I was well mortal and as I was making my way back through camp at a very slow crawl dressed only in a tutu and a jesters hat I happened upon the Colonel's prize Labrador, well one thing led to another, as you can well imagine.
As I was just enjoying myself I looked down to see a pair of shiny ammo boots - which upon looking up seemed to be attached to the Razzman -So shocked was I that my first IA was to shit myself and my second to deposit half of the Herforder Brewery all over the Man with the Stick.
He merely remarked Not good enough - You call your self a soldier
I reminded him that I was the Adjutant and that as it was 11.00hrs was his problem?
Needless to say It did cause a bit of embarresment but how we laughed about it afterwards.
Black Hand..as the RSM of [censored] between 19 and 19, I immediately recognised you as Captain . To say we laughed about what transpired that night is a bit of an exagerration. Suffice to say I had no problems getting my LE commission, the colonel thought the puppies singularly attractive and your monthly salary eventually covered the experimental dry-cleaning bills at Qinetiq.
The only thing is, I recently heard from Corporal  who alleges he has photographs of me taking sloppy seconds with Rover. In your new post as Vice Chief of the  Staff and Colonel in Chief of the , is there any chance you could have a quiet word and sort him out for me? See you in Pirbright for the regimental reunion - oh have I just compromised OPSEC? No probably be alright...
As a young lad I often fell in and out of infatuation with unfortunate ladies; trying as hard as I could to get a leg over or even just a fumble in their thatch. I wasn't always successful.
Working at a Bde HQ at the time I was surrounded by female flesh, clerks, other Corps members etc etc, but I never got a whiff if lady juice. Then one day we all got deployed to a little African country, Sierra Leone.
Now out there the threat from Malaria (as well as other world fukkeruppers) is high. Unfortunate for us the strain of Malaria was believed to be extemely resistant to anything other than Larium. Poor us. Anyone who has been on Larium for a lengthy period of time can vouch for how much it messes with you. Especially your dreams. I had many a night where I would wake up stood outside after sleep walking or in a cold sweat after believeing a giant spider was trying to rape my balloon knot.
But one of my dreams gave me an idea. My fellow colleague was a prolific lesbian who I just had to convert back. Lets call her Becky. Now Becky had an arrse of a bergan and the chest of a small Thai lady boy awaiting breast implants - but she had a cheeky "come over here because I am dirty and want to hump you until you piss blood". Needless to say I got no where.
I then caught the attention of the Bde bike. Lets call her Cath. Absolutely lovely girl, the kind of stock you would marry and sell your left kidney for - except for the fact that she was (is?) an absolute sluut of the highest order. It never really crossed my mind to try it on with her as she was making the beast of two backs with a well built WO2 jobby.
But all that changed when we came back from tour. After the week in barracks we were set to go our seperate ways when on the Thursday Becky asked if I wanted to go out with her and her girlfriend. I felt a little awkward thinking they were going to gang rape me for trying it on with Becky. But instead they suggested that I bring Cath with me. Result!
I chucked on the tightest fitting non-gay top I had to expose my tanned and well defined (at the time) body thinking I looked the tits*. I chucked a sleeping bag in the car with a change of clothes and picked up the Sluut Cath and drove 150 miles to the RV - a married quarter on an RAF base. The lesbian lover of Becky had managed to aquire one for licking bean!!
Everyone who knows me knows that I can not drink white wine - its like giving exstacy to a pitbull. So low and behold, the only drink in the house was white wine of the cheapest order. I thought "in for a penny" and began drinking like a fish in water.
The next fatal error was for us to go for a curry. I had a tikka masala (which is chicken in a red creamy sauce - you'll know why soon). Whilst in the balti house I began throwing back some serious quantities of Tiger. Nice.
After this we went to a club where I began straight away on the spirits**. I was Shfucked! I have been told that I tried to dirty dance with anything that moved - but trust me, I CAN NOT DANCE EVEN THE BIRDY SONG!
The taxi ride came and went with me having no recollection. The next thing I know im in the house on camp wanting to fall over and sleep.
"Why don't you and Cath have our bed instead of sleeping on the lounge floor?" Becky said. To which I replied, "i sust wanna go t'bed I donna care"
I crashed in to the bedroom clutching my sleeping bag like a life jacket. I then stripped off, climbed in my maggot standing up then collapsed on the bed. Cath? I don't know and didnt care what she did. I was out cold.
I then woke with the room spinning out of control. I climbed out of the maggot thinking "I am gonna hurl big chunks - hang on, where the fukk am I? This isnt my room?"
I could see the square root of F all, not knowing where I was. I stumbled against the wall feeling for a door...
I found a window.....
a poster ......
but no door. At this point I puked in my mouth.
Sod it, i'll use the window. I shuffled back, but didnt make it, I puked more in to my mouth, more than it could take. A squirt flew out over the radiator - and whatever was hanging on it.
I reached the window but it had a safety catch on it! What if I was on fire?!?!
"Are you alright?" Caths voice asked me from the gloom. I wanted to reply "everything is ok, nothing to worry about, you go back to sleep I'll sort it all out" but with a gob full of .....
A little bit more puke erupted from between my pursed lips all over the nets. The light came on - there was Cath kneeling on the bed with a look of shock as I turned round and projectile vomitted all over my sleeping bag next to her.
"Im ok" I said, gathering up my sleeping bag, the nets and using a half tikka masala covered towel off the radiator to wipe the wall down. I stuffed everything in my bergan.
"FunkyNewblood, do you want me to help you clean it up?" Cath asked. God I love you I thought.
"No, i'm ok". I said making my way back to the bed clutching a towel to use as a blanket.
""Errm, you've missed a bit on the floor" Cath announced as I progressed towards her. She was right you know. A stray piece of regurgutated*** chickan tikka masala had made a run for it and was sitting on the floor covered in bile. I reached down, picked it up and ate it in front of this Sluut Princess, turned the light off and collapsed once again on the bed.
I awoke about 4 hours later dithering. The towel I used as a blanket was a face towel. My naked body quivered. I rolled over and saw Cath snuggled in her sleeping bag, face all warm and cheeks all rosy. I got up, puked some more in the toilet, brushed my teeth and climbed back in bed, waking her saying I was cold. She opened her bag up and let me in! Result!
I shall end this one here. She did get me back by by pissing on me in her sleep later on in our drunken relationship. Any bloke out there must admit she is perfect - and shes is a stunningly beautiful lady. I even introduced her to my family. But I am now happily married to an even more beautiful and thoughtful woman who I love immensely - just in case!
* I have kept the gay top - I've been told it suits me and is why Cath wanted to sleep with me that night!
** It turns out that when the girls were getting me drinks they were ordering doubles and triples!
*** I am no good @ splleing.
There was once a security alert in a certain camp in NI in which I lived. It seemed there was a bunch of balaclava clad youths seen on the roof of the Sgt's mess in the early hours of the morning following a p1ss up in a bar on camp, let's call it the whinge inn. Not only did they lead the guard a merry dance around camp but they would regularly mount raids on the birds accomodation. Their calling card was that they were naked apart from the balaclavas and would storm birds rooms when they were foolish enough to leave them unlocked at night. Their name - "The Naked Red Hand Commandos" .......... apparently. I wonder what happened to those crazy guys.