The cult of the Tight Bas-tard

#1
Thinking further on from the thread about ‘c-unt still owes me a tenner,’ I was chatting with a mate last night about another denizen of society, The Tight Bas-tard.
I have known hundreds of Tight Bas-tards over my 41 years and I love the fcukers.
They make for brilliant entertainment, as they wheel and deal their way through life, devoting all their efforts into saving a few pence on a round or a taxi ride, all the while assuming their mates didn’t have them pegged from day one.

Of course, the stinking, beanstealing pad is just one sub-species of the genus. Oh how we used to scream with laughter when a couple of bog rolls would fall out of the bottom of a combat jacket on troop knock off or shake our heads in disgust as buckshee compo was hovered up out the back of the troop stores, only to find it’s way into a kids packed lunch for the next day!!

The pleasure to be derived from tormenting Tight Bas-tards in a pub, is worth putting up with their pennypinching ways.
I’ve known a lad for years, who has turned round dodging into a degree course. He’s fcuking brilliant at it and employs every single trick in the book. We’ve all studied him down the years and every now and again one of the lads will say, “Fcuking hell, that was a new one!!!” As time’s gone on, some of them have asked why we haven’t ditched the stingy cu-nt, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Watching him covering his wallet like a kid trying to stop someone copying their homework, whilst he winkles out a motheaten tenner to get a round in, when he’s finally been cornered, draws untold satisfaction. The joy of seeing the shock on his face when you say, “Get us a bag of crisps while you’re up there, mate!!!” is worth getting seen off for a pint every now and again. Like all Tight Bas-tards, he’s not short of a bob, he’s just a little bit mentally ill. He sweeps his hand in the trough of the fruity every time he walks past, on the off chance he’ll find 10p. He’s always managed that impressive gear change that only the true Tight Bas-tard can pull off, wherein, he’s first out of the cab but last into the pub.
I remember going in to a boozer with him and three other mates about ten years ago. He stopped to tie his lace just as we were going in the door. One of the other lads started laughing and pointed at his feet,
“They’re Velcro straps, Dave”
Fcuker didn’t bat and eyelid…..
“Oh, I know, they’ve lost some of their stickiness. You go on ahead, mine’s a Stella!!!”

If you’ve got Tight Bas-tard mates, don’t shun them, torment the cu-nts, it’s a lot more rewarding.
 
#2
On returning from Op Occulus a few years ago, our MFO boxes were subjected to the usual RMP search for contraband. On hearing the rather loud comment of "Fuck me Sir! Are you setting up your own business?" I was gladdened to see a red-faced WO2 stood next to a growing mountain of cheap, pink Balkans Basic Range toilet roll which was appearing from his MFO box.

"I'm using it as packing" was his excuse.

Ritchie, you geeky cunt, the bog roll was more expensive than the 'Neek' trainers they were protecting. You pikey twat.
 

jarrod248

LE
Gallery Guru
#3
Being careful with money gets passed down the generations. My Grandad I never saw spend any money at all, he was so tight he never gave my Grandma housekeeping he paid her board. My Dad if he gets a hole in his slippers he repairs them with a patch for a car inner tube. The look in his eyes when he's given himself chronic diarrhoea through eating a massive crop of gooseberries, but saved some money is a delight.
The year we went on holiday and fetched 13 sacks of spuds from a farmers field and him almost wanking because he'd saved so much cash. We went for a lovely day trip once to the moors or so we thought, in reality it was to go collect sheep shit for his allotment.
Anyway almost my lunchtime and i'll go and have 1/2 oz of cheese on toast thinly sliced with butter and i'll wash up with half a sink of hot water.
 
#4
WHen I came out of hospital after getting a new arm my mate put me up, "Mates rates" he said...

After 3 months I said, tell you what invoice me for what I owe you.

750 quid a month for a room with a bed, 1/3 of all the bills and...............3/12s of the TV licence!! What a cunt

He was so tight he turned his garage into a bedroom and put another mate in it
 
#5
WHen I came out of hospital after getting a new arm my mate put me up, "Mates rates" he said...

After 3 months I said, tell you what invoice me for what I owe you.

750 quid a month for a room with a bed, 1/3 of all the bills and...............3/12s of the TV licence!! What a cunt

He was so tight he turned his garage into a bedroom and put another mate in it
And obviously he had no idea about maths. 3/12ths FFS.
 
#6
Terribly sorry, Sgt Maj, I appear to have left my wallet at home. Would you mind, awfully?
 
#7
One tight sod used to 'forget' to get beer in for matches on the telly. He'd ask to 'borrow' some, drink 8 of someone's Stella or Bass, then make a big deal about 'replacing' it, invariably with Tesco Value Beer-Style Alcohol Drink rat piss. We did try 'lending' it back to him, but he'd just sit there with the filth, looking at other people's glasses and asking 'what does that taste like then' and 'how about a swap?'
 
#8
And let's not forget those who give up smoking at the start of a long exercise.
 
#9
Many years ago in that shitty pub opposite the Chinky in Catterick (Can you tell I'm shit with names?) a mate handed over a short with a cheery 'Here you go mate!'

'I don't drink shorts' says I, 'What is it anyway?'
'Vodka & Orange' came the reply
I had as sip and it tasted surprisingly like orange and fuck-all else.
'Not much Vodka in this' I whinged
'Mine's alright' he mused

We quickly quoffed but I suddenly said I'll get one in before we hit the Scorpion (Can you tell how long ago it was?)
Me, being a suspicious twat asked the bar-thing if I could get another round, she luckily remembered us.
She pulled two of those crappy Britvic Oranges from the fridge and poured them both but only put vodka in one.

'It was 2 V & O's?' I ask.
'No love, just one, your mate said you were driving'

I don't mind a tight-bastatd but not at my expense.
Dave, you know who you are!!
 
#10
And let's not forget those who give up smoking at the start of a long exercise.
Bastards! A pox on their parents!

I smoke rollies so have spent many a 'five minute fag break' rolling for a procession of the 'sorry-mate-can-you-do-me-one-I'll-see-you-right-when-we-get-back' brigade.

Amazing how tight you have to roll a paper around a single strand of Old Holborn.....
 
#11
Yup, come across these f**kers in the 1960s in Germany. Wouldn't buy a round in the NAFFI....we called them "POSB C*nts" (POSB as in Post Office Saving Book). Or, one senior Corporal in the Troop who would borrow a five or ten DM note... then conveniently forget that he had borrowed it. He must have 'borowed' hundreds of DM over a period of years and not paid it back... He was a dribbling muppet when he had a good drink in him, and f**king bully, especially to new young soldiers posted to the unit..... F**cking W*nka.... Cpl M**n .... the C*nt is probably dead now....no doubt drank hisself to death.....
 

Ravers

LE
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
#12
The tight bastard is well known in the senior service too. He will always jump in on a round from the fridge even when he is duty, he will save up all the cans and stash them in his locker to drink at a later date. Other characteristics of the tight bastard include the wearing of as much issue kit as feasibly possible and trying to pass it off as civvy attire. Issue socks, deck shoes with Primark jeans and even shirts with the epaulettes hastily removed adorn the tight bastard's locker. He never has his own toiletries and manages to complete an entire 9 month deployment by 'borrowing' a squirt of toothpaste or a dash of shower gel here and there. He sells his Paradigm phone card credits to the married lads and even charges people to go to the NAAFI for them while they are on watch. Eventually, during the mess run ashore, the tight bastard somehow is left in charge of the kitty, inevitably the cash runs out after just a few drinks with tight bastard making up some feeble excuse as to where it went, when the maths don't add up, tight bastard is given a shoeing and gets transferred to a different unit a few days later without paying his beer and laundry bills.
 
T

trowel

Guest
#13
Being careful with money gets passed down the generations. My Grandad I never saw spend any money at all, he was so tight he never gave my Grandma housekeeping he paid her board. My Dad if he gets a hole in his slippers he repairs them with a patch for a car inner tube. The look in his eyes when he's given himself chronic diarrhoea through eating a massive crop of gooseberries, but saved some money is a delight.
The year we went on holiday and fetched 13 sacks of spuds from a farmers field and him almost wanking because he'd saved so much cash. We went for a lovely day trip once to the moors or so we thought, in reality it was to go collect sheep shit for his allotment.
Anyway almost my lunchtime and i'll go and have 1/2 oz of cheese on toast thinly sliced with butter and i'll wash up with half a sink of hot water.
I believe every word . People call the Jocks tight, but the most miserable, penny pinching, skinflints on this planet are Yorkshiremen.
 
#14
Isn't the definition of a Yorkshireman "a Jock with all the generosity kicked out of him?"

Yorkshire and proud-Gods County! :)
 
#15
Nancy McKinnon. There was the tightest cunt I've ever come across. I had to come across it, too tight for...???? Oh, I seem to have picked this up the wrong way. :oops:
 
#17
Fuck's sake you need to give the poor girl some foreplay!;-)
It's hard to get a romantic ambiance going when she's caked in black nasty.......
 
#18
Fuck's sake you need to give the poor girl some foreplay!;-)
She was gagged and tied up, I'd have thought that would've turned her on.
 
#19
Isn't the definition of a Yorkshireman "a Jock with all the generosity kicked out of him?"

Yorkshire and proud-Gods County! :)
No Yorkshiremen are like the Scots without the generosity.

One of my mates is the "first in the pub, last to the bar" types. Aren't you Rich?

Back in the day, 3 of us used to go to the pub for a few pints during the week, nothing heavy.
My other mate would always drive as he lived miles away, but he'd always pick me and Rich up and drop us home at the end of the night.
So I said he never had to buy a round as he was using his petrol all the time. He'd only have one pint then drink Coke anyway. Rich was not amused by this set up, more rounds he had to pay for. Yeah right.

Generally we'd always have 3 rounds, and I'd always be lumbered with the first and last round, Rich getting the second. Doesn't sound a lot but we'd go out maybe twice a week doing this. So every week I'm paying for 4 pints of beer, and 2 cokes more than him. Over a year that's 208 pints of beer and 104 cokes. That shit adds up, son.

Every now and then I'd stitch him up though. Walk in the pub, order the round, then as they're being poured, turn to Rich and say "You can get them in. I'm off for a piss." His face would fall and he'd visibly pout. The tight cunt.

He'd get me back though later in the night. He'd drink quicker so that we could get 4 rounds in. If I or our other mate wanted to go any earlier he'd have a slight paddy about how "it's not fair. I've bought two rounds, you've only bought one".

He's well known by all our mates and his work colleagues as being tighter than a camels arse in a sandstorm.
 

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