The Smokingest bloke in the unit

Who was the smokingest bloke in your unit?

I'm not on about your 60 a day lads or even people who could go through a couple of lighters a week. To be the smokingest bloke in your unit, you had to be capable of "Smoking beyond predictable human consumption"

The one at our place was called Gilly and he used to smoke all the fcuking time. The lads reckoned he could work his way through a duty free 200 box in less than two days. Whenever we were on a course and the instructor knocked us off for a fag break, he would be sparking up as the bloke was saying "Right, lads. If you want to take a quick 5 minutes." He'd be putting his third out on the sole of his boot as the guy started talking again.

This was all as nothing compared to his night time routine though. I had the misfortune of sharing a room with him for a year, and I used to marvel at his consumption levels. He'd puff away all night, only stopping to hockle up the occasional bit of black cauliflower cheese. He'd have his last 'post thrap tab' at about 11 and then get his noodle down. Being a studious sort of chap, i'd often stay up late with just my side light on, cracking on with some book or other. This pastime often presented the treat of watching Gilly wake up, on the dot, at 1am to spark up what he called his 'ulcer tamer.' He'd have his fag and then go straight back to sleep. I'd nodded off one night and woke up to see him sat in the window, having his tamer. It was an incredible sight. Backlit by the moon, the wisps of smoke rising from his fingers, he looked like something out of a French black and white film. The effect was only spoiled by the sight of his left spud hanging out the bottom of his Johnny Fartpants boxer shorts.

I always used to get up before him and considered it a great treat to be in position when his alarm clock went off. I'd sit on the end of my bed and hear him groan, before his sh-itly tattooed arm would emerge weakly from under his duvet and rummage around on his side locker. Once the Benny Hedgehogs and lighter were located, his arm would disappear beneath his quilt again and he'd get his burn going. Freshly lit up, his head would then emerge and he'd wink at me and say

"Best fcuking cig of the day, mate."

He'd then fcuk off, in the bollocky bufters towards the ablutions. His ability to shave and smoke simultaneously was a vision in coordination.

His justification for smoking so much was two-fold. One it kept his ulcers down to a gentle throb and two, it stopped him putting on weight. He used his Grandad as an example of the second benefit. Without a touch of irony, he used to say to me.

"Aa'll tell thee convoy. Me grandad smoked 80 a day for 67 years and it always kept him skinny. He only weighed 4 stone 3 lbs when they buried him."

"What did he die of?"


"Of what?"

"The fcuking lot"

Gilly, I salute you.
oh mate, i shared a room with a bloke when i first got to Tidworth who was a one man F*cking smoke screen, he had fingers like a serial skiffer and spoke like he was gargling oysters... he to would blindly grasp aroung for his fags first thing in the morning, and i swear i dont know how we didn't all end up like that bloke in the "dont smoke in bed kids" video as he would actually spark up under his quilt for a first "ultra hit" of the day.

i wouldn't mind being marooned on a desert island with him because the bloke ALWAYS had something that would burn, and i've seen him light fags and keep them going at full tilt in a rigid raider in a rough swell, in a torrential downpour complete with force 3 winds and even during a f*cking blizzard ... pure white out apart from the cherry end of his tab.

on the porton down battle run he mastered the "quick lug in a chemical enviroment" his ressie used to fill up with smoke then disappear as he inhaled, to be ejected from the side of his mask in a big rattling rasp of "FAGS FAGS FAGS"

on sports afternoons we'd jog down to the footie field and he'd have a tab on the trot , and always went in goal .... fag dangling from the corner of his mouth.

he was a confirmed tailor made man but would often revert to baccy if times were hard, we knew when this was the case as more often than not he'd torch his 'tache trying to get one last hit out of a rollie the size of a toddlers cock.

as a non smoker, i was one of his designated "mules" whenever we went on tour, and the bottom of his locker had that many 200 boxes of benno's in the bottom it looked like he'd been a part of the brinks mat raid ... he used to get a flap on when he was down to his last 1000, and start sniffing around for more snout.... gawd bless him ....
Gilly is still alive and well. His skin has that papyrus look of the 100 a day man and his hair has strange, straw like qualities, but he's still going strong.

He had a major social upheaval in 1992 when he migrated from Benny Hedgehogs to Superking Javelins. Despite the fact that they were easily six inches long, Gilly could get one down to the stub, with three vacuum like pulls from his petrified lungs.

He was one of those blokes who was endowed with the superhuman talent of stubbing his fags out by the simple mechanism of rubbing the lit end between thumb and forefinger. His thumb nail looked like a black plectrum and the pad of his finger looked like the bell end of Tutankhamun's c-ock.

I was always a boozy smoker, and would occasionally stumble round the NAAFI, bumming cigs off the regulars when the fancy took me. If I ever asked for one off Gilly, he would fcuk me off at the high port, taking some sore of lop sided offence, that a lightweight like me would try and crib a grout from him.

"Nay, lad" he'd say, patting his top left shirt pocket, "These b-uggers have a higher calling."
BFG 9000 said:
EXBQMS said:
anyone remember dogsbreath from 2nd
2nd billet from the end on the left of the parade square?
Is that the proper abbreviated unit title?
Presumably 2ND = 2nd Battalion The Naked Dancers? :lol:
What Dogsbreath big guy had lots of hair smoked a fair bit wore Green kit

Nope never heard of the bloke


Kit Reviewer
Argh, dogsbreath the smoker! I remember him like yesterday, lots of hair, but short and neat. Used to wear black boots and shaved a lot too. Dogsbreath, the can has openned and the worms are wriggling!
had a lass in a TA unit i was familiar with, every time there was a blank ex she would do the body searching thing and of course would go thru the pockets of the enemy for intel, ciggs and so on..... her aim was to smoke as much of her stolen booty before the enemy were resurected to collect their weapons and lifted kit... smoked every where she could until she got dumped by her other half as she was coughing up black stuff and he was finally put off...
When I tipped up to my first unit in Germany I was shown around the place and introduced to a few people. One of who went by the somewhat unoriginal name of ‘Geordie’, to differentiate between him and other Geordies he was known far and wide as Geordie the Beagle.

Geordie the Beagle was a devout Embassy No 1 man; every thing else was ‘fooking shite’ unless he had run out of No1 (a very rare occurrence) when he would employ his hierarchy of cigarettes:

1) Embassy No 1.
2) Benny Hedgehogs.
3) Rothmans.
4) Anything else British.
5) Boxhead Benny Hedgehogs.
6) Anything else Boxhead.
7) The longest stubs he could find in ashtrays.
8 ) Shite rolled in newspaper.

He was only about 25 years old but he looked 60, deep set eyes sunken cheeks and more wrinkles than an elephant’s scrotum. Apart from beer, he never had any money for the finer things in life (whores, cars and frikadllas) everything was invested in his hobby and that hobby was smoke the tobacco output of Virginia.

His first question to anyone being posted in was - ‘So yower the new blurk – do ya fooking smurk tabs like?’ Smokers were largely ignored as in his nicotine befuddled brain he somehow saw them as ‘competition’. But non-smokers, especially nig non-smokers, he was all over like a peodo in a playground. He became their bestest mates for a couple of days which gave him just enough time to get his brown stained mitts on their ration card after which his only interaction with them was A) to get hold of their next card and B) to stop them starting to smoke – which of course would have damaged his supply.

Although this was 25 years ago (if he is alive, he will now look 356 ) I can still vividly recall the disturbing rattle his chest made when he was forced to anything more physical than nip to the NAAFI for another carton of his red stripped beauties.

Where is he now? – If he is not deader than a dead thing he should be helping medical science discover why and how he has lived this long.
BlackHand said:
Geordie the Beagle was a devout Embassy No 1 man; every thing else was ‘fooking shite’ unless he had run out of No1 (a very rare occurrence) when he would employ his hierarchy of cigarettes:

1) Embassy No 1.
2) Benny Hedgehogs.
3) Rothmans.
4) Anything else British.
5) Boxhead Benny Hedgehogs.
6) Anything else Boxhead.
7) The longest stubs he could find in ashtrays.
8 ) Shite rolled in newspaper.
He obviously has taste anyway!!! Less for No 3, 7 and 8. I would rather go for Silk Cut. Or even Marlborough Lights!!!

Now Canadian Benny Hedgehogs are completely different. They are a strange world of their own, and you need to smoke 45 of of them in one sitting to get the same effect an Embassy No 1 does.

That's just my view.
Tango34_UK said:
Embassy No1 The Soldiers Ciggie... :)
I disagree, L+B silver has been the weapon of choice for the majority of smokers that i know for about 5 years (myself included untill i gave up last year)
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