Handy Household Hints for Life Among the Afghan


Book Reviewer
Oh deary deary me. What have they got you into this time? Afghanistan? Fucks sakes chaps.

One of my favourite countries on Gods green earth back in the day. But not now.

So, welcome to Uncle Dukes Handy Household Hints for Life Among the Alf Garnets.

Obviously I cannot advise you on military strategy or tactics. Because you have the jolly fine Military Intelligence chaps for that, eh?

One assumes they were having a nice cup ‘o tea recently when they failed to tell the Paras that if you breeze into an Afghan village for to win their hearts and minds, and theres no kids trying to pick your pocket and demand baksheesh, alarm bells go off.

Theres no people except a couple of coffin dodgers under a tree who say “Everybody is in the Mosque” even though its not Friday nor a holy day, alarm bells go off.

If these coffin dodgers don’t offer you tea and those revolting boiled sweets, alarm bells go off.

If they then point down the valley, smile and say “There is a bridge down there you can use” tighten your chin strap and leg it out the way you came in.

Amazingly nobody got hurt in the resulting shitstorm, well, none of ours got hurt. So the sterling reputation of British Military Intelligence remains untarnished, eh?

Right, lets start with the basics.


Goats head soup is absolutely what you want in January up the Hindu Kush. Its like peppery, meaty lentil soup. You wont find an eyeball popping up on account of they take them out as a delicacy. If you buy it from street sellers, make sure you touch the empty goats skulls on the draining board by the pot. The skulls should be warm and slightly greasy. Like they came out of the pot today, not a week last Friday.

Goat curry needs to cook for hours before you can eat it. Often your Alf Garnet doesn’t bother. So its like eating boiled rubber and best avoided. If you must eat it, check the meat for little golden globules of grease. This means its dog, not goat. Dog is actually more tender than goat, but if your family back home includes a lovely golden Lab called Trixie, you might want to give the whole episode a miss.

Next week – blagging it with Afghan poetry. No, I’m dead serious.

Pip Pip.
TheIronDuke said:
One of my favourite countries on Gods green earth back in the day. But not now.
It was a sh1thole "back in the day" and its a sh1thole now! You need to get out more IronHoof, try Belgium.


Book Reviewer
Thank you. I shall indeed endevour to 'get out more'. I dont get out enough, I really dont.

You noticed both Belgium and Afghanistan have a thing for embroidery? Well done that man.


Your Alf Garnet likes nothing more than a spot of poetry. Apart from murder and nicking stuff, obviously.

They got this Warrior Poet thing going, which can lead the pig ignorant to believe they are in fact a right bunch of pantomime fairies. They are not. They just like poetry. Weird eh?

So, you're with a bunch of evil looking Alf Garnets and they are chittering away in Pushtu. You aint got a scooby what they are on about, but its a knocking bet they aint discussing where to take their dear old Mum for her Sunday dinner.

Do a poem.

It dont matter what it is. It chould be The Boy Stood On The Burning Deck.

Get a 1,000 yard stare going, set your face like you was delivering the eulogy for your Mum, lots of dramatic hand gestures, wipe a manly tear away at the end.

It sort of hypnotises them and changes their mood from murder to "Fancy a cuppa and a boiled goat?"

Next week - why you should never put black polish on brown boots around your Alf Garnet.
Ace stuff Duke....I await the next instalment with anticipation.
Excellent stuff ID. Keep it coming, I look forward to your next instalment!
TheIronDuke said:

Next week - why you should never put black polish on brown boots around your Alf Garnet.
How about we fast forward to the installment "Never wipe your arrse with a shard of broken glass"

or better still:



Book Reviewer
I should like to thank you all for your messages of support and your many interesting questions.

Whilst I cannot enter into correspondence I can advise canteen_cowboy, the confused Welshman.

Yes, canteen_cowboy, I do believe the act you suggest, whilst illegal in Wales, is common practice among your Alf Garnets. But a word of warning...

Whilst it is true a camel sometimes kneels to eat scrubby grass (an interesting sight but maybe 'fascinating and hypnotic' is stronging it a bit?), they can crash to the earth with surprising force. Should you attempt the act you describe, keep your feet well back from the creatures arssehole. The damage half a ton of camels rear end might do to your tackle does not bear thinking about.

Hope this helps?

Which brings me to my subject for today.


If there is one thing your Alf Garnet likes more than murder, nicking stuff and poetry, it is his goats. Maybe because, like him, they are smelly, vicious brutes who will eat anything and look like Satan? Who knows?

A little goat husbandry will go a long way in places like Hellhole Province.

Goats suffer from many ailments which are easy to cure. A build up of discharge in his anal gland being among the most common.

Place yourself at the blunt end of your goat and lift his tail. Just below his little puckered anus you will see a shiny black thing that looks like a boil. This is his anal gland.

Get a grip on your goat with your knees and gently squeeze his anal gland. A revolting, stinking green slime will spurt out and cover your shirt. Keep squeezing until all the slime is out, then release your goat and watch him skip away, happy.

This is the way to win hearts and minds among the Alf Garnet.

Next week - Welshmen and the Alf Garnets - some monstrous lies uncovered.
Goat Husbandry...

I was thinking of joining the Army, maybe the RA though recently the Para's have appealed quite a bit. Nowere, in the course of my enquiries into my possible future career, has anyone mentioned f*cking goat husbandry. I would be willing to be shot at, bombed, IED'd and beasted til the cows come home, but poking a goats anal gland is too much for me. Im crying at the very thought. A little black thing that looks like a boil? Christ help us.

Maybe the forces aren't for me after all.


Book Reviewer
Morty said:
I would be willing to be shot at, bombed, IED'd and beasted til the cows come home.
If you can find them, and if you can afford them, I hear 49 Para are recruiting at the moment? Although they may be about to recieve some fine new recruits.

See, this is what AARSE exists for. To impart useful knowlege. Half the WO2's here got there by doing silly exams which is a right hassle.

The other half got there by ensuring the Regimental Mascots anal gland was in tip top order at all times.

Its not like anyone is going to ask you to lick the goats aarse. Only squeeze its gland.

Unless anyone can tell me different?


Book Reviewer
A bit of a lone mission here chaps, but with the encouragement and support of my dear friend canteen_cowboy, who was kind enough to relocate this useful thread to the ARRSE Hole, I shall continue.


If there is one thing your Alf Garnet loves above murder, nicking stuff, poetry and goats it is his weapon. Think of the way a football fanatic regards his teams top striker and double it. You're not even close to the way your Alf regards his weapon. Without the spoiled brat girlfriend, petulant outbursts of temper tantrums and outrageous wage demands, obviously.

I was a little chilled to read elsewhere on the ARRSE that an armourer couldn’t tell the difference between a real AK47 and a snide knocked up in a smithy up the Kyber. I never pull an experts rhubarb, so I forbore from asking him if he could tell a milled receiver from a machined receiver, but there is a simpler test.

Get lots of bullets. Fire them off on full auto. The gun that doesn’t blow your head off when it gets hot is the real thing. This is why some Afghans fire the things holding them over their heads. They hate to spoil their hair do's and an exploding breech tends to do that.

The real things are like movie stars. They have legends. "It was taken from Colonel Ivan Abromovich in the great battle of Mazi Sharif in '83 by Aziz the Questionable. When he fell in the great battle for Kabul it passed to Tariq the Light Fingered”… etc, etc. Many of their guns have names.

So, a handy move is to ask them about their weapon. If they look shifty they are holding a home made Chi-Chi and you are well down the food chain. If they stick their chin out and start droning on about the history of the gun they are caressing, you are dealing with someone worth dealing with.

And they’ll bore you for hours.

Next week – bribing your Alf Garnet. Why turquoise from Mashad is a better bet than dollars from Langley.


Book Reviewer
or consign this to where it belongs again
So, canteen_cowboy. Hows tricks? I see you are no longer a Moderator? Paying the leccie bills are you?

Episode 329. The Afghan love of taking the piss

It has struck me over the years that there are parallels between The Mob and The Alf Garnet. They have better uniforms and they don't do medals, but there is a respect. I don't talk about the last ten years or so, because we are at it again. But there used to be a visceral respect among them for the Brits. This may have vanished since the Ruskies tried to have their go, but I doubt it.

Because Alf Garnet is all about camp fire chats, chai and telling old stories. They remember Axander. And that was what? 2000 years ago. Fucks sakes.

But if there is one thing your Alf Garnet loves above murder, nicking stuff, rape, poetry, goats, explosives and guns that have a name, it is taking the piss. And they are good at it. They can set you up better than an invite to the Sargents Mess on a Friday night with your lass.

So, you have been invited into a village and all is well. Sitting around and drinking tea and chatting on nice when someone says "So, Iron, the Americans have walked on the moon?" And you say "Yes, Neil Armstrong and Apollo 11. I saw it on the telly and....

Suddenly a toothless old Ragie has jumped up and started screaming "Only Allah (peace be upon His name) can walk upon the moon", pointing his finger and generally going nuts. The rest of the group has gone quiet then you hear click click click behind you. Fuck. Fucking fuck. But just before you say you are very sorry and your Mum is waiting for you at home... you notice the cunt who invited you there. And his brothers. Trying to cattle a grin.

Bastards. So you laugh because you have spotted what they are up to. They laugh. The toothless old Ragie laughs and all is well.

But it could have gone either way. A bit like being invited into a Sargents Mess. But without the limp sausage rolls.


Book Reviewer
Oh bugger. I missed out on the poetry being late on this one.
Still never mind;
Awake for morning in the bowl of night has flung the stone that put the stars to flight
And lo, the hunter of the east has caught the sultan's turret in a noose of light.
"I awaken in the morn, after after the scratchings of the night,
I scratch me puddens and put the crabs to flight......??
Just relying so I can keep track of this in my participated. Made me smile a bit so far and I don't even know the blokes your on about!

Latest Threads