Scroungers Part Two

I couldn't help but see the original thread get shitcanned and for good reason too, but it set me thinking about scroungers, and the ones I'd encountered in green. One such specimen, let's call him Smithy for that was the cunt's name, latched on to me in the first week of my combat infantry at Strensall. He was always on the ponce, ciggies mainly, and I wouldn't have minded if he'd been a bit more switched on and less lazy as a soldier. Eventually fate saw us, and the other smokers, at dark am outside the block having first smoke of the February morning before we got on with our stuff. Smithy asked me for a rollup, but this time as I was rolling my own one a fucking massive dewdrop dripped out of my nose and straight on to the tobacco, which soaked it up instantly. I carried on rolling, and handed it to him "There you are mate" About halfway down he started to have trouble with it, watching his cheeks suck in was exquisite pleasure and it kept me happy throughout that morning's mud runs. Cheers smithy you scrounging cunt, later on you managed to get pretty much the whole of Dettingen platoon against you and a corporal ended up congratulating me for beating him up when he tried to go back to his doss bag instead of stagging on.

I'm now late for work writing this, I'll fuck off now and you can enter your own accounts of scrounging cunts in green, enjoy.
 
A Welsh kid, in my room, in basic training was the biggest scrounger I ever knew. "Can you lend me a pound?"
Even on a pay-day, he was still at the scrounge. "Taff, you've just been paid. What do you wanna borrow money for?"
"I know. But I owe money all over the place," was his reply.
Getting your money back off him was like getting blood out of a stone. Payback (can I use that expression in this context?) came one time when he had a jacket to sell that was a bit too big for him, and he was skint. I quite like it, and bought it off him, "But I can only pay you half now, and the rest later."
Taff agreed to that, and I paid in dribs and drabs. From then on, with the boot on the other foot, I never got a day's peace from him.
I left it as long as I could, and when I handed over his last installment, I told him, quite truthfully, that I had the money, and could have paid in full on the day. But I just wanted to give the scrounging twat a dose of his own medicine.
 

TheManFromWem

Old-Salt
I couldn't help but see the original thread get shitcanned and for good reason too, but it set me thinking about scroungers, and the ones I'd encountered in green. One such specimen, let's call him Smithy for that was the ****'s name, latched on to me in the first week of my combat infantry at Strensall. He was always on the ponce, ciggies mainly, and I wouldn't have minded if he'd been a bit more switched on and less lazy as a soldier. Eventually fate saw us, and the other smokers, at dark am outside the block having first smoke of the February morning before we got on with our stuff. Smithy asked me for a rollup, but this time as I was rolling my own one a ******* massive dewdrop dripped out of my nose and straight on to the tobacco, which soaked it up instantly. I carried on rolling, and handed it to him "There you are mate" About halfway down he started to have trouble with it, watching his cheeks suck in was exquisite pleasure and it kept me happy throughout that morning's mud runs. Cheers smithy you scrounging ****, later on you managed to get pretty much the whole of Dettingen platoon against you and a corporal ended up congratulating me for beating him up when he tried to go back to his doss bag instead of stagging on.

I'm now late for work writing this, I'll **** off now and you can enter your own accounts of scrounging cnuts in green, enjoy.
I get it here "sheltered accomodation" at 83 old ..there is always some tw@ who will try it on with you...after a few refusals, I found a shutting door.........( or grab a collar and drag him towards the shutting dooor, then shut it, usually works......we are not an unlimited supply for help to the idle barstewards..........rant over.........h6
 

Jonnynoname

War Hero
I couldn't help but see the original thread get shitcanned and for good reason too, but it set me thinking about scroungers, and the ones I'd encountered in green. One such specimen, let's call him Smithy for that was the ****'s name, latched on to me in the first week of my combat infantry at Strensall. He was always on the ponce, ciggies mainly, and I wouldn't have minded if he'd been a bit more switched on and less lazy as a soldier. Eventually fate saw us, and the other smokers, at dark am outside the block having first smoke of the February morning before we got on with our stuff. Smithy asked me for a rollup, but this time as I was rolling my own one a ******* massive dewdrop dripped out of my nose and straight on to the tobacco, which soaked it up instantly. I carried on rolling, and handed it to him "There you are mate" About halfway down he started to have trouble with it, watching his cheeks suck in was exquisite pleasure and it kept me happy throughout that morning's mud runs. Cheers smithy you scrounging ****, later on you managed to get pretty much the whole of Dettingen platoon against you and a corporal ended up congratulating me for beating him up when he tried to go back to his doss bag instead of stagging on.

I'm now late for work writing this, I'll **** off now and you can enter your own accounts of scrounging cnuts in green, enjoy.
you have a wild imagination ..i´ll give you that
alzeVB4R_700w_0.jpg
 
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Jonnynoname

War Hero
not really a scrounger but a bit of a tramp.
Guy was a piss head so i guess all his money went in the Bar.
I heard he fished out an old pair of trainers out one of the big silver bins between the blocks
wore them proudly too around camp
 

RBMK

War Hero
I used to live in the eastern edge of Manchester in the late 80s / early 90s.

One of our neighbours had a duaghter -- the type you would not wish on any parent.

Liz never did any legit work but could occasionally be found behind the bar in one of the local pubs for cash plus tips & don't tell the taxman. Always seemed to have money for booze and fags. She lived with mum and dad [who were perfectly respectable people in their 50s] but wanted a place of her own.

Deliberately got herself knocked up and then hoofed the father so that she qualified as priority for a council flat. Often used to see her wheeling the kid round to leave with her mum when she then headed off to the pub with a fag in her mouth.

In the 5 years that I *knew* her she never did any honest work.

Best I can describe is a "scrounging slut". My 10' bargepole was not long enough.
 
I used to live in the eastern edge of Manchester in the late 80s / early 90s.

One of our neighbours had a duaghter -- the type you would not wish on any parent.

Liz never did any legit work but could occasionally be found behind the bar in one of the local pubs for cash plus tips & don't tell the taxman. Always seemed to have money for booze and fags. She lived with mum and dad [who were perfectly respectable people in their 50s] but wanted a place of her own.

Deliberately got herself knocked up and then hoofed the father so that she qualified as priority for a council flat. Often used to see her wheeling the kid round to leave with her mum when she then headed off to the pub with a fag in her mouth.

In the 5 years that I *knew* her she never did any honest work.

Best I can describe is a "scrounging slut". My 10' bargepole was not long enough.
Any photos of her tits?

Asking for myself of course
 

Wordsmith

LE
Book Reviewer
One of our neighbours had a daughter -- the type you would not wish on any parent.

Deliberately got herself knocked up and then hoofed the father so that she qualified as priority for a council flat. Often used to see her wheeling the kid round to leave with her mum when she then headed off to the pub with a fag in her mouth.
Someone I knew had a daughter that got pregnant at 17. She was clearly not going to work, and J*** was a fairly wealthy small scale builder, so he brought a run down property at a low price via his company, did it up and rented it to his daughter who was on housing benefit/unemployment benefits.

And thus the local council, who saw the property was owned by a company and did not twig the company was owned by N******'s father, ended up playing the bulk of the mortgage.

And that is how you work the system.

Wordsmith
 
Someone I knew had a daughter that got pregnant at 17. She was clearly not going to work, and J*** was a fairly wealthy small scale builder, so he brought a run down property at a low price via his company, did it up and rented it to his daughter who was on housing benefit/unemployment benefits.

And thus the local council, who saw the property was owned by a company and did not twig the company was owned by N******'s father, ended up playing the bulk of the mortgage.

And that is how you work the system.

Wordsmith
Any photos of HER tits then

Usual caveat about it being for myself
 

Tool

LE
Mate of the sprogette had her name on the council list for sheltered housing the day she turned 16. When she left school, she did a hairdresser's course, and her father (in the building industry) was able to buy her 50% of a salon. She still lives in sheltered housing with her partner and their two kids; she never worked in the salon and rents it out while she stays at home looking after the kids. AFAIK, the partner works full-time.

Fecked if I know how she even managed to get onto the ladder, never mind keep the council house.
 
Mate of the sprogette had her name on the council list for sheltered housing the day she turned 16. When she left school, she did a hairdresser's course, and her father (in the building industry) was able to buy her 50% of a salon. She still lives in sheltered housing with her partner and their two kids; she never worked in the salon and rents it out while she stays at home looking after the kids. AFAIK, the partner works full-time.

Fecked if I know how she even managed to get onto the ladder, never mind keep the council house.
That seemed to be the typical journey through life for some folks. Not, leave school and find a decent trade to work and make a life for yourself, but here's how to get "free" stuff off the council. They knew all the tricks and wrangles to get additional benefits.

As soon as I was 16 I was being told to "get your name down on the Council list for a flat. Tell them your parents have kicked you out."

It was a way of life for some people and one that I never understood. Some used to behave like they'd found the secret of life and only mugs go out to work, not realising that they'd set the bar really low and were at their zenith in a scuzzy flat in Ringland.
 
Mate of the sprogette had her name on the council list for sheltered housing the day she turned 16. When she left school, she did a hairdresser's course, and her father (in the building industry) was able to buy her 50% of a salon. She still lives in sheltered housing with her partner and their two kids; she never worked in the salon and rents it out while she stays at home looking after the kids. AFAIK, the partner works full-time.

Fecked if I know how she even managed to get onto the ladder, never mind keep the council house.
Bubble her up: Report benefit fraud
 

endure

GCM

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