Confessional -Confess Your Sins Here and Receive Arrsolution

Our cernunnos, who art in Paderorn
Give us this day our daily Lezz,
Thy neighbouring Hun
Who's bins undone
From one week to the next.
Give us this day our latest post,
And neglect not thine talented pooch.
And relate unto us the antics
Of thine mother-in-law,
Lead us into meriment,
And ignore the beer sprayed keyboards,
For thine is the funniest, and shouldbe resurrected.

To Seb,

sorry mate but it was I who after a few too many shandys crept into your room with a turd in a pint glass, put it on your bedside table, propped a photo of your missus up in it at a juanty angle and then proceeded to turn the heating up to max!

Still cant remember who was more p1ssed you or your missus.

you may recall an unfortunate incident involving the large plastic bottle of mineral water you used to leave in a rather prominent position upon your desk, partake thereof in a somewhat ostentatious manner and guard jealously in mistaken belief that your fellows might actual want to sup some of the vastly overpriced liquid.

Our attempts to enhance your enjoyment by adding some CO2 in solid form did have an unfortunate outcome in terms of producing total structural failure due to excess pressure but you should count yourself lucky that the rapid onset of this event meant that you were not in the room when this aqueous demo charge went off.

For this I, along with others, beg forgiveness, albeit with smiles on our faces and fond memories


Vogelsang, mid-80's, the LAD is practising ambush drills and section attacks. lol

Me: Bedford driver. 2Lt Francis 'NO Names, sat in the passengers seat, cold trembling fingers itching to light his first thunder flash.

Driving through the ambush he decides NOW is the time to light the thing.

Seeing as he's not aware his window is wound up, I'm wondering where he's going to throw the thing, my (open) window being the obvious answer.

'Fcuk that' I say to myself, what if he misses? I'm all I've got!

>Emergency stop >wind up my window >leap out the cab and slam the door.

>'Dink', as it hits the (now closed) drivers window.

>'Boom!' as the propellant ignites.

>'Crunch' as the windscreen flies out and lands in front of the Bedford.

No NAmes
the poor lad, shell-shocked for days and never right after that.

Young Sir with no eardrums, I beg your forgiveness but oh how how we laughed.


Book Reviewer
To the bloke in Thetford with the convertible BMW:

It was my brother and I wot dun it, and we are both very, very sorry. We'd been on the lash, feeling a tad worse for wear, and had nowhere else to go. It wasn't too bad for my brother, but for me, I needed, nay desperately needed to do a No. 2 somewhere.

I'm sorry we ran off, giggling like a couple of schoolgirls when you started shouting out of the window; we should have stayed, cleaned up your motor and accepted our punishment.

I prostate myself before my fellow arrse members (fnar fnar) for your considered review and punishment according to our laug . . . crime against BMW's and the cnuts wot drive them.
For making klu klax clan headresses out of pillow cases and wearing them when ever certain sgt posed with his "boys " for photos .
I'd like to say I am sorry but I'm not as it still makes me giggle now :roll:
Big Gay Al, It was Swampy S*****r, the Champ and myself that used to remove your clothes from your locker, cut the toes off your socks, piss in your boots and sh1t in your trainers. The reason you always had the sh1ts wasn't because the food in the mess was minging but had more to do with the laxatives we used to put in your brew.

We didn't like you much!
Garelochhead harbour area – Op Gryphons Reel 1996

It was me who pissed on you whilst you were taking a shit. It was dark …and after 16 days of hard-routine, you were getting on my tits.

I knew you couldn’t see me but couldn’t give fck by then anyway. You were not SAS and neither were we.

We also spent the whole Tasking, ordering Chinese from the local takeaway....

They would drop it off on the B833, about 300meters from our OP.

We sometimes had beer too (and thought of you eating your corn beef hash)

Give ’em a call:

01436 811 117
Sincere apologies to one of the girls I shared a room with in Dortmund, for twas I that drew lovely moustaches on all your posters of Jean Claude van Dam on the day that I got posted back to Larkhill.

um..sorry, but it served you right for making our room look like a bunch of ten year olds lived in it!
Where are all the Welsh Guards that ran about dancing with glee and inebriated in stripey pyjamas down the road outside Belsen camp on the anniversary of Krystal Nacht.

Shame on you, confess it now!
To my old boss, it was me who slammed your coke addicted, waste of space daughter in law's brand new Golf Gti into a kerb at 60, tearing a nice big chunk out of her shiney new alloys that were paid for with the payrise I should have got...Im not sorry, youre a cnut, and your son has been growing cannabis in the old caravans at your caravan site for years.
Ripe Village circa 86 or was it 87?

To the DS staff and the Civ pop driver of the Ford Escort Mk2 - please forgive me it was my turd you sat on when you got in to drive it. For some reason you and the DS staff didn't see the funny side.

Only a bit of squaddie humour no harm done or meant.

Got away with for all these years until you bastewards got this one going to get poor guilty squaddies to confess all!
Wonk_Mog said:
The Completely Bald QM type B**** W***h Werl 1980.
Sir, I went as a relief driver for a local Army Girls school on a trip and therupon I confess I did not know who you were so I proceeded to stick my jong in yer ****. She was gagging for it too. I spent the rest of my tour Shiiteing myself that you would find out.
Skin by chance? did you stick over his daughter?
To all those guardrooms in Germany who received calls in the early hours of the morning that went along the lines of 'good morning ,Cpl X, some Regt, how can I help you Sir' at the other end ' Good morning Cpl Y, some other Regt, how can I help you Sir' pause 'hello' other line 'hello' pause again ' who's calling' other line 'This is Cpl Y, how can I help you', Cpl X 'you called me', Cpl Y 'no you called me', Cpl X ' NO! YOU called ME!'..... Meanwhile listening to the convo is a previously bored but now sniggering silently RMP NCO who actually dialled both of you.
Sorry and I now claim my arrsolution.
Capt J EME QRIH/QRH Soltau last battlegroup to train there.

Sir, I would like to take this opportunity to appologise for the incident with the overflowing Turdis and the load strap. You were not selected at random from the thousands who used the disgusting portable bog, the plan had been running for several months. Ever since you prioritised your ski training as more important than writing the lads confidentials.

We know you were aware of the plan, why else did you always sneek to the toilet in the early hours of the morning. That you chose to use that particularly full and extremely disgusting turdis at half past one in the morning played into our hands. There were few witnesses. The lads who were stagging on in the gun pit who attracted your wrath were not responsible. Although they did make the phone call, and kept the loadstrap handy for us.

When we load strapped the Turdis and tipped it forward to lie on the door we were unaware of three things.

1. That it would take nearly an hour before anyone heard you.

2. That a Turdis could take such a kicking from a large man like yourself and not give way.

3. That the nearest functioning shower would be in Fallingbostel.

Your accusations levelled at the lads on stag were unfounded. They could not possibly have heard your crys for help. They were laughing too loudly!

Thank you for attempting to ruin every carreer you came into contact with, it was pure misfortune that the CO saw through you! You should think yourself lucky, traditionally the whistleing spade is applied to officers like yourself.

I humbly beg for arrsolution!
For your sinful use of the telephone you are arrsolved. It is your chosen Arm and profession however, which damns you!


Book Reviewer
To the rather upset gentleman who had his car, er, re-coloured with cement, hydraulic fluid, paint, shoit and p!ss:

You shouldn't have taken the money, or the stuff, it wasn't yours, you knew it was wrong, and I'm not telling you who did it.

I seek ARRSOLUTION for photographing said motor, and laughing like a drain, when it should have been me that sought retribution in person.

(Photos available on request).

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