One for the NAAFI bar comedians

Originally from here:
Please continue the story...

I can see it now.
David Attenbourgh in a hide, cammed up to look like a fruit machine in the corner of the Naafi.

(whispering type voice)
So as you can see the watering hole is starting to become a bit more crowded now that the daylight has gone.
The less timid creatures from the linebay have staked their places where they have a good view of who will be entering the bar.

Oh Oh look there is a small herd of technical types standing at the door wondering if it is safe to come in or whether they will be forced into the zulu warrior, but they should be safe enough at the moment as it is still quite early.

My goodness we are lucky tonight. A flock of "overmade up munters" has just appeared. My hasn't that made the linebay perkup and take notice.

If we keep really quiet we may be able to hear the chat up lines.
I can almost hear Attenboroughs gasp of disbelief as the following occurs...

"for once... i'm truly lost for words, a once in a lifetime sighting of a beast so rare.... it was thought to not exist in many circles, and here.... for the first time .... we can witness the rare and exotic animal, fabled, mythical and unexpected... it is ...... the coachload of nurses from Rinteln..... many years they have been travelling to arrive at this destination.... and the journey has obviously been an arduos one... some of them show signs of being massively underweight, and probably dont even weigh 18 stones.... they will feed first., and drink their fill... and then attempt to mate before disappearing whence they came."
the punters are very nervous. it is mating season but it is not yet confirmed if the females are in heat.

one of the younger males try his prowess with the more dominant females of the group, but he is casually ignored. A sort of school boy error on the younger males part, to assume that the females would be impressed by the offering of drink and a cheesey chat up line.

The dominant male of the group steps up to the task, teaching the younger males how to deal with the females. What's this, a dazzling display of wit , charm and conversation? He shows the way by not staring at their breasts while talking to the females, listening to what they are saying and not assuming that because the female talks to them that they have "pulled"

The younger males watch with close inspection, casually drinking and not trying to look too interested that the dominant male has managed to grab the females attention. They try again with a loud display of drunkeness from the other corner of the bar, but to no avail.

As in all the animal kingdom, the more mature animals will teach their young how to deal with many things. The gathering of beer, the hunting for savory snacks. But the technique of mating will be something they will have to learn by making mistakes of their own. If not, i'm sure they can trap off with the local bicycle if they are stuck at 01:50 hrs :wink:
Listen very carefully and you can hear the sound of the lesserzitted Naafi tart trying to fend off the attentions of one of the younger males.

"Facking keep your 'ands off me t!ts."

The male is of course being encouraged in his efforts by the rest of the young males in this pride.

"Gowan my son ya know she wants it really"

This doesn't seem to be impressing the female but perhaps if he brings her the traditional mating gifts of a pint of Baileys and Malibu with a Ginsters pasty he might have a better chance.

We will keep an eye on this possible pairing as the night goes on.
It seems one of the weaker males, possibly from the family we have named RLC is communicating with the Munters that are near the bar... Oh But whats this, a stronger larger male from the Infantry family has engaged him in a battle. The prize, The overweight Female munter which is slowly becoming subdued by the excess drinking... The battle was always destined to go one way and the member of the RLC family limps away to the safety of the snooker tables to look on from afar at what was nearly his!
...then suddenly, like a distant peel of thunder across the steppe, comes the regal sound of two heavily inebriated squaddies "bezzering" together. This might seem almost like a courtship ritual, but in fact it is something much, much deeper than that.

As Pte. Snooks tells L/cpl. Atkins that he forgives him for some past misdemeanour that both of them have clearly forgotten, L/cpl. Atkins shows his approval by throwing a full pint of Fosters in the general direction of his mouth, missing it completely and showering the Nurses of Rinteln (was it them? Could it really have been true or was it something more mythic, akin to St. Elmo's Fire?).

Pte. Snooks heads off looking for ashtrays to drink, unsettling a small pride of young signallers poring over a computer magazine and minding their own business. In this almost primeaval atmosphere one gets the feeling that anything can happen. What is that squaddie putting in the NAAFI microwave?
And....wait a minute, yes were is luck!. One of the males has leapt onto the pool table and is performing the ancient squaddie ritual...the dance of the flaming arseholes...amazing. Just look at the slappers noses turn up at the sight of that singeing anal hair. The females are absolutely spellbound, he's grabbed their attention totally, but wait, he's farted and followed thru, how tragic. The slappers have recoiled in horror as the misfired gob of turd arcs across the bar like an 81mm flying fish. The Naafi bar door bursts open...its the guard commander, with pick helve wielding guard in tow. It looks like the dominant male is on the way to the slammer for sure, leaving the females ripe for the picking of the other shitefaced members of the herd....


Yes...I do believe that one of them has now gathered up enough courage to initiate the mating ritual.....He makes a tactical approach (Sways Drunkenly) up to one of the Hippocrocouglyphants and nonchalantly leans on the Bar whilst ogling her T*ts. After letting loose a Fart to set the Romantic atmosphere he launches into his opening line.........What this I hear....a rare example of infanterous besoffenus from the North of England...his opening line "Yer Divven`t sweat much for a Fat Lass" earns him fluttering eyelids, a Slap across the Chops and Howls of laughter from the Herd. Egged on by her obvious encouraging behaviour he moves in for the Kill...Errr..."do yer fancy a Shag then or wot?"...After picking himself up off the floor he returns to the Herd and comments "I´m gonna have her later on!"

It seems that the Lineys have bitten of more they can chew, as they still seem to believe that they are the apex predator, not just wanabe's with Gay Belts. The technicals spot them and the air crackles with Hyena like laughter as they jump in a Taxi and head off down town, leaving the Lineys to rue the day that they were jiffed at the Selection centre in to a low paid and overrated job. They turn back inwards and decide to save up for a NAAFI growler for tea between the eight of them as with PAYD, they must scavenge for food as it is after the 8th of the month and a long cold three weeks awaits until they can blow their wages again on some blue lights for their Corsa 1.2s and a Rustlers King Rib.

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