The fact that you have to satisfy yourself with penetrating the phylumic cousin of a wildebeast when in the outback to sate your cravings says more about you than it does about me.Lack of hetero manliness requires you debase yourself to impress Wop and Yank birds, instead of just exuding enough pheromones to floor a rhino and letting the ntombezaans do all the work pouring the tea and opening the packet of HobNobs.
Your shame amuses me.
Tea from a machine? Shirley, tis the work of the Devil!I herald from a *cough* Corps as opposed to the Umpty Umph Queens Own Pwancers Chinless Wedgement of Horse, or dare I utter the utterance in any less than respectfully hushed tone, The Loamshires! Therefore standards differ.
That said, unlike the RAF I'd rather have a barely-warm pot of coffee on the hotplate at Tea Time than to take my refreshment from a MACHINE! A machine I say!
The fact that you have to satisfy yourself with penetrating the phylumic cousin of a wildebeast when in the outback to sate your cravings says more about you than it does about me.
Wop birds make mean spag bol after a good hosing and you don't have to catch, kill, gut and spit roast them on a home made braai.
I would like to think he was being very cunning indeed, ensuring that the sort of Gentleman no soldier wants to work for fell at the first hurdle . . . . .Were you Plt Sgt Brigade Squad Sept 1981 Guards Depot by any chance? After eight weeks of blue red blue drill and beasting, the Plt Sgt waved us off to Westbury for RCB with the advice "don´t go talking to any of those fish ´n chip mob herberts down there. Remember, you´re guardsmen, maintain your standards!" So it came as no surprise that over half the Plt failed RCB. Quite difficult to show your leadership qualities if you won´t talk to most of your fellow candidates!
I suppose that's something, but coffee at Tea? Shirley a nice Pot of Earl Grey, taken with Lemon, or for those of a stronger constitution Lapsang Suchong, taken Black. It would be like eating Cucumber sandwiches without cutting orf the crusts. Dear boy even in the "cough" Corps one can aspire to standards above the common soldiery/RAF.
That was very random. Do you need to sit down now you are done shouting at the passing cars?Shouty nails baby eating RSMs who don't give a fuck about the whining fashion victims who piss and moan about comfortable footwear because their boyfriends, who are even weaker than they are, feel faint in the presence of such hetero tigerness.