Book-Project to help veterans in need.


I am re-posting this here on MOD advice and some of you may have seen it on another forum.
What is this about? Simple I am attempting to put together a book of funny stories from the military, the proceeds of which will go to benefit (ex)soldiers in need.
-See original post.
I am therefore asking you to contribute a funny story to be included in the project.

On the original forum, Current Affairs, the thread got buried very easily and lost visibility as people thought about it and then it dropped from view. Also there were questions raised about it and me which I hope I answer below.

The project is still live, I have a publisher interested, as well as Combat Stress, albeit tentatively.

Also I have The Chief Crisis Psychologist of the Catalan Generalitat (autonomous govt.) on board as we have been discussing the set-up of a contact line and a centre out here and he is willing to participate.

On Arrse there is a great willingness to help our comrades, as I saw on the Nimby threads recently, and we all have a story or three to tell, I would ask your help.

Here is the original post:

Fellow Arrsers,
I have recently noted lots of complaints on this site about the (mainly non-existent) help given to our returning veterans, and think I/we may be able to help a bit. Instead of moaning let’s set about helping each other, who better to do it? Taking into account the fact that if you put two British Soldiers together before long one will make the other laugh, I have come up with an idea.
Simply put I am asking you to contribute funny stories which I will then put together as a book, proceeds to be used to help veterans.
The book will be titled, 'Huh Bet Mine Doesn't Fit'. See below.

A comment from a fellow arrser: I’ll be honest with you, I like your idea and why not do it, there must be hundreds of thousands of stories out there waiting to be told, some humorous, some hilarious, some reflective and some more serious and I feel that they should be told if people are willing to tell them.

My initial idea was to set up a help-line/ centre manned by people who know, though it has been suggested that I set up a centre out here (Catalonia) to allow veterans to come and rest perhaps working with Combat Stress. It all depends on sales, if it doesn't take off then proceeds to Combat Stress, if it does then the idea can be expanded to include subscriptions and donations.
I am writing to Frederick Forsyth and Max Hastings who are squaddie friendly for help in publishers, if you have practical ideas on any aspect then let me know. If it works great, if not then I/we tried, I would prefer to try and fail rather than not do anything.

What am I looking for?
Well amusing stories that will make you laugh, from any situation; barracks, action, exercise, it doesn't matter. Past or present, stories from WW2, Borneo, Falklands, Iraq, Germany, Ireland, times in between, get a friend or relation to contribute.

Stories will be chosen on merit and put into relevant chapters.

Swearing will be tolerated though may be cleaned up a bit, if Spike Milligan can use the F word then so can we. Probably.

Stories may be edited slightly for spelling, grammar, and so on.

Names and units are not necessary but often preferable. If you don't mind them coming out then PM me or use my e-mail, you can also post them but PM your data. Otherwise you can retain anonymity though I may use your arrse name.

I will be contacting other sources, such as Legion magazine, if you have an idea tell me.

OK, I include a couple of ideas to give a taste, though I am still trying to work out if I should include the one about my brother accidentally crapping on the barrel of his smg.

The title comes from when I heard possibly the most intelligent comment ever made on the military.
Out in Germany on exercise we were in the final hours before endex, everything that was going to happen had done so, and nothing was going on. I got back to my Platoon HQ from Company HQ to see the Platoon HQ lads looking hugely depressed.
Quick, say something to raise morale, I thought. “ Cheer up lads, the OC has told me we are all getting issued with individual women”
The reply was instantaneous without changing expression.
“ Huh bet mine does’t fit.”

Secondly A Fusilier CSM told me this from when he was in West Berlin during the Cold War.
He was having a quiet beer in his house with his visiting brother-in-law when they got a surprise readiness alert, which regularly happened in those days. As he sprinted round getting his kit on his wife explained to her brother that this was in case Ivan came to pay a visit.
“ So what happens if it is real?” he asked.
“ Then I hang my knickers on the banister and go and lie on the bed” she said.
As The CSM went out the door cramming his helmet onto his head he heard the brother-in-law asking out loud
” Has anyone got any Vaseline?”

I have just noticed that mine both involve women/sex in some way, lets have some variety lads.

Some questions answered.

“Books like the one you intend to write are popular with the forces (see "Don't cry for me Sergeant Major" etc) and sell very well - hence my initial suspicious approach to what I saw as another bloody civvy out to make a quick buck on the back of the lads and lasses.” Quote.

A very important point raised here. I did wear DPM as an infanteer, though I have been out longer than most serving lads have been in.
I had the idea while going through Arrse and for once it seemed to me that I have the opportunity to make a difference and put back something, and if I don’t try then I will regret it all my life.

The idea came to me from ARRSE, and it seemed like a good start point as here is a large group of military men from diverse military backgrounds. However I am not simply sticking a post on here and waiting till I get a few stories, I am trying other sources and contacting other groups such as RBL and Associations, plus I am trying to contact old comrades. Futhermore I will be writing to units to try to set up visits for my next holidays. At the moment I am setting up some visits to members of my local branch of the RBL to share a few beers and reminiscences.

No story will be used except with express permission of the originator, I will not simply trawl through these pages and select the good stuff. I want to keep it above board and not rip-off stories without permission.

But just trawling through these pages is not a soft option, (though immediately accesssible), as it takes quite a bit of time to strike gold, as while a lot of stuff is amusing, taken out of context it makes no sense to the outsider, and there is a lot to go through. Then I have to contact the original writer who may or may not still visit here and get his OK.

So how much goes to the lads? Well as much as possible is the intention, however I do work, running a language centre out here, and will have to take expenses to cover costs or my missus will soon become an ex-missus.

I balk at giving percentages, because this depends on sales, but if my costs are say 10 then the percentage I take depends if the book sells 100, 200, or 300.

I freely acknowledge that while I am collating the stories the sources of the same come from a collective effort and from the experience of a number of people who are collaborating towards a common goal. This is why I am not looking to fund my retirement out of this book, as it is not mine, it belongs to all of us who help out, and to the lads it is designed to help.
I kicked over the idea with an ex-3PARA “Falklands vet before my original post and his comment was:
If you raise money along the way and the scheme of things collapse, you can deduct fair and reasonable disbursements and donate the rest to Combat Stress.

I intend to honour that.
Some replies received:

Dwarf, thanks for the PM.

It is 'Current Affairs' and I feel it is a very worthwhile idea.

So, happy with that and wish you the best of luck. I'll move it into a more appropriate forum once enough interest is shown.

You might consider posting this in Rum Ration and Rear Party to get the views from the other side of the fence?


I've put a link on RP.

A story that may or may not be true but did the rounds in the early eighties.

A Greenjacket is up on COs orders, found guilty and awarded 7 days pokey. As He hears the sentence the Greenjacket walks around to the COs side of the desk, looking under the desk and in the drawers.

Hauled back to the appropriate side of the room and asked what He was doing the young lad replied, "looking for justice because there's no sign of it over here.

The CO rejoined, "that will be 14 days, RSM march Him out"
This story has always made me smile though it may be rather tame by ARRSE standards;

My great grandfather Thomas Payne (Snr) was one of the soldiers aboard the Lancastria anchored just off the french coast on 17th June 1940 when it was hit by four bombs and sunk by the German Airforce. He was lucky in that he survived and in my eyes a hero as he saved a little girl from drowning allowing the girl's father to save the mother and not have to choose between the two.
Every year for some time my Grandfather Thomas Payne (Jnr) took my great grandfather to the annual re-union of the survivors of The Lancastria. As my great grandfather aged he started to become senile and got easily confused, one year when he was in his eighties my grandfather sat him down next to a gentleman of similar age at the re-union and over heard their conversation;

Old gentleman, "I was in WW2 you know"
Tom Payne (Snr), "Yes me too"
Old gentleman, "I was on The Lancastria when it sank"
Tom Payne (Snr), "Really! So was I what an amazing co-incedence!"

They went on to talk about the day neither of them realising the were at the survivors re-union.
Have you had a trawl through the Army Urban Myths thread?

Some brilliantly funny stories in there, you could ask the poster if they mind you using some of those?

If you find any of mine that you think are any good then go ahead and use them.
Ex Stab TA infantry, 1987. Yours Truly has left the Air Cadets and is doing recruit weekends at the TAC. Upon being told by the Recruit Platoon Sgt that there was no recruit training that weekend I asked if I could go on the training weekend that the trained soldiers were doing. "But you've got no kit lad. You can't do that in coveralls." says Sgt B.
"Well I have my own combats and webbing from when I was in cadets, can I wear those?"
"If you're that keen I'll have a word with Sgt K."

So having blagged my way onto this training weekend, there I am, latest issue combats, 58 webbing, craphat and Sgt K's helmet. (No sniggering!)
I knew how to work an SLR because we'd shot them in cadets of course. What I didn't know was anything at all about how a section attack is conducted or infantry work in general!

After a couple of Section Attacks I hadn't made a great impression.
"What was your assessment of the last attack?" asks Sgt K.
"Well one bloke isn't pulling his weight" replied Cpl. R, an ex regular.
"Don't worry about him, he'll learn in time" said Sgt K.

It must have been about this time that someone thought up the wheeze that was to follow:

The "enemy" for the day was Sgt. H. The youngest and by most reckoning' hardest Sergeant in the Battalion. He was 23 and made a great impression on all who met him. He certainly made a great impression on me that day!

The drill was that we would practice "searching the enemy dead" after the next attack. The usual drill (although it was all new to me on the day of course).
1) One man covers the enemy with rifle, one goes prone on top of enemy
2) Prone man, rolls enemy body to one side so rifle man can check for grenade or booby trap and say "Clear" or if not, "Grenade" etc. in which case prone man rolls enemy back down to to take the blast.

Easy, even I could do that! So I get down on top of Sgt H. and roll him to one side. "Clear" comes the word from my new oppo but he totally fails to mention that Sgt H. is clutcing a large combat knife to his chest.
So I go to get up when Sgt H. suddenly rolls over and points this large knife into my face with his left hand. Instinctively, I grabbed his left wrist with my left hand, pushing the knife away whilst punching him an almighty smack in the face. Dropping the knife he jumped to his feet and kicked me in the ribs, breaking a rib.

Needless to say, everyone else present is now falling around in stitches at the sight of the biter bit!

The final outcome was that Sgt H. found me later and quietly apologised for the kicking, admitting that I had just acted instinctively whilst he should have shown some more self-control. The ribs memded in time. What was much funnier though was that for some while later I had a rather undeserved reputation as the new hardman. "Watch him - he punched Bobby H."

Then there was Ginger who was working his ticket out of the Army ,by playing crazy and riding an invisible bike about camp.
On the day he was finally given a medical discharge, he walked past the Guard Room with his suit case in hand.
''Hey Ginger !," Shouted the Provost Sgt, "Where's your bike?"
'' I left it in there", replied Ginger," for some other daft cnut to ride out."

Signed on 37 years ago on Wednesday Sad so I suppose I could be called a veteran:

In 1970 in training at SEE Arborfield, we had a guy (can't remember his name but think it was Colin) who wandered about camp picking up bits of paper, turning them over, saying "That's not it" and putting them down again. Question
After months of this, he was taken into the CO's office where he was officially told that his services were "no longer required" and was handed his Discharge Book (AB 108). He looked at it and said "That's it" and skipped out the office, never to be seen again! Very Happy

Same era, same unit:
The training company were in rag order on parade when the CSM (Piggy Malone I believe) got to the edge of the square and bawled at the top of his voice "God, give me strength!". At this, 2 soldiers from the front rank took one pace smartly forward. The CSM came up in front of them and in a calm but loud voice enquired what the fuk they thought they were doing.
"We're the advance party from heaven, sir!" The whole parade, including the CSM, Sgts and Cpls burst out laughing.

That will do just now!

In the messes of the Royal Navy a tale is told that strikes terror in the saltiest sea dog.

Royal Navy submarines used to carry the Mk 24 Tigerfish torpedo - a vile abomination contrary to the laws of man and god. Despite strenuous efforts by all concerned, the initial batch proved to be the Sinclair C5 of weapon systems.

One of the main problems during initial sea trials occurred when the weapon lost contact with its target. In theory, it should have used sonar to look left, right, up and down to reacquire. In practice, early models ended up reversing course and attacking the submarine that had fired the weapon. The test torpedoes had dummy warheads but could still cause a lot of damage on colliding with a submarine.

To avoid any unpleasantness, the cunning devils at MoD fitted the torpedoes with a gyroscope and a substantial explosive charge to destroy the torpedo if its course altered by more than about 120 degrees. On first firing this new 'safe' torpedo, it promptly jammed in the tube.

The weapon engineers quickly determined that a spell in dry dock would be needed to get the torpedo out so the captain reversed course to head back to port and raise an opdef report.

The key phrase in the above paragraph is 'reversed course'. The still active self destruct in the jammed torpedo detected the course change and did what self destructs do best. The skipper quickly found himself commanding the only submarine in the fleet with an indoor swimming pool.



In 1981, a certain Jock Sgt (who shall remain nameless and blameless) was very friendly with one of the young wenches in a remote Scottish village. Embarassed
Knowing the guy as we all did in the Mess, we knew that this "purely platonic" relationship was a damn sight more physical than platonic. In fact, "very friendly" is nowhere near how bloody friendly he was with her!

Shocked Every morning, he would come in for breakfast looking like he'd just spent a night with Agnes the sheep (a good looker I can tell ewe! Don't knock it till you try it!)

Anyway, yer man comes in one particular morning white as the proverbial sheet. "Alec, (named changed) what the fuk's wrong" we asked. He replied saying that she had informed him the previous evening that the next day was going to be her birthday and he had total access to all areas for the night so to speak! Number One!

"But Alec, she must have given you a real good shagging then". Donut He agreed that he couldn't have asked or wished for a better night's entertainment. "So why are you looking like she sucked the blood out of you then?"

"Because she said that she'd be 15 the following day!"

How about some one-liners, many are classics.

I remember reading an obit of a General, have to dig it out, where he was riding past the band on some parade in India when his steed broke wind voluminously and noisily.
He adressed the Band.
" Sorry about that Drum-major."
" Quite all right sir, we all thought it was the horse."

Or the Spike Milligan one when an FOO is crawling shells onto some German tanks as they roll over a plain in N Africa.
Finally he strikes lucky.
"You've hit one" observed his ack.
"It wasn't the one I was aiming at" he replied.
I was with the SH Det in the Rezyat in Al Jubayl on the night that GW1 air war started and there was the story of a short-sighted RAF techie who was sharing a room with his mate when the air raid alarms went off.

In the pitch black, they both don their new rezzies as quick as they could, adjust the pad at the back, force out the air and give it the old "gas, gas, gas!." Within seconds, both of them detect a strange, sweet smell and they are both screaming at each other that neither of them can see properly!

Panic really sets in and their breathing becomes rapid and shallow in - one of them is about to go for his combo pen when the other realises the strange smell is that of new rubber from the rezzie and the reason his vision is completely blurred is because he's got his mate's resperator which is fitted with corrective lenses. Meanwhile, his Mr Magoo friend in the corner is wearing HIS regular one without the corrective lenses and is a blind as a bat.

Laugh - I think they soiled themselves.

Best of luck with your project and I hope it helps those who need it most.
From TCF

This happened when I was in an advance post in the jungle in Borneo, one of those where the only re-supply was by helicopter every few days. One of my boots gave way completely, and the old Wessex wasn’t due in for three days. So I spent three days hobbling around in flip-flops, not a pleasant experience.
When I got back I thought ‘never again’, so I got hold of a spare pair of boots, wrapped them in plastic and shoved them in the bottom of my pack. From then on whenever I made up my kit to go out, the first things I put into the bottom of my pack were those boots. Luckily I never needed them, and I carried them with me for sixteen years wherever I went.
Finally when my 22 were up I was cleaning out my kit and decided to look at those boots, ----two left boots!!

1972. RUC have started joint patrols with Redcaps. Patrol just south of Malone Road receives report that two armed civvies have been seen on bridge over railway line. All get out and dash along the path and over the bridge. The other side is a big field. RUC in lead and drops magazine. A tramp picks it up and holds it out to next in line - a Redcap. "This is your". Milplod sees metal, hears what was said, evaluates threat and shoots tramp. All others in patrol go to ground.
On one edge of field is a sholl used by UDR as base. Sentry hears shots and sees men go to ground in long grass. He opens fire and the guard turn out to assist. Some of the rounds pass near a infantry base and they return fire. The cross fire over heads of joint plod goes on for some while until someone realises what is happening and someone else does something as result of radio reports from plods.
As a result of the shooting, one of my sybill sgts goes to the UDR place. Tells them who he is and what he is there for. Speaks to Duty Officer and asks to see those who fired. Declined permission so NCO asks to speak to UDR CO. Is given a number to phone and shown to phone in area outside Ops Room. Calls the number. Says his piece. Some discussion follows and Sgt gets an idea. Lays phone down and goes back to Ops Room. There is DO talking down a phone saying "Hello. Are you There? Hello" The UDR had given him the number of their own Ops Room. Large rollicking from my guy and statements flow like water. As there was an aggro, I had a team at our own Ops Room. The bloke who went to the school had to tell each new arrival about the whole incident. As we heard it again and again, it got funnier and funnier.
Old Salt
As a STAB officer, I was feeling particularly hard and pleased with myself, but once got pinged for a business 'team building' meeting away from home. The 'entertainment' for the evening was a murder mystery, with actors joining the group and revealing all the clues, people meeting unsavoury ends in corridors and so on.

I was too superior to take part, so hung around on the fringes getting quietly steaming. As the dinner drew to a close, I looked up to see a man pull a pistol from his pocket and start to move towards the stage. Like the trained killer that I thought I was, I jumped up and pulled it off him, pushed him down and looked around to see horrified faces and all the actors hissing, "Let him go, you're ruining the finale!". I retreated deeper into the brandy bottle and left them to it....

Here is link to a good one by a Yank.
Here is one from a RAF gent received via e-mail.

"Guy Fawkes Night at RAF Seletar (1960)
After a hard days work on the squadron, a meal, a shower and a pint (or three) of duty free it seemed quite sensible for us "hard working single airmen" to repair to the "Bonfire" which was situated on some waste ground at the far end of RAF Seletar. This we duly did and stared incredulously at a mighty mound of typical RAF junk piled high into the balmy Singaporean sky, it consisted of the normal broken packing cases, furniture etc., But what caught our eyes was the sheer quantity of large (very large) thick cardboard tubes, these had previously been used to transport aircraft safety equipment, and were so vast in number that the bonfire resembled an enormous Egyptian Pyramid. After a few "fireworks" (well they weren't proper fireworks, just aircraft distress flares and rockets,), the O.I/C announced on a loudspeaker "And now Ladies & Gentlemen, boys and girls, Flight Sergeant ******* from the fire section will LIGHT THE BONFIRE!! An expectant hush fell over the crowd as gallons and gallons of "Scrap" aviation fuel, thinners and Lord knows what in the way of inflammable liquid was poured onto this mighty pyre...Then.... into view marched THE FLIGHT SERGEANT, a short corpulent figure of a man, clad in natty blue dungarees, a world war two white painted tin hat with a flap of material on the back "a la Beu Geste", swinging his arms shoulder high, proud as punch his gum booted feet tripping slightly on the tufted grass, he came to a crashing halt about twenty yards from the bonfire. Then withdrawing a Very Pistol from his belt, he elegantly broke it and popped in a cartridge............We waited..........he fired...........the flare described an arc and hit the bonfire dead centre......................Well remember those cardboard tubes ???????? Some one had forgotten to knock out the ends; soaked in fuel they had become bombs !!!!! BOOOOOOOOOOOM !!!!! The bonfire lifted twenty feet off the ground and deposited itself in about eight different positions, all still burning like a good un...That was it, everybody left leaving the Flight Sergeant standing there with his mouth open..... Well nobody was hurt thank Heavens but the scaleys brats (married personnel’s children) didnâ’t half howl !!!! We (the single blokes) couldn't help chuckling as we left to get to the Malcolm Club for another pint or two and a toast tomato banjo.. I wonder what the Officer i/c RAF Seletar fire section said to his blokes? Come to that, what did the Camp Commandant say to the Officer i/c? ,,,,,,,who cares ! Happy Days !!

You might like to contact this chap who may have something that he is not publishing A Tankies Tale
That's gonna be an absolutely mammoth task. Since I earn my living with languages, I'd certainly volunteer to become part of a team scouring the threads for likely material, cleaning it up grammatically (should that be necessary) and arranging it syntactically so that it reads well.

There would probably be a need for at least about a half-dozen bods on this, divvying up the thread pages between them and getting in touch with the original authors to make sure they agree to publication.

I reckon it's a fückin' marvellous idea and well done to the creators.

More replies received:

Aunty Stella
Was flicking through some photos tonight and a few of the old faces reminded me of a couple of killer comeback lines.

Rab Th***son, SSM at Soest 91 -92 time, ripping the shite out of a guy from 7 Armd workshops for having a complete bonehead (as in no hair) haircut after the Garrison Commander had banned them. Lays into him for a good 3 or 4 minutes outside the NAAFI in front of amused AAC bods before finally screaming at him "So whats your fcuking excuse?"

"I've got Leukemia" Stunned silence, aplogetic SSM, troops fcuking pissing themselves

NI 1990, Maj Drennan burst into crewshack in an out of character bad mood

"Who's in fcuking charge here"

Groundcrew, in unison "You are Sir", silence, about turn, walks outside no longer in a bad mood.


Oi/c Barrack Block carrying out inspection after bull night is poking around in the gravel outside the block.
'What are you looking for sir?' asks the Sgt.
'Cigarette ends' says the officer.
'Don't worry sir, have one of mine!'

In the 70's, at RAF Halton the joint service physio school students and med trainees shared accom in Shepherd block which had a naval officer in charge. This Lt was very picky and had no sense of humour, though he made us laugh by going on about cabins, heads, bulkheads and dockyard workers. I remember him going ballistic about finding the back door locked when he came to inspect. An army student explained, with straight face, that this was to prevent the ingress of water which could result in the sinking of HMS Shepherd! Cap'n Birdseye charged him, though it was later dropped.

Friday morning parade . SSM warns everybody about mondays inspection parade.

SSM - "Everybody WILL have a haircut - or on your own head be it"

Nobby- "it will be Sir !"

SSM - Lock him away!!!!!

In the early day's of the war on Iraq,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

A US army foot-patrol was deployed and they had been given an area to cover off they went! The sound of a helicopter was getting closer, closer, closer apparently a few shots had been fired at the helicopter by the US fella's so the British Chinook Pilot managed to make out the US guy's on the ground so he landed his helicopter got out and walked over to the guy's (who's the CDR) I am BROKE HIS NOSE just one thing! how many Iraqi helicopter's have you seen since you'v been out here?

TOP MAN!!!!!!!!!

Day 1 week 1....


Sarge...sarge there's only two types of sarge.....sausarge and massarge and I'm f**king neither.'

Sgt Maj Bob ********** You should have been in my office half an hour ago!!!!!!!!!

Pte Chris ******** er.....why, what happened
Old Salt

Mid '80's on the Falkland Islands.

An RAF officer is balling out a young siggie.

RAF offr 'Don't you salute RAF officers in the Army then?'

Siggie 'We don't have RAF officers in the Army sir!' (RAF rodneys chin hits floor, thus allowing the siggie to make his escape!)

Saif Sarrea 2 - SSM has just finished briefing the Sqn on routine in the newly acquired patch of desert called home

SSM - 'Does anyone have any questions?

Cheeky Cpl - 'Yes sir. Why do men have nipples!' (SSM looks stunned, then joins in the laughter)

Moderator (ADC,MIA)

A Pal of mine was talked into giving me a ride in his shiney bright yellow Lamborghinin diablo

When we pulled up at lights, window down, a scrote looked over and said "Nice motor, dont think much to the colour'

Response to scrote "why what colour is your diablo?" Very Happy

He looked at his D reg Escort and looked crest fallen.........
Peter Sutcliffes Disciple

Walking through Munster in civvies in 1989 when this bearded student type came up and shouted Go Home - Gorbachov come we don't need you any more.

My chum, not usually noted for wit, explained that we were not in Germany to protect the Germans from the Russians but to protect the Russians from the Germans.

One very silent boxhead pissed off to feel guilty somewhere.

when in a German supermarket, I observed a stressed out soldiers wife smacking her child for some bad behavior.
When up walked this posh looking German woman who promptly said that in Germany we do not smack our children.
To which the rather stressed out looking woman replied, oh really ! well in scotland we don't gas our f***ing jews either!
The German bint's jaw dropped and promptly stormed away!

Once on a RSM's parade the RSM says to a young lad "I dont think those boots are good enough"
The youth looks down then replies "I do sir, thats why there my best boots"
"get away.. eifth eight eifth eight...." And to the guard room he went.

Friend of mine was inspecting the block of his brand new platoon not long after a particularly nasty rape case (yes, it was the Parachute Regt - remember the case of 'The Big 'Un', as the Sun labelled her?) and he was giving them a bollocking about the state of the floors. He yelled "Have you lot never heard of brooms? Show me the bloody brooms!" which came the reply, "Can't Sir, they've been taken away for forensic evidence..............."


a Ta exercise a plt failing to break into a fibua house an officer runs up shuts abuse and "your mucking up the entire battle plan what have you got to say for your self " private looks puzzled "our battles are planned sir ?"
Old Salt

Split 1993 - REME ES COY

All junior ranks have eaten and now it is the turn of the SNCOs and Officers. SNCOs and Officers use the few tables closest to the hotplate.

In walks 2IC of the guard LCpl Steve C***ve. LCpl grabs his meal and goes and sits at a table the other end of the cookhouse on his own.

CSM Eddie B***r ' I see you're say with your friends Cpl Cl***e'

Immediate reply ' No Sir I'm sat with yours'.


Paderborn mid 80's. QLR Corporal is driving round town in uniform on a hybrid creation with motorbike chopper handlebars and two rear wheels. Stops at traffic lights and Brigade Commander's car draws up alongside. Scott Grant opens window and enquires:

"Why aren't you wearing a helmet?"

"Because my vehicle is technically classified as a car and therefore I don't need one."

"In that case get your beret on!"

[Background: RN Cooks were retitled "Chefs" (ha!) in 1995....]

Passing out parade at HMS RALEIGH, the New Entry training establishment, in 1996 where a platoon of baby Chefs are being accompanied by a hairy-arrsed Leading Chef. Up marches random inspecting Admiral to the Leading Chef, after having inspected the men....

"Excellent turnout young man, and how long have you been a Chef?"
"I'm a Cook Sir"
"No, I think you'll find you're now a Chef"
"Beg pardon Sir, but I'm a Cook".
"NO, I SIGNED THE BL00DY ORDER, YOU'RE A CHEF. I'll ask you again - how long have you been a Chef?"
"10 seconds Sir"
Back in the mid 80's,I was a fresh faced SAC in the Armaments trade in the RAF.We had just finished excercise & left the Armory,heading up towards the main gate where we would all go our seperate ways home.
Anyway,we were all still in NBC kit,following our Sargeant, Joe P up the hill.As we passed a group of other similary dressed men going downhill,one of them turned & addressed Joe
"Sargent,Don't you salute officers?"
"Sorry Sir,I did'nt know you are a officer" replied Joe,saluting.
"But" replied the officer,"I'm wearing a shoulder holster!Only Aircrew OFFICERS wear shoulder holsters!"
"Well Sir,So does James Bond......And I don't salute him!" replied Joe,turning & walking away,leaving the said officer gobsmacked & his cohorts reeling with laughter!
Submitted by DH.

Unit has night off in an unfamiliar setting.
'Sarge, you know this town don't you?'
'Yes I do, what do you want to know?'
'Where's the best place to find a woman?'
'On the end of your cock son.'
Submitted by RLM, ex-RE.
A story for your collection. When I was in NI with XX Sqdn we held, amongst everything else, 200 lifejackets for amphibious ops on Loch Neigh. These had emergency lights with sealed batteries and had a shelf life.
One day I went into the Sqdn bar and saw most of Plant Troop sitting round a table on plastic chairs. They were drinking. Each man had one of the emergency lights tied to the top of his head. Every so often one of the troop would go and get 30 odd beers and bring them back to the table. This went on for some time until there was a great cheer.
We looked round and one of the troop went to the bar to get the beers. His light was illuminated. Shortly after this was repeated with another light illuminating.
It was only then that we realised what they were doing. The batteries went inside the trousers. They work when wet. Apart from the Sapper being sent to the buy the beer nobody was allowed to leave the table. When bladder control failed the light illuminated and the culprit bought the round.
Plant Troop. Don’t you just love them.
I’m glad they used plastic chairs, - we bleached them later. After that I always stood at the bar.

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