Benny was a huge unit of a man, about 6 foot 4 and must have weighed about 22 stone. He had the physique of Giant Haystacks, and couldnât close his coveralls over his belly when he was on the gun park. Heâd not passed a BFT in years, and was clinging on to his career by the virtue that he knew the workings of the MT better than most of his full screws, and Tug-O-War was quite a big thing in the regiment at the time â with Benny dug in as the anchor, you were going nowhere. The trouble with Benny was, he fucking stank. Not content with simply being allergic to water like most grots, Benny compounded this with his lifestyle. He survived on a diet of full fat Coke, crisps and chocolate, and would stuff his craw with the contents of a large tuck shop daily whilst slobbed out in his room. He owned the largest private porn collection west of Berlin, and spent every waking moment wanking furiously â morning, NAAFI breaks, lunch, at least 6 in the evening â you could tell Benny was approaching by the overpowering aroma of sweat and stale sperm arriving 5 minutes before he did. His room was a cockroaches delight, with crisps and chocolate mashed into the floor, and odd coloured stains on the carpet where spilled Coke had mixed in with the spunk from discarded tissues and solidified. Benny was the only gunner in the entire regiment with a room to himself, as no other fucker could bare to live with him. Down the other end of the corridor dwelt a scouser who hated Benny with a passion. Scouse had OCD, and would religiously clean and polish his room immaculately every single day. Even his dirty washing was neatly folded locker-layout style before being carefully lined up in his linen basket. Scouse would have a pop at Benny at every opportunity, telling him to âgo for run and have a wash, yer fat fuck lahâ, but Benny would simply shuffle back into his pit for another thrap. Scouse also had an obsession for taking various mind-altering substances at weekends, and spent most Friday nights whizzing his tits off in clubs downtown. (Scouse signed off after a short and undistinguished career, CDT was starting to come in and he jumped before he was caught and thrown). One Saturday morning, Scouse was just getting in after a night tripping his face off in Soundgarden. Going for his usual obsessive shower before getting his head down for a few hours, he emerged from the bogs just as Benny was getting back from his early morning snack run. Shuffling down the corridor clutching 6 litres of Coke and a 24 pack of crisps, Benny was perfectly aware of Scouse falling into step Monty Python style behind him but as usual chose to ignore him. Scouse started the taunts as he went, âEh lah, Iâm a big fat fuck and Iâm going to wank off to gay porn lah, you fucking fat fuckâ. Benny slowed down. Us younger lads had heard that Benny actually snapping was a rare thing and a sight to behold, and watched with interest. âWhats your problem fatty lah, why canât you sort your grotty life out?â. Benny span round with a speed unimaginable for a unit his size, his sausage fingers dropping their haul of calories and curling into a fist. The mocking, taunting expression on Scouses grid never got chance to change before a fist the size of a country ham impacted the dead centre of his face, making a sound like a cricket ball thrown full pelt into 5 pounds of butter. He flew backwards down the corridor, legs and body parallel to the ground, and crashed to the floor in an unceremonious naked motionless heap. He was snoring soundly before he even hit the floor. Benny shrugged, picked up his crisps, and went back into his room. The porn was on within 30 seconds, and the bed springs were going in under a minute. By the time Scouse woke up in the med centre, we were downtown and on our 9th wobbly, still laughing about it. Strangely however, Scouses taunting of Benny didnât stop. The neat freak would continue to mock and tease our resident stinker, and Scouse twice more ended up in the med centre, both times when he had taken it a bit too far whilst high as a kite. One day over a few pints we asked him about it. âI hate that grotty fucker, you know that. But until I find out which cunt has been jumping me on the way back from Soundgarden, Iâm going to keep taking it out on that fat fuck.â Scousers.