine to sort it out!!! "heeeeeeeeeeeey!"

    Woopert - state secrets aren't welcome to be discussed by anyone who isn't a grown-up. Hopefully the soldier's girlfriend(s) have realised the predicament they have placed themselves in by trying to be 'Miss Popular' and buy everyone a large drinkipoo to make up for it...

    Convoy - a microwave turd would have been preferable to a sanitary waste bin being thrown about as a 'conversation stopper' :lol: :lol:
  8. Fcuk me in terms of allegories it sounds just like the Bonobo/Chimpanzee dichotomy

    Here's the science bit

    So we're the chimps and they are the bonobos
  9. And just to confirm I'm a chimp heres a typical greeting for you mate


  10. *bump

    so Mr Fonz... is there another chapter to this story?

    Its like a Mills and Boon with a slight twist - If you know what I mean... just a little bit tacky and cheap but you still turn the page!
  11. I understand Shortfuse has to turn his pages 3 or 4 at a time as they are all stuck together! :lol:
  12. Bloody Hell WTF is this humour in the NAAFI?

    'Quick some one get the crash cart there may just be a flicker of life left......'

    Top post Shortfuse!

  13. I've never been one for metaphors, so I will interpret this story by quoting Clarence Boddicker from Robocop

    "Bitches leave."
  14. :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:
  15. Eventually she'd had enough of her former lovers behaviour and left him and his mates to it.

    Much rejoicing was had. In a fit of joy the NAAFI was smashed up by the remaining punters. Lot's of merrymaking ensued and the noise of drunken bezzering could be heard all over the internet.

    After things had died down a bit, the soldier began to realise that he missed her a bit. Not in the way that he'd miss a dead family pet though. More like the way you miss an itchy ricker after you've given it a good scratching.

    So he asked her to come back on his terms. Time away had given her time to think as well. She realised that without the ribald attention that she'd been receiving from him and his mates, her life had simply lost purpose. Men she met after this were always compared to the squaddie and his pals and came up wanting. She began to realise that she actually liked the flack she'd been receiving and it had subconsciously made her gash rather frothy.

    So she agreed.

    His terms were punishing but acceptable.

    She must never try to change him again.
    He must be allowed to kidney punch her whenever he felt like it.
    She must always be vocal in her gratitude for being allowed to share the same space as him and his mates.
    If she ever raised a topic of conversation again that met with disdain he was allowed to break pub furniture across the back of her napper. If the furniture was well built and failed to break he was allowed a second swing without her putting her hands up.