Nucking Futters

Discussion in 'Now That's What I Call NAAFI Bar' started by BlackHand, Nov 15, 2004.

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  1. AFKAC's question in the Urban Myths thread made me think about the blokes who were mental - not just pretending to be.

    A Geordie blerk at a Workshop I was at never seemed ‘quite right', you would sit with him at NAAFI break and think, 'You are not quite the full tube of Smarties mate'. There was something about him that went beyond the normal squaddie mental.

    One night, on the pop after waiting on at the Sgts’ Mess, he declared that he didn't want to be with our Workshop any more and would rather be with his brother in a nearby Inf Regt - so he wanted a posting to their LAD. Apart from being nearer his brother his main reason for this was the fact he wouldn't have to wait on in the Sgts' Mess and if you did you would get more that the lousy 20DM ED pay. He chuntered on and on about it for about 3 hours, getting madder and madder.

    He disclosed his master plan to bring this about to us (or anyone who would listen) He would ‘act’ the loon with the only 'cure' for this loonyness being his much wanted posting.

    After a couple of weeks of being only slightly weirder than he was every other day of the year he executed the jewel in the crown of his insanity plan.

    He was stagging on at the main gate and had been out for about half an hour when he went inside the Guardroom and handed in his SLR (complete with magazine and 20 rounds still attached) to the Guard Commander. He explained (with eyes bulging manically) that he shouldn’t have the gat because if he saw the any members of the WO/Sgts' Mess (especially the REME RD NCO) he would would slot them'.

    The Guard commander weighed the situation up in a flash – took the gat off of him ……and his belt……… and his laces - and threw him inside, where he stayed until a wagon from Wegberg came and picked him up. He didn’t get his posting; he got the grand order of the boot from the Army.

    Nucking Futter . :twisted: :twisted: :twisted:
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  2. I was in Minden with a slightly unstable chap.

    He wasn't hard, just a bit warped, the kind you would crack, then the mad cnut would welly you from behind with a plank..

    Anyway he was posted to NI and had a quarter in Antrim...

    Rumour has it that he was duty driver and took an opportunity to nip home to see if his Mrs was upto a quickie... he had a bit of a shock, on arrival he found two rockapes upto thier nuts in her.

    He did the sensible thing and half killed them with a wheel brace and took his wife hostage.

    When the RAF police turned up they let the dogs loose on him, he bit one of thier ears off and banjoed fcuk out of the other with the same wheel brace.

    He was given the order of the boot, however years later I've heard that he is back in and still with her.
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  3. I remember getting jiffed with another bloke to deliver Christmas cards to all the quarters from the Squadron one year.

    When we were nearly finished, we got to the house of one of the unit headbangers. Using our powers of deduction we realised something was amiss. The entire contents of the house were getting chucked out of the windows into the garden. Primal roars were coming from the bedroom whilst the TV and the stereo came sailing out onto the grass.

    The blokes wife and two kids were stood at the front gate. The kids were crying and the Mrs occasionally shouting back at the house "You mad ba*tard, why don't you fcuk off and leave us?" This would cause an escalation in the noise and another item of furniture would escape into the garden.

    What did we do? We watched for 5 minutes, then my mate wandered up to the wife, who was by now sobbing uncontrollably as her life fell apart. He stuck the card in her mitt, and winked at her, "Merry Christmas from the Squadron, love." As we made to leave, the loon stuck his head out the bathroom window and shouted, "Hey, Convoy. What time does the Christmas do start?"

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  4. Army nutters the best form of entertainment ever.
    Cheers for the ones so far I've nearly been wetting myself.
  5. When I was but a lad we had one guy break up with his slag he went berswerk and it took half the gaurd to stick him in nick.
    Then in his rage he hit the wooded door 2'' thick and split it from top to bottom.
    Doc had to subdue him with a shot and then they had to split his brocken hand.
    No piss or pills just pure rage.
    john not on gaurd that day.
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  6. When I was but a lad we had one guy break up with his slag he went berswerk and it took half the gaurd to stick him in nick.
    Then in his rage he hit the wooded door 2'' thick and split it from top to bottom.
    Doc had to subdue him with a shot and then they had to split his brocken hand.
    No piss or pills just pure rage.
    john not on gaurd that day.
  7. My mate wanted to get out of the navy. He and another bloke decided to pretend they were gay. One night they knew the CO was going to do the rounds so they jumped into bed togther.

    The CO took one look at them and started to laugh. He said " look you 2 your not getting out and thats final" he adds "anyway this trick has been tried before get over it"

    They were gutted.
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  8. OK it's now time for a story about the Space Cadet or as he was known to those that didnt want to kill him quite so much (the nearest thing he had to mates) Spacey.
    Spacey was as is often described in medical publications a feckin Fruitcake, he was the only soldier I have heard of who would be sent on exercise armed with a pickhelve after he'd tried to do a Private Pile in one of the watch towers on site guard he was mad, he was bad and he was feckin entertaining. :lol:

    On the day in question the poor, unfortunate full screw who was responsible for keeping Spacey occupied had a brilliant idea to keep Spacey away from him and ensure he had a trouble free day to be filled with long NAAFI breaks, coffee and who knows maybe an early knock off..... Ferret wheelnuts. Now for those who remember them some of the wheelnuts on Ferrets had to be painted red to show that they had to be torsioned differently (two grunts I think it was) and telling Spacey to get into his covvies, went off and acquired a tin of red gloss paint, meeting Spacey at the vehicle bay (we wernt allowed to call them hangers after an unfortunate incident involving a length of rope). Handing Spacey the paint, a very small paint brush (well the job had to take as long as possible) and pointing out exactly which wheelnuts needed painting the full screw then made the fatal mistake of saying as he was leaving the bay "Spacey dont forget to shake the paint well before you use it" 8O

    Now where is the mistake there? You may ask, the mistake was he forgot to say that the paint should be shook with the lid on the tin :lol:

    Needless to say 5 minutes later as said full screw was settling down to a brew there was a knocking on the door which opened to reveal a figure covered head to foot in red gloss paint, yes Spacey had got a bit muddled opening the tin first and then remembering his instructions to shake said tin he managed to empty virtually the whole contents over himself, looking like a bit part from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre he stood there dripping red paint all over the floor. Screaming and spitting his coffee over the walls the now extremely unhappy full screw then made his second mistake.

    "Spacey get those feckin covvies off soak them in benz and then wash them quick before the paint dries"

    Now in his anger and haste, he forgot one thing :

    1) Never let Spacey touch anything remotely dangerous

    Now Spacey knowing deep down inside that he was swimming around in a deep pool of poo wanted to do a good job cleaning his covvies and thinking speed and efficiency decided to combine the soaking and washing stages. One pair of red paint soaked covvies disappeared into the washing machine followed by half a gallon of petrol and a level cup of washing powder.

    The resulting explosion, although luckily injuring no one totalled the washing machine and most of the cons room. 8O

    He was later medically discharged :?

    After I left the regs I stayed on in Germany and one of my first jobs was for a munitions disposal firm clearing chemical munitions from the ranges here, one day I heard a new Engländer had started, you can imagine my horror when who should I see standing before me but Spacey 8O

    Luckily he lasted about 2 weeks there, even the Boxheads didnt want to hang on to him especially when he started chasing after invisible white mice :?
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  9. He he! 5hit magnets, you can't beat 'em. Keep one nearby and you just know that nothing bad will ever happen to you.
    We had a guy in Bielefeld called Bob. Bob was AAC and attached to us to maintain the aviation box body at HQ1 (BR) Corps. Bob was also one of the biggest 5hit magnets I've ever met.
    He once took out a £10,000 loan and went awol to London for a month, and as such was on minimum wages until the debt was paid off. The last time I saw him was in jail for falling asleep in a sanger, and being caught by the RSM doing the rounds.
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  10. :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

    Brilliant. Best one liner on ARRSE in a long while.
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  11. there was a guy at nienburg who was a bit "strange"
    brilliant soldier , keen as mustard , just always took things a bit too far , he painted his walkman DPM "just in case" (i never did find out what of)
    and after a night sampling the fleshpots of nienburg would never come back into camp through the main gate "because it sets patterns" so he would rip the arrse out of his jeans climbing over the fence , or his all time classic was to walk back up the stream that ran past the camp and wriggle up a storm drain where he emerged somewhere behind dog squadrons block covered in sh*t and all sorts.
    On his B1 combat engineer course at Hameln , this guy went out on the lash , got himself in the raw , pinned a sherrifs badge through his t*t , lagged into his own shoes , done a somersault off the balcony in a club where he dislocated his shoulder , walked , sorry squelched back to camp , marched into the guardroom , bend and drove one in , tried to throw one up and fainted in pain, whereby the guard had to drag his horrible p*ss ridden body , with blood pouring from his by now very swollen t*t into the cells to await transport to the krankenhaus.
    as the ambulance drove away , the guard commander was heard to utter the immortal line
    "that man will go all the way to the top."with a tear of pride in his eye.
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  12. I had a young snaptin turn up whose brother had been in the regiment who had tragically a stroke and had to be medically discharged and had subsequently pegged it (v sad case)

    The younger brother had somehow got it into his head that the stroke had been brought on by a big knock to the head the brother had suffered whilst doing an assault course at the depot and blamed two SNCOs (who were DS Cpls then) for the damage. He clearly overlooked the fact they guy regularly drank, shagged/whored and smoked himself stupid.

    Nobody suspected anything particularly untoward until he started behaving a bit strangely, he wasnt the fittest or strongest specimen and would flake on runs/CFTs etc but somehow recover by taking off his helmet/beret/SD hat and start having a one to one conversation with it! It transpired that he kept a photo of the brother inside and would address it as"Our kid" and very quickly got christened "Obadiah" by the lads who were always a bit wary of him. 8O

    His paranoid delusions about the 2 SNCOs got to the point where he would blatantly accuse them of some complicity in his brothers conditions (which turned out to be a genetic weakness anyway and took a miraculous level of restraint on their part not to pound him) and it became very tricky to deal with as he started spreading rumours and it was necessary to come down on him like a ton of bricks eventually :x

    He really was an utterly shite soldier but was so keen to do his best for "our kid " that he turned into a liability and quickly became billy no mates as the lads got sick of hearing about "Our kid".

    He once took his battle bowler off on a range for a bit of divine assistance and almost had his eardrums perforated by me screaming at him and the firing point NCOs who dragged him from the range. He spent the rest of the day running about with norgies full of tea! :roll:

    We eventually persuaded him that perhaps the army wasnt the place for him

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  13. We had a guy turn up at the depot to do his basic. He was about 6'5" with an Afro haircut (he was white) and wearing an Afghan coat. Me and the other DS thought: 'Well done, sunshine: you've marked yourself out as the squad target'.

    Anyway, the beastings started for all the poor recruities and it turned out that our boy, now known as 'Wiggy', was amazingly unfit, and was actually the proud possessor of a concave chest. With his shirt off, he looked like someone out of Treblinka. After a couple of weeks, with the pressure piling on, Wiggy goes to see his squad Corporal during the evening.

    'Corporal, I don't think I can take it anymore.'

    'Put a fecking sock in it and get back to polishing your boots, you lanky cnut'

    'But Corporal, I'm afraid if it goes on any longer, I might wind up doing it again.'

    'Doing what?'

    At which point, Wiggy shows him his wrists which bear the scars of two separate suicide attempts.

    'Ah ha! Come with me then Sonny boy.' So Wiggy gets locked up for his own protection.

    I was off doing some top-level shagging at the time, but when I got back to the barracks. He had already been interviewed by the MO and 'sectioned', and I got the job of carting him up to the loony ward at Woolwich.

    It turned out that he was a manic depressive who had made three previous suicide attempts (1 x pills, 2 x wrist-slashing). Fair enough, except his shrink thought that joining the army might be therapeutic for him 8O
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  14. A while ago I knew a lad in the Household Division (unit to remain nameless). Tall, blonde, clean-shaven, square-jawed fit as fcuk and mad as fish. He was on the p1ss in London one night and was absolutely leaping. A drunken dare escalated and ended up with someone daring this lad to jump from the centre of Waterloo bridge and swim to the side. Quick as a flash, the square-jawed loon hopped over the barrier and jumped into what he thought was the Thames. Sadly, with the tide being out and all, he hit the shingle and broke both his legs. So apalled by his own weakness, the hatstand then dragged his sorry body, bleeding through every orifice, up some steps, back out onto the CENTRE of the bridge this time, jumped in AGAIN, and this time swam to the side, where he was met by an Ambulance crew that rushed him to hospital. Never walked properly again.

    Mad as a bag of squirrels.
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  15. ugly

    ugly LE Moderator

    Ah yes the incredible plan, as Curly my CSM used to say don't get caught!
    Funny thing was though we got banned from his home town. Alcohol never short of creative ideas.