Whilst serving in Belize in 90-91 the resident infantry battalion (The Gloucesters) came in for some major grief on the walls of trap four in the Holdfast Camp sh*itters.
Two that spring to mind were -
Why can't the Glosters eat pickled onions?
They can't get their heads in the jar.
Why don't the Glosters get Naafi breaks?
It takes too long to retrain them.
But the best one in there on a non-gloster baiting track was the following poem.
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe
She had so many children she could pull her p*ssflaps over her head.