1) The choggies who work in the NAAFI are natives of St Helena and Ascension Island, who consider a two year stint in the Falklands as their once-in-a-lifetime chance to experience life in a dizzying metropolis. They don't put out much as they are bible-thumpers to a man. They hang pictures of the Queen in their accommodation, believe that the UK is someone kind of 1950s wonderland straight out of a Janet And John book and don't take kindly to questions about grass skirts. Cook strange things like baked bean and prawn pizza.
2) Walking around the Death Star of a Saturday night is like a pub crawl through a town entirely populated by squaddies (like an indoor version of Sennelager without the women). Scratch the surface and you will find all sorts of weird little places tucked away, like WVRS cafes, gyms and (allegedly) rooms full of MOD contractors who's useful employment ended years ago. Beware of running corrider battles on special occasions. The RAF at the top end will barracade themselves behind a secure door and collectively wet their pants at such times.
3) People who haven't been to the Islands before will become excited at the prospect of a trip into Stanley, imagining that the experience will be akin to getting down to Split or Kuwait. They will soon be stripped of such illusions when they realise that the whole place is made of wriggly-tin, has about 8 shite pubs full of matelot memorabilia and a 'supermarket' who's most exciting offering is smoked mackrel. Once you've had your picture taken by the big signpost, that really is it.
4) ...unless you go to the Benny Bop for the local talent. Please don't consider doing this. They really are all mental and smell of onions when they take their tops off.
5) You will see Upland Geese wandering around MPA in pairs. Don't worry - at some point EVERYONE wonders what would happen if you killed one of them. Return tourers will claim to know a Marine who did this. Ignore them.
6) Full BFFI exercises are regularly called and, in the weeks leading up to the start of the ex, the place will go mental with rumour control. If you are not part of the Infantry Company or RE Squadron, don't worry about it - you'll be in your own bed by 22:00 when your crab OC decides you've done quite enough work for one day. Snuggle down beneath your duvet to the thought of the poor ******* out in the snow, pretending to repair an airfield or defend a mountain all night.
7) If you take happy snaps in an old minefield - don't take them into the photo place at MPA to get them developed. The ***** have no sense of humour and will drop you right in it. Strangely, they have no such qualms about developing pictures of the cocks of RAF boys that you pull...
If you value your sanity, don't under any circumstances get put on a drinking ban. And phone your Mum at least once a week.
They still playing that game eh! Oh what fun it was being the sheriff watching people squirm and the others shitting themselves. Fortunately for me I got through.........Just!
Still got the Tshirt somewhere but somehow it has shrunk in the wash!