Bar antics

#1
Gents, as it is the NAAFI bar, how about recounting some top flight anecdotes of bar debauchery.
I recall the squadron 5 pint challenge.
A pint of lager, a pint cider, a pint of guiness, a pint of lemonade and a pint of p*ss in under 4 minutes. Vomitting optional but not compulsory

Also "little boy wees" strides and pants round the ankles and shirt lifted up.
AAAAH those were the days
 
#2
On the bar in Minden was two pint pots

you could put ANYTHING in the first if you put money in the second, squaddies imagination ran wild, to find the most vile product to top up the pint pot.

You could take the money if you could neck the pint of phlegm, greenies, dog poo, sick, athletes foot, toe nails etc.
 
#3
Pisssing in my can of lager at my brothers Boxing Night party in 1994 cos I'd run out of lager, in front of my family, his partners family and friends.  Consequently, I'm not invited to his house anymore.

Pisssing downing the leg of my friends jeans in the Chieftain Club, and getting a smack in the gob for my trouble.
 
#4
And you didn't piss yourself of fill yer pants........ what a very dull evening ;D
 
E

error_unknown

Guest
#5
Working in Ireland in 93.

As a result of a big score in the Bogside, the entire unit went on a 28 hour binge in the unit bar. Barrels kept getting paid for from the mainland, so it was our duty to keep drinking.

We had two booties with us at the time who loved the old p*ss and sh*t antics. Let me get this in the right order. Bootie one (Paul) p*ssed in to a pint pot. Bootie two (Marv) consumed the contents. He then spewed in to an adjacent pint pot when his guts couldn't contain Bootie ones, acidic (and dosed up) urine. Pint pot now contains bile, N.S.U tainted vee-vee, and Bootie twos semi-digested Ginsters ploughmans. Man no 3 now yacks a big dockyard oyster (with its own central nervous system) in to the pint pot. Suicidal man no 4 then necks the f*cking lot, accompanied by a great whoop of amazement and joy from the gathered crowd.
With the whole lot of us watching, with baited breath, he kept it all down.......... for about 15 seconds. He then starting walking like a zombie towards the exit. We followed him outside, and watched, stupefied, as his whole body started to convulse. You'd swear he was going to turn into a werewolf or something. After a few seconds of this he started expelling the ugliest spew you've ever seen. He had his head cocked up at about 45 degrees, so the vom was going up into the air a little bit before performing a beautiful swan dive on to his feet.
He was there for about 30 seconds, before the flow began to wane. While he was stood there, man no 5 ran up behind him and with one quick movement, pulled the vommers trousers and gruds straight down to the ground.
As soon as he stopped being sick, he came out of his trance, went to walk back to the bar, and tripped over his tangled clobber, straight in to the big pool he'd just made.
If only we'd taped it for Beadle.
 
#6
And you didn't piss yourself of fill yer pants........ what a very dull evening ;D
You said it !!  No piiss stained, vomit antics, lesbian, commando dancing?  The piece de resistance was giggling and drinking more.  F-S, you need to come up North more often.  Next you'll be telling us you drink with your little finger stuck out.
 
#7
How about Piss jousting ? where 2 guys would run at each other 'schlong' out attempting to power p*ss at each other ? particulary useful if you had a foreskin which allowed for zeppling thus extra pressure - akin to a power wash which smells of sugar puffs.

In fact, I remember being in a bar in NI with the Rigger at a piss sampling party where he commented that mine tasted of Perrier Water. If truth be known the rigger has a bit of a P*ss drinking fetish !

Has anyone ever partook of the ancient art of GIN SNORTING ?
 
#8
A mutual friend of Rigger and I was in Blackpool for a beery night, we went for a meal with some civvy colleagues fo mine and the Drinking began, an inbuilt program made us try and out do each other and generally misbehave.

I lost

Ruth, as I will call him was found on his hands and knees outside the pub padding and wallowing in some vomit, not his own, as soon as my colleagues gave him the reaction he was looking for he tucked in to his dessert and scoffed the lot. To everyones amazement he kept it down and continued drinking until the early hours. I told my doorman mates what he had done and although feeling ill at the thought deep down they didn't believe me

On leaving the club the doorman pulled us both and said that a tramp had been sick on the other side of the road.... Ruth made me proud and ran accross in front of a police meat wagon and again tucked in.

Passers by were both amazed and sickened and were also heaving at the sight. I had a lump in my stomach I felt that proud.
 
#9
Has anyone ever partook of the ancient art of GIN SNORTING ?
I have snorted Tequilla. Painful but interesting!

Never one to refuse a dare
F_S, I dare you to shag me senseless! ;)
 
E

error_unknown

Guest
#10
Just to let you know that you are all absolutely disgusting.  :eek:

F_S - Please don't change your drunken nights out... at least there's still some semblance of human common sense in your actions.

The p*ss, sick and jobbies antics are vile. I will not be coming back to this thread.

Not even to share my own drunken antics! ;)
 
#11
You don't qualify as a man never mind a soldier until you have swamped or been swamped on ;D
 
#12
Sniper_Bird qualifies then :)
 
#13
I like to try most things in life but I can live with being swamped on.

Wirecutters - we are dying to hear the latest on your dilemma - do set up a new post on it if you can - Lonely Hearts section might be best.
F_S
 
#16
A reunion pissup involving myself and four other booties around Easter leave in a certain South Devon coastal town....dressed as barbie glamour dolls. Each member was dressed in a white and pink frock, pink flip flops, a lot of spray on glitter along with ancillaries, miscellaneous - pink sweatbands, pink hairbands, pink...I digress. Not wishing to be called a G3 snob, service support was deftly (in my opinion at least) handled in the form of a pink handbag each, containing combat wallet and phone. Also to be carried was a barbie glamour doll herself, and a barbie twistie straw through which all wets were to be consumed. First man to lose the straw gets reefed, the first to lose the doll gets a "swamp surprise". Anyway....
It was approximately 2100 by the town centre was graced with our presence. In all we made it to four bars (including double visits), no clubs allowed entry and the police attempted to hand out £80 fixed penalty notices on more than one occasion, before we really got going and it was noted that one of our number had lost his straw, and thus had to recieve a frock up, hotpants down reefing with each of our flip flops (and rubber bar mats)...in the middle of a bar that could not have been more anti-military if it had tried. Cue ejection.
After various other escapades involving somersaults through re-inflating bollards on traffic islands, attempted arrest for criminal damage for the afore mentioned, attempted arrest for attempting to bribe a police officer to release the member who committed "criminal damage"..etc, it was time to head for the jacket potato stand.
Here, unfortunately, a local loud mouthed bint who two of us happened to know from school many moons ago decided to launch into unprovoked verbal abuse. After repeated requests for her to "cease your incessant whining wench" things came to a head when it was realised one of us had lost our barbie glamour doll. Consequently, the swamp surprise was delivered and what had been a beautiful frock was ruined by a great deal of lime coloured staining. The loud mouthed bint was stil making a fuss, so it went down like a foreskin at a Bar Mitzvah when one of our number turned to face her, simply smirked and swamped himself. Over her shoes. The two blokes she was with did a runner, and i can only presume that she did not go home to be made airtight that night.
 
#17
Whilst enjoying a p1ss up at the end of a Belfast tour, l watched with amazment as a L/Cpl started to have a bottle fed into his rectum. Unfortunatly for him, the speed at which the bottle was going up the rectum was abit to slow for one person, who promtly gave the bottle a helping hand. The L/Cpl face was a picture,l dropped my beer and laughed my tits off! I remember later that evening him sitting in one of the loo's saying " thank god l'm not bleeding!".
The Next morning the camp was in sh1t state there was puke, piss, random NAAFI scoff all over the place and the L/Cpl walking like John Wayne with Nappy Rash.
 
#18
dutybooty said:
A reunion pissup involving myself and four other booties around Easter leave in a certain South Devon coastal town....dressed as barbie glamour dolls. Each member was dressed in a white and pink frock, pink flip flops, a lot of spray on glitter along with ancillaries, miscellaneous - pink sweatbands, pink hairbands, pink...I digress. Not wishing to be called a G3 snob, service support was deftly (in my opinion at least) handled in the form of a pink handbag each, containing combat wallet and phone. Also to be carried was a barbie glamour doll herself, and a barbie twistie straw through which all wets were to be consumed. First man to lose the straw gets reefed, the first to lose the doll gets a "swamp surprise". Anyway....
It was approximately 2100 by the town centre was graced with our presence. In all we made it to four bars (including double visits), no clubs allowed entry and the police attempted to hand out £80 fixed penalty notices on more than one occasion, before we really got going and it was noted that one of our number had lost his straw, and thus had to recieve a frock up, hotpants down reefing with each of our flip flops (and rubber bar mats)...in the middle of a bar that could not have been more anti-military if it had tried. Cue ejection.
After various other escapades involving somersaults through re-inflating bollards on traffic islands, attempted arrest for criminal damage for the afore mentioned, attempted arrest for attempting to bribe a police officer to release the member who committed "criminal damage"..etc, it was time to head for the jacket potato stand.
Here, unfortunately, a local loud mouthed bint who two of us happened to know from school many moons ago decided to launch into unprovoked verbal abuse. After repeated requests for her to "cease your incessant whining wench" things came to a head when it was realised one of us had lost our barbie glamour doll. Consequently, the swamp surprise was delivered and what had been a beautiful frock was ruined by a great deal of lime coloured staining. The loud mouthed bint was stil making a fuss, so it went down like a foreskin at a Bar Mitzvah when one of our number turned to face her, simply smirked and swamped himself. Over her shoes. The two blokes she was with did a runner, and i can only presume that she did not go home to be made airtight that night.
I was talking to a Booty the other day, asking him the best way to identify a possible Walt who was claiming to have been in the Corps.
Other than the obvious stuff of units, where served, under who etc. he finished off by fixing me with a stony glare, and said "Dress size. Every Booty worth 'is salt knows 'is dress size, unless 'es 42, and they'll just pour themselves into anything..."
 
#19
Got sprayed in the wedding tackle with pepper fog (OC) by a mate while urinating on his car. So well ratted I just laughed and turned to dribble the last few drops on his leg before keeling over and going to sleep in the ditch. Woke around 4am and managed to find my own vehicle in the carpark, crawled in and went back to sleep. Woke again around 7am in serious bloody pain. Raced home and spent the rest of the day in the shower trying to get rid of the burning sensation as the old feller thrashed around in agony. Flashbacks to the PF's daughters behind Ronnie's in Bloem and the exotic diseases that were freely distributed there, probably caught from their cousins...

Raw egg and oyster snorting, guaranteed to clear a Wimpy faster than rumours of Salmonella...
 
#20
bernoulli said:
I was talking to a Booty the other day, asking him the best way to identify a possible Walt who was claiming to have been in the Corps.
Other than the obvious stuff of units, where served, under who etc. he finished off by fixing me with a stony glare, and said "Dress size. Every Booty worth 'is salt knows 'is dress size, unless 'es 42, and they'll just pour themselves into anything..."
I'll believe that...out in a jungley place with 45 on exercise and they startled us by announcing they were having a "banyan" (naval for picnic style piss-up) and it would be fancy dress. Well we all did our best with what we had or could find but imagine our surprise when we turned up at their bashas and found fifteen immaculately turned out drag queens - complete with high heel shoes. One of them must have been a size 12 too. Strangely enough we didn't sample too freely of the beer they had choppered in and in the words of the NOW reporter "we made an excuse and left". As God is my witness...
 
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