Celebrity bezzers....

Spurred on by the hilarious and little known social comments, and bezzering behaviour by B.A. (mister T) Baracus, as exposed by convoy and the rigger here


i have been inspired to ask the question....

how would other well known TV stars and minor celebrities handle this well known squaddie phenomenon?

A typical example could be this....

instead of "celebrity fat club" they should have celebrity bezzering club, where 8 well known celebrities who have become morbidly serious are taken on the all dayer. NOT by a homosexual coloured septic of dubious militairy nature, but by a 22 year Lance jack with fingers the colour of dog sh1t from smoking an ounce of old holborn a week skin the colour of a potato from working in the bedding store, and a serious penchance for an early drink to "shed those inhibitions" and really see all that self respect just drop off over the course of the series.

can you imagine the scenes as two teams of po faced cnuts led by like Jeremy paxman and Hugh Grant are given a humiliating insight about how uptight they are, and how they need to let go of their selfish needs (and their bladder control) and release the inner bezzer that is in us all...

once a week, they are subjected to the ritual of the "bezzer in" where they stand in the spotlight, and confess to acts of same sex hugging, and declarations of stopping harm to others by taking a round for them if necessary.

Grant is first into the spotlight, and to start he seems his normal, uptight foppish posh stuttering w@nky self, but as the week progresses, we see the tears flow as he "hits the bezzering wall" and declares to our sage and wise, hard bitten by years of abuse in the RQMS tom, that ...

"I bl00dy love you mate.... i really bloody well do, you're an absolutely super chap, i want you to come on leave with me and meet my mum, but if you try and sh@g her, i'll f uckin cut ya!"

his target set for next week is to lose two fights.... started by him.

Next up is Giles brandreth, we see him descend from amiable grinning bad jumper wearing closet bound fool to screaming the name of a team mate, through a mask of pain and love and offering his last fag and a swig of his beer for his "newest and bestest blood brother for life" just before making the most of an innoffensive comment and launching an errol "bomber" graham right hook that misses its intended target by several feet and instead connects with the jaw of a startled Kate Adie.

his target next week.... is to double leg....... in public.

it is commented on that he may be "crash bezzering" and this could be detrimental to his health and long term well being, so is to stick to "really liking people" for a week or two....

any more for any more folks ?????
shortfuse said:
his target set for next week is to lose two fights.... started by him.

No, that is not the sound of a singing GS shovel echoeing from a greenjackets thread, that is my salute to genius reverberating though the Colonel Gadaffi.

I can see all the celebs standing around at the start of the first night of their training, nobody is mixing as they are all tied up in their own self importance.
But as the evening progresses a flipant comment made by Judith Hann (who has never served in an Armoured Div) about Panzers being a waste of time and 'Just 20 tonnes of dermititus', sends Jonathan Dimbleby into a hugely disproportionate rage. The glasses fly, and Judith Hann cowers away, until her oppos get between her and Dimbleby. Once safe in the knowledge that she will come to no harm, Hann puts on the psycho eyes, then pretends to try and climb over her mates whilst screaming, "I'll fcuking 'ave you, Dimbleby, you cnut!"
Ever the mediator, John Major steps in between the factions and demands that the two main protagonists make up. During an emotionally charged speech by the former PM, where he points out that one day Dimbleby may have to depend on Hann to save his ass in a firefight in Bos' or even in a ruck outside the Cafe Vichtig in Herford, and Vice Versa, Judith Hann breaks down, grabs Dimbleby in a headlock, and declares that he is actually her brother.

Judith Hann's target for next week is to ruin her big Tomorrow's World comeback gig, by getting Harry Tankers, jumping her taxi to the BBC centre, rocking up late and to come pin balling on to the live set of the news at six and start spitting at Fiona Bruce.
You can imagine a panel of the best bezzers money can buy sitting in judgement.

Lance Corporal Herbie Doorjam, Royal Engineers - Married 6 times to women of gradually decreasing age and gradually increasing gingerness. 83 years working in the blanket stores in Donnington. Diagnosed with an alcohol problem at the age of 8. 3 Div bezzering champion 83-94 inclusive.

Private Eggy Hambleton, Royal Pioneer Corps - Has done two on two off on the gate at Ash Ranges permanently since 1974. Combined services bezzering champion 1978, when he defeated Stoker Willy Payton, Royal Navy in the now famous 'Headlock Deadlock' bezzer off.

Sig Smiley Harbottle, Royal Signals - In a 22 year career, spanning 8 postings, Sig Harbottle has not been asked to complete a task involving any sort of responsibility whatsoever. On his first day out of training he was asked to tidy his bedspace. The resulting fire caused damage to the tune of £286,000. His subsequent line managers have sought to remove any potential, responsibility flashpoints from Harbottle's path ever since. The four years of his last posting were spent in an MFO box with some pen holes in it, on the top shelf of the Q stores in Rheindahlen. Despite his captivity, Harbottle still managed to be billed for seven mattresses and a top box.

Smiley's the nice guy, with Eggy offering compassionate advice and Herbie giving it the bad cop routine.

David Attenborough is feeling good about himself. Despite being considered a rank outsider, he's took to bezzering like a duck to water. Prior to the competition his alcohol consumption consisted entirely of a single glass of Bailey's every Christmas Eve. Only one hour in to the first session, after being force fed 6 pints of Creme de Menthe, Attenborough started on an RAF dog handler, with the opening shot of,

"What the fcuk do you know about dogs, you fat fcuking gimp?"

In the subsequent punch up, Attenborough was the only person in a pub of 85 patrons to report no physical damage. He also managed to regurgitate a hastily consumed Melton Mowbray pie into the coin slot of the juke box. The dog in question received 3 crushed neck vertebrae from Attenboroughs overenthusiastic attempt to befriend it. When he was finally ejected from the pub, he wailed like a banshee. As they tried to push him out the front door, Attenborough held on to the frame so tight, that the landlord had to bash his individual fingers with a ball pein hammer to get him to let go. With a cry of "I'm coming fcuking back, and i'm bringing our Dickie with us," he fled into the night. Attenborough had no recollection of these events

Having been tasked with "Simply getting drunk and having a wee in the corner," Attenborough was deemed to have completely exceeded all expectations and was justifiably proud of himself.

Both Smiley and Eggy were congratulatory in tone, leaving it to Herbie to try and rein in the world famous naturalist turned bezzer.

"Well done, David. You think you've cracked the bezzering lark now, do you?"

"Well, Herbie, i'm quite pleased. I feel i've done rather well for my first attempt."

"Ooooohhh, lar-de-fcuking-dar. Listen to me - i'm Lord Attenborough and I think I can muscle in on Herbie's game without a by-your-leave."

"B..bb...ut Herbie, I mean no offence. Of course, I still have a lot to learn."

"Too right, you gorillas-arrse sniffing c-unt. That bezzer you did the other night was beginners luck. Let's see if you can do it again."


"David, your task for this week, is to get tanked up and go to the line-shack at 11 Signal Regiment. There, whilst doing a winky-wanky walk with the top of a Newky Brown bottle up your arrse, you will tell the line sergeant, that all the drums are in sh-it state and that you could take him and his mates with one arm tied behind your back."
Oh dear lord and father of mankind! I am PMSL here and sadly cannot even hope to begin to try to make a poor fist of explaining why to Jackie our book-keeper!! Yet bizarrely when she goes off with the girls, including Mrs Cuddles, on their annual golfing holiday without golf - she is Mrs Headlock despite standing 4"11 3/4 naked. Yes, I know I could have said in her stockinged feet but the idea of her naked is much more fun!
convoy_cock said:
You can imagine a panel of the best bezzers money can buy sitting in judgement.

Lance Corporal Herbie Doorjam, Royal Engineers - Married 6 times to women of gradually decreasing age and gradually increasing gingerness. 83 years working in the blanket stores in Donnington. Diagnosed with an alcohol problem at the age of 8. 3 Div bezzering champion 83-94 inclusive.
I believe Herbie was the sole survivor of 'The great blanket avalanche of '76'. He was trapped under 3000GS blankets, on his back for a fortnight and survived only by urinating in his own mouth. When asked about his ordeal, Herbie was under the impression that the only thing that was out of the ordinary was the darkness thus he only thought that a light bulb had blown.

Back to the competition.

On the second night, a practical joke goes wrong, when Trevor McDonald, Brian Sewell and Donald Sinden decide to 'BumFace' Pam Ayers with the old three man lift trick.
Once Trev's ricker starts to bare down on her boat race, Pam realises what's going on, goes nuts, breaks free from Brian and Donald's combined grip and swings a haymaker at Trev. With a cry of "Ere you dirdy old baassterd" in her best west country lilt, she misses and does three spins before regaining some stability.
Big Trev McDonut decides to fight back but with his strides round his ankles he looks like an enraged emporer penguin. Fortunately Pam is also a spent force, after knocking back too much west country scrumpy, with dead wasps and rat sh1t floating in it.
They embrace emotionally after realising the futility of their conflict. Trev double legs and Pam celebrates with a bawdy poem that requires a last word to rhyme with 'Bucket'. But she finishes off with a wink to camera instead, all the while remaining completely oblivious to Brian Sewell doming her pint glass and Don Sinden wiping his ricker on her massive Laura Ashley flowery dress.

Edited to include-
Convoy- I believe that when Herbie berated Dave Attenborough, he actually interupted him with a rendition of "Meet the gang cos the boys are here, the boys to entertain you!"
the_rigger said:
Don Sinden wiping his ricker on her massive Laura Ashley flowery dress.
(Cuddles downs pint, rears to feet drunkenly) "You fuggin bsad, Donny Sinden was my bezzer an he's fcukin dead but you're not fit to tie his shoes, you bsad!"

Fast forward to Rigger and Cuddles crouched, hard-targetting under NAAFI pool table, sipping Cheddar Valley.

"Riggsy, you're the best mate I ever had but if you talk about Donny..Donal, that sod Sinden again, I'll chew your ear off...mucker"

"I fcukin love you Cuddles..." ad nausea
Kirsten Scott Thomas after showing some early and frankly surprising form in the in “Windmill fighting and gobbing off” challenge is looking at getting thrown off the Show bif she doesn’t buck up..

Eggy Hambleton is tasked with giving her some advice, obviously the only place to take or receive advice is the Naafi and that’s where we pick them up, Eggy - true to his nickname has the distinctive “eggy” stains down his shirts from trying to mop off Kirsten’s recently delivered puke with a beermat, his eyes are carrying out independent action and he appears to be at 45 degrees to the floor, chair and ceiling all at the same time.

“Y’kno that – y’kno that, ah bolloxs, y’no ah’m not shittin ya right, an I reckon at y’ll be feckin great – this next challenge, feckin cnuts!”

Kirsten the archetypal English Rose has lost some of her demure over the course of the last few weeks and her head is lying in the overflowing ashtray on table, her new tat glowing red against her pearly white skin

“Your RIGHT CNUT YOU Eggy” she gurgles “Feckin good bloke “

At this Eggy stands up legs spread, eyes staring wildly and points at the star of the “English Patient”

“YOU SEE this feckin woman, list’n to me you feckers, this w’,ans a better feckin man an ME!”

Kirsten rouses from her table “Eggy – an’ I’m not joking you’re like me Brother, you feckin cnut.

Eggy and Kirsten then proceed to play glass hockey with five pint pots and the yard brush from the tank sheds, Kirsten is lasts seen having her fingernails taken out of the neck of the guard commander sent to sort out “That pissed up pair of cnuts in the Naafi”
Does anyone have any genuine celebrity bezzer tales?

An old colleague of mine claims to have once bezzered Quentin Tarantino, in a pub in Highgate, "before he was famous."

The two teams of potential bezzers, under the watchful eyes of their "bezzering instructor" are taken to task with some lapses in bezzering protocol, and set against each other in the gruelling test that is the

"build a pyramid of cans drunk only by people at your table and defend it with your lives to the detriment of all others" marathon..

Hugh Grants team get off to a flying start, despite an early drawback when its noticed that Adie has been ordering f ucking strongbow KNOWING that the can size makes it incompatible with the pyramids construction... but after a minor chastisement from Judith hann resulting in a cigarette burn and burst capillaries in one eye they are soon up to "level three" and look to be streaking ahead.

Over on Paxmans table, wedged between the vendors and juke box there is dissent n the ranks.
Attenborough, flushed from the success of the first show he has been trying to usurp Paxman as team leader, by constantly butting in in a high pitched voice with the punchlines of all his jokes, and in the resulting melee, had his head stuffed through the vendors by Major, who then upended the table with the first two all important "base layers" being scattered all over the floor.
Team spirit is soon regained however as upon removing himself from the revolving scotch pie and beans dispenser, Attenborough declares
"I f ucking deserved that mate... you were well within your rights, I dont deserve mates like you"
He is then saved from a botched and amateur suicide attempt by his team, who then all surround him in a group hug... whilst standing in the puddle of p1ss forming around his feet.

Back over on Grants table although still a few levels ahead disaster was narrowly averted when Trevor macdonald started on a completely innocent bystander for
"being a f ucking hat c unt"
and in the scuffle that followed the team nearly destroyed the pyramid climbing over each other to give the hapless lad a shoeing.

At this point, as the dust was settling, and like a harbinger of doom, a lone can of Mcewans red whistles through the air from somewhere near the vendors, catching the light as it turns in the cigarette smoke laden atmosphere it clips Grant and Co's pyramid, dislodging a can from level 5 and catching Sinden full in the top lip.

Paxmans team have resorted to spoiling tactics, and the cat calling begins... the team leader at the forefront.

"nnnnyyeeeeeeees......Call that a f ucking pyramid... i put it to you that it's a f ucking pile of w@nk"

The can of Red is returned by a fuming Sinden, barely being restrained by the whole of his team, and more incandescent with rage than he EVER got with Windsor Davies in "never the Twain" he froths and gnashes from his jowls and in those distinctive thespian tones declares

"F ucking do that again and i'll tear your f ucking heads of you gang of f ucking REMF's"

in the next instant he is felled by a full can of fosters between the eyes and takes no further part in the battle.

On the next episode, we see various injuries manifesting themselves, but when asked by the DS what happened the teams show how far they have come by staying sctumm and getting 10 extras each for their trouble.
smithie said:
Does anyone have any genuine celebrity bezzer tales?

An old colleague of mine claims to have once bezzered Quentin Tarantino, in a pub in Highgate, "before he was famous."

I think you'll find that, with some justification, most of the RN can claimnm to be bezzers with the late, great and lamented Oliver Reed.
To my eternal shame,I once was bezzered by the "legendary Chris Ryan". Wouldn't be such a tool if every subject of conversation didn't start with"When I was in Iraq...."
.. And let the piss taking begin....
The feud between Hugh Grant and Paxman is casting a long shadow over the series. In an unguarded moment when he thought he was off camera Hugh is heard conspiring with Judith Hann that he knew some “tasty lads from Scunthorpe” who were going to give “Paxman the good news – BIG Style”

When faced with the evidence Grant preferred to say nothing and deny all knowledge – his stonewalling goes on when the overwhelming evidence is presented. Hann is marched in and sings like a canary, Grant ends up marking time in front of the guard room (Cpl Smiths recently acquired neck wounds from a pissed up Kirsten Scott Thomas proudly on display) wombat shell on his shoulder, tin hat (no comforter) on his head and laces out of his boots, he is in shit state. Paxman’s team are warned off by the Bezzering instructors to stay away.

In true Bezzer style Hann is next seen stripped bolloxy naked and plasticuffed to a bare spring issue bed whilst Kate Adie administers the regimental bath via using the yard brush recently used in pint pot hockey and Vim.

“That’ll teach you - you ratty little cow! Grants one of us!”

She raises the brush above her head and is about to bring it down Funfair style on the weeping Hann when Kirsten Scott Thomas pulls her away shouting

“She’s not f ucking worth it – leave it mate, leave it!”

“Fecking gonna kill er” can be heard echoing from the block as Han is led away

“what have I done” she weeps to camera “Hugh smacked out that punchy b astard McDonald for me in the chippy last night - what have I done?”
Back at the celebrity bezzering studio, hosts Ant and Dec have formed a queue for a kebab. Psychological expert and long time bezzering champion of 29 Cdo's officers' mess, Hugh McManners, is suddenly going off on one with his co-pundit Vince Bramley of the Parachuite Regt.

Claims that "Falklands commando isn't fit to wipe your arse on" and "Excursion to hell" is fcuking more ace than your sh1tey tome" lead to windmilling. Sadly twenty years of civilian life-style and the contents of Ant and dec's cooler reduce the physical impact of the pundits' brawling. Suddenly the ex-gunner breaks down in tears and is promptly bezzered by the green-eyed one, who turns to a concerned Ant & Dec to inform them to "piss off you fcukin civvy tarts, you'r' not fit to read the fly-jacket on either book. Go on and get out off of it."

McManners recovers in time to drop Partlane and suddenly blue lights can be seen through the windows of the Celebrity Bezzer studio. Swiftly the two Falkland vets make a brave effort to escape but this is hampered by the para-man's need to stop, vomit copiously and then fall asleep in the alcoholic foetal position...
Hugh Grant’s done his time and his release provides a great opportunity for the next challenge.

The 500m past the Guardhouse whilst lashed being chased by the taxi driver sprint.

Hughs team are first up and soon their min cab can be seen riding low on its axles with the combined weight of seven of them wedged into it.

“Come on Ali out your fecking foot down” and
“gerrof my balls you fag”

Can be heard above the engines whine

The taxi draws up to the gate , 100m beyond, through the slalom is the barrier manned for the night by Paxman’s “section”

All hell breaks loose as two of the four doors burst open, Hugh catches his shoe laces the bonnet release catch and touches down chin first, clartet, snot and teeth spill over the tarmac “B’stard” mouths the plucky but heavily pissed Quintessential Englishmen. Behind him Scott Thomas and Hann are off and moving

“Poke it Rag head!” they shout at the Taxi driver as he hauls his 16 stone burger enhanced arrse out of his seat and starts to give chase.

Behind them Grant is staggering to his feet whilst his new found Bezzer Bamber Gascoigne (recently parachuted in to raise the tone) helps him up

“Funny as f uck that were mate” congratulates the brainy boffin

“my fuffing teef urt lik fuffing hull” complains Grant.

As Scott Thomas and Hann court shoes clicking in the night air come level with the barrier McDonald steps forward

“Right you two” he shouts as the run straight passed him “what y’ gonna do Shoot us “ they goad the greying newsman

As Ali remonstrates with Mcdonald about who will pay his fare and the “soiling” charge “you should see what they left in the back!” the taxi engine can be heard behind them………….
shortfuse said:
The can of Red is returned by a fuming Sinden, barely being restrained by the whole of his team, and more incandescent with rage than he EVER got with Windsor Davies in "never the Twain" he froths and gnashes from his jowls and in those distinctive thespian tones declares

"F ucking do that again and i'll tear your f ucking heads of you gang of f ucking REMF's"

in the next instant he is felled by a full can of fosters between the eyes and takes no further part in the battle.

On the next episode, we see various injuries manifesting themselves, but when asked by the DS what happened the teams show how far they have come by staying sctumm and getting 10 extras each for their trouble.
Unfortunately, Sinden's still out for the count and has been in the MRS for the last 3 days. All the team visit him on the pretence of seeing how their man's doing but really there to check out the nurses. Trevor McDonald's got his eye on the fat gwar 'cause she's a sure fire catch.

"ahh lads, I'm fcuking sorry, I've let you all down. what are you gonna do without us?" says Sinden

Brian Seewel replies. "Don't worry mucker, we've got Sarah Beeny from Property Ladder in. She's a bit of NIG like, but we'll start her off on with Kate Adie. We wuz thinkin' that Beeny could start with a patronising, condescending speech about not maximising her potential or the fact that Adie probably hasn't got a big enough en-suite for an old bint would probably get her swinging. Her task will be to maximise the potential of the violence and then see how quickly she can turn it round to a full on bezzering session. Cue Aide: 'yer fecking great you are Beeny, yer a stuck up cow but I love ya.' "

Herbie Doorjam, who accompanied them to the MRS doesn't agree. He thinks that some sort of "my rack's bigger than yours" argument might generate a faster scrap. The bezzers agree that this is more in keeping with the general trend which has been set.

With that they assure Sinden that his splace on the team is safe and that Beeny can "Feck off" once he's better as he's their real bezzer and they all trudge back to their accomodation to get in some last minute slagging off and spewing practice before going out. On the way they discuss how they don't want Sinden back on the team and would rather have that beeny chick any day. They all agree to play one side off against the other until they can't do it any longer and hope the situation sorts itself out 'by magic'..........
The cookhouse crew have long been the subject of abuse from both syndicates. After a pay-per-dine fiasco a la St Omer Barracks, both teams are introduced to the NAAFI for their customary daily dozen pints, under the watchful eye of resident PTI Staff Gopping. Gopping, an average athlete and less than average human being, generally warms up by lamenting his lack of Army colours for any sport at all. He then moves on to the bastard QMSI who did him down at the WO's board and ends up slagging off the entire warranted and commissioned staff of the APTC.

The syndicates try and keep up but they are a long way adrift of Gopping, who has started to cry into his lager. Suddenly there is a kerfuffle by the door as five chef's-white clad individuals enter. It is five celebrity chefs, including rubber faced gurner Jamie Oliver, half man half dwarf Wozza and Ainsley "He must be gay surely??" H. Suddenly Oliver stops and turns to Grant's team. "What do you mean the sausage toads were cold? Do you know how hard it is to fcukin cook for three hundred blokes? You tossers..." It kicks off.

Many drinks and beatings later the celebrity bezzers have seen off the celebrity chefs - who to a man go sick, thereby condemning the bezzers to cold cornflakes and no greasy fry to calm their hangovers.

(Note: this actually happened at Warcop in the mid eighties when the regimental chefs fought a gallant battle in honour of their sketchy culinary skills against the gun bunnies but in the face of overwhelming odds. We shall remember them...)
Big Trevor McDonald and Jeremy “the paxinator” Paxman are chosen for the next challenge “The pissed entry to the night club free style”. Dressed in issue 15 year old silver shadows, stone washed jeans with matching maps of Africa and Bosnia 94 tour t shirt the to contestants well refreshed must gain entry into Amesbury’s legendary “Sticky matt’s”

The challenge starts badly when the Paxinator refuses to leave out side his half eaten kebab it’s only when Big Trev tells him

“Arll fookin well by you another one right mate cos you’re my pal buys you
anything I would,But if you don’t pay me back like I fooking open you up you tight arsed cnut”

Buy now the doorman have got wind that these to might not be desirable in such a esteemed an environment and politely tell them to “fcuk off” Big Trev having none of this he has spot fat birds a plenty and wants in. He employs some sweet talking to allay the door mans fears

“Were no trouble us promise” he claims

“Yeah we not squaddies us were fish tamers you bald cnut, anyway if we were
squaddies were hero’s like I done Iraqi me you fcuk me a Trev here could do you lot
no trouble” chimes in Paxman

The doorman take them up on there offer and with his war cry of

“See you you bald fcuk I’ll cut you first” Paxman piles in never once dropping his kebab
Mean while McDonald has done one with a fat bird known locally as the hoover promising to buy her chips if she nosh’s him off.
It is 0645 and the miasma of fart gas, tobacco and beer fumes hangs throughout the celebrity bezzers 1950s styley barrack room. Think Bellaby Camp before they built the Wathgill Hilton. This morning the DS led by Herbie are planning a surprise mattress inspection.

Grant has successfully lagged his AND Paxo's mattresses, forcing Paxman to slep in his green maggot in the showers. Which in fact has been fortuitous as he has managed a "Grand slam" in there. Sadly when winkled from his kip Mcdonald has failed to soil either his drawers cellular, green or the mattress. He is subjected to doubling around the square by Herbie, carrying the offending palliasse above his head.

Scott Thomas has also failed but is given a re-test, when she explains that her daily diet of diuretics means she scarcely manages a tinkle, let alone a voiding stream in nocturnal ignorance. Her cranberry pills and milk thistle are confiscated by the DS and she is forced to down a bucket of Newkie broon and a "top shelfer" in a pint pot, mixed with Strongbow.

Next week on Celebrity Bezzer...Sidi Bezzagh Squad go to mid-Wales for the Adventure Training weekend and battery smoker...
To mix things up a bit the producers have decided to make the next task “best individual efforts” to contrast the massive Bezzering of the last couple of weeks. The vehicle for this is going to be the tricky and often violent “training camp – not your Naafi – mixed cap badge – duty free - pre-deployment drinking session”

The task given to the team is to minesweep as many drinks as possible in the last hour before the bar stops serving in the ORs bar - Sennelager.

Expectations are high as frankly Scott Thomas and Beeny attract drinks like Warriors attract small arms fire but the blokes reckon they can make a good account of themselves as they reckon the rest of the Naafi will be filled with “Remf cnuts and lard arrse faggot Fusiliers”.

Feeling isolated without the safe comfort blanket of best bezzers surrounding them the start is slow but as the Heffe Weisenbier starts to take hold the action starts to heat up. Paxman starts as he means to go on by sliding up to the juke box and puts in a tenners worth of Squaddie Favourites to get the place moving and free up some drinks from their rightful owners.

As the opening chords of “one step beyond” belt” out of the speakers 300 men as one - eyes wide and legs apart begin nutty dancing as if their lives depended on it. Attenborough - caught up in the moment - is centre of the floor running on the spot with arms giving it big licks as the Madness favourite sends the troops into a dancing frenzy.

All three Bezzer instructors - forgetting any instructions that may have ever been given to them and high on the heady mix of cheap German alcohol, fags and Madness are doing the “madness walk” around the edge of the bar whilst Sarah Beeny stands on the bar shouting “ONE STEP BEYOND”.

Paxman has been making hay and has banged down three stray “kleines” before hitting the mother load - a table full of “Tulip vase” 16 inch high litre pots full of Dunkels. He’s starting on his second when he feels the hot breath of retribution on his neck as he’s challenged by the pints rightful owner via the medium of a bar stool round the back of his head.

At this the dogs of war are well and truly loosed and the long anticipated “weapons free” kick off explodes.

Grant – sworn enemy of Paxman and known series hard man launches himself across the bar eyes wild, arms flailing


Bezzering beyond boundaries Grant is standing back to back with Paxman taking on all comers as the celebs answer the war cry with varying degrees of success.

Bamber Gascoigne - a dark horse if ever there was one is taking on three men at once in the big face off “You feckin want some - I shit ya!” his berserker pose and lack of inhibition is enough to stall his would be attackers.

Judith Hann - still smarting from her Bezzer failure of dobbing Grant in uses this as an opportunity to redeem herself, ashtray in one hand, fire extinguisher in the other she flails her way through the wild west bar scene.

“COME ON” is her cry as the celebs make their fighting withdrawal to the fire escape.

Outside Grant and Paxman, so long rivals are leaning on each other - bloodied but unbowed.

“I knew you’d not leave me in there” bawls Paxman
Now based in Germany, and in the best traditions of the foreign phase of America's next top model (a quick ref to keep the ladies interested). The celebs are now in the second half of their bezzer training in a 12x12 with pallet flooring amidst the drizzling grey of 'the worst lager in the world.'
The morning after the big ruck and everyone is still in their maggots except for Gascoigne who is sat on the edge of his bed, in his skiddies and blindly clawing at his jewels.
He winces as he tries to light a clatty rauch with a fat lip. Once sparked the benny hedgehog induces a coughing fit and bamber honks on the deck. Half of the chunks of last nights schnelly are perched atop the pallets and the rest made it through the gaps onto the floor.
The noise partially wakes paxman.
"nnnnnyyyyeeesssss, clean that up you filthy cnut." He mumbles before slipping back into the arms of morpheus. Paxo's return to deep sleep is marked by a long lazy trump like the fog horn on a saudi oil tanker.
"Fcuk off you big nosed fcuker." Mumbles bamber, but as the smell of the vom assails his hooter, he decides to dispose of the remaining chunks. So in one deft move, he hoiks his schlong out from his sopping wet Y fronts, then whilst still sitting with tab in mouth, and employing the 'thumb and forefinger around the base of the knob' techinque, he expertly hoses the vom down between the gaps in the pallets.
So by the light of the kero heater, the tent is silent save for the gushing noise of Gascoignes lag and the occasional fart.
It is during this silence that Gascoigne over hears the instructors outside the tent preparing for reveille. They are talking about a new comer to the course.
The new addition is designed to really shake the group up. Non other than nationally renowned drunken footy bezzer, Delia Smith.
Gascoigne only has enough time to ponder the potential of Delia's expertly cooked kero heater toastie egg banjos, when they are rudely awoken by the instructors.
Ahead of them lies todays bonding task. They are all off to Alan's tattoo parlour to get inked in with the course title, date and their nickname. All atop a badly drawn bulldog that looks more like gurning hamster with a Union jack wastecoat and boxing gloves.

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