Top lad you. Cheers.

The most despised and rotund RRF Sgt PSI to be foisted on a southern OTC deserving of the nickname "Hamburger", and for whom the rules did not apply.

On arriving at the training area on STANTA was robustly advised not to park his car quite so close to the track, as you know, big trackey stuff comes flying round the bend quite often. And WTF are you doing bringing it onto the training area on Ex anyway...

But the rules don't apply to Hamburger, except maybe the ones written by Physics when a Chally comes over the ridge, cuts the corner a bit short, and that action had an equal and opposite crushing reaction on Hamburger's car. Harsh, but ultimately fair.

Chally driver (who I'm convinced saw the car) Top Lad.

Then a few years later when the TV crews are in Luton filming Air Stellios and the Orange planes, Hamburger rocks up at the check-in desk puffing and sweating like Prince Andy at a New York house party, because the check-in time rules don't apply to him. A little bit of discretion applied to the ground handling staff, until he started gobbing off about how important he was, how important the meeting he was trying to get to was, and how missing it would cost him THREE MILLION QUID (in case everyone didn't hear it) and so the rules don't apply to him.

Sorry Sir, gate's closed, innit.

Top Girl!
 
The most despised and rotund RRF Sgt PSI to be foisted on a southern OTC deserving of the nickname "Hamburger", and for whom the rules did not apply.

On arriving at the training area on STANTA was robustly advised not to park his car quite so close to the track, as you know, big trackey stuff comes flying round the bend quite often. And WTF are you doing bringing it onto the training area on Ex anyway...

But the rules don't apply to Hamburger, except maybe the ones written by Physics when a Chally comes over the ridge, cuts the corner a bit short, and that action had an equal and opposite crushing reaction on Hamburger's car. Harsh, but ultimately fair.

Chally driver (who I'm convinced saw the car) Top Lad.

Then a few years later when the TV crews are in Luton filming Air Stellios and the Orange planes, Hamburger rocks up at the check-in desk puffing and sweating like Prince Andy at a New York house party, because the check-in time rules don't apply to him. A little bit of discretion applied to the ground handling staff, until he started gobbing off about how important he was, how important the meeting he was trying to get to was, and how missing it would cost him THREE MILLION QUID (in case everyone didn't hear it) and so the rules don't apply to him.

Sorry Sir, gate's closed, innit.

Top Girl!
Slight thread drift...

Had a Regular PSI with the TA who took his car to the ranges one weekend, despite orders that NO civilian cars were to be driven onto the range.

PSI rocks up, parks near the firing point and opens car door... at which point...

...a strong gust of wind catches the door and slams it past the stops to hit the front wing of the car. He managed to push it closed again with some effort but the door and wing had some rather interesting dents and ripples in the sheet metal...

...for a while the tittering from the assembled Yeomanry troopers almost drowned out the bad language from the PSI... :)
 
Slight thread drift...

Had a Regular PSI with the TA who took his car to the ranges one weekend, despite orders that NO civilian cars were to be driven onto the range.

PSI rocks up, parks near the firing point and opens car door... at which point...

...a strong gust of wind catches the door and slams it past the stops to hit the front wing of the car. He managed to push it closed again with some effort but the door and wing had some rather interesting dents and ripples in the sheet metal...

...for a while the tittering from the assembled Yeomanry troopers almost drowned out the bad language from the PSI... :)
Very common in northern Scotland, known as a “Shetland dent”.
 
A friend of mine (we'll call him Tim) went off to Scandinavia with his best friend (Tom) to learn how to ski jump and, mainly, to chase Swedish girls. Now, these two are, to all intents and purposes, brothers, but every holiday they had ended up in some sort of altercation.

On the final night they went into town and started talking to two stunning local women. Everything seemed to be going well until the girl Tom seemed to be doing well with said "thank you for a lovely evening, I'd better get home to my husband". Tim, on the other hand, was charming the pants off the other, single, girl. A little while later he went outside for a smoke, and when he went to go back in, the bouncer informed him that the bar was full and he would have to queue.

Tim explained that he'd been there all night and was, in fact, with his friend Tom and a local girl. The bouncer duly rapped on the window to get Tom's attention, and pointed at Tim in a "is this your friend/do you know him" way.

Tom looked, paused, put his arm around the girl and shrugged his shoulders, mouthing "no idea".

Tim stormed back to the hotel (they were in a shared room), checked out and put all their luggage into storage with the exception of their sleeping bags. He then went and unrolled his sleeping badge and went to sleep in the hotel hedge. He was woken up a few hours later by Tom kicking him in the head and saying "you're a dick. Where's my sleeping bag."
 

NI-EX-MEDIC

War Hero
"All the services" are not constrained by mantras, or mandalas or masalas.

You are, quite simply, lying. Your dit never happened, you were called on it.

Happy trails, pardner.
I will stand by that story till the death, I dont need you to believe it happened but one thing is for sure I have got you typing more than normal and not just your grating iritating soundbites. You can not engage in debate but I think im getting you to it.
 

ancient

War Hero
A chum of mine has been very vocal about the fact that he does not share food (marriage and two daughters has softened this stance somewhat). Think "JOEY DOES'NT SHARE FOOOOD!" He's very open about this, to the point where he used to buy an extra plate of chips in the pub for "everyone to share, but these ones on this plate are my chips".

He's a trader, and every now and then brokers would call his team and offer to buy them lunch.

"Sushi please" says my pal. Twenty minutes later sushi turns up. One of his team mates walks up and takes a piece.

"What are you doing?"
"Well, you've got loads, you can't eat all that."
"No, it's my sushi, when I've had mine I'll offer it around, but please don't touch my food."

A week or so later, brokers offer lunch. "Sushi please!"

Same colleague walks up "That looks good" - and takes a piece.

My pal - "FOR FUCKS SAKE" - slams the whole lot in the bin.

"What are you doing?"
"I've told you before, that's mine."
"But you've got loads".
"That's not the point. It's mine, and I'll offer it around when I've eaten what I want. Don't touch my food."

A little while later, lunch offered and "sushi please!"

Same colleague saunters up - "that looks good", and reaches out to grab a piece.
Fork gets slammed straight into his fingers at full pelt.
"What the **** are you doing?!!!!"
"I've told you twice."
I’m with him on that.

I don’t share my food.

I’ll happily share your food.

I just don’t share my food.

It’s not f&cking difficult to understand is it?
 
When Rodney went back to the U.K. on course for several months, he parked his car in a manner that caused the VMs to curse him frequently.
Sqn OC to VMs: “Sgt Joe, we’re doing some fire and rescue training next week, can you rustle up a vehicle for us?”
912B6958-2704-429F-90A5-F242E8AB6B7A.jpeg

Top Lad Joe...
 

BopBopBop

War Hero
I will stand by that story till the death, I dont need you to believe it happened but one thing is for sure I have got you typing more than normal and not just your grating iritating soundbites. You can not engage in debate but I think im getting you to it.
There is risk attatched to doing this but it's not unusual to ask a member of the public seen talking to your suspect to ask what he wanted. Specially if directions are being given (finger pointing seen).

The suspect would have remained under the control of the "invisible" surveillance team who would have directed their back-up (armed troops) to ask the bloke on the street.
 
Years back I worked for the Air bit of Smith Air. For those confused, this was the cover name for the civi airbridge that operated from Luton to BAOR. All the LTN bit was mangled by RAF Movers.

At the time I was also doing the STAB thing and was off on my 2 weeks Watchkeeping / Snow Queen annual camp.

Reported to the Smith Air desk, got pinged as OIC Flight and sat in departures with a tab, brew and the Telegraph crossword. A kerfuffle ensues between the Captain of the aircraft and the overinflated Mover. Said Mover calls in OIC Flight and Captain duly says “Hiya Toastie, hows tricks?” Mover goes off on one at which point I explain a few technicalities on who commands aeroplanes. I then compound the matter by sitting on the flight deck chatting.

Fast forward a few weeks and the inevitable complaint from the Mover comes in “poor example being set, OIC Flight undermining authority of Movers etc”. Top Lad. Nowadays I’d be shot but back then, airline management were less bothered and the matter was duly fucked off.

Further fast forward, add many beers and Captain, self and one of our cabin crew who was bent as a bottle of chips and made a tidy secondary income as a drag queen. Many sherries were bought, Crewing / Rostering Dept were consulted by the Captain and said drag act finds itself on a Trooping Flight.

The day duly arrives and our duty drag queen looks a million dollars, in the words of Arrse, had I not known better, “I would”. “S/He” made a beeline for our hero and the rest is history.

The Mover moved in on the less than subtle come on and moved out quick smart at an indeterminate point later that evening when the hidden extras became evident. Top Lad/Lass.
 
A kerfuffle ensues between the Captain of the aircraft and the overinflated Mover. Said Mover calls in OIC Flight and Captain duly says “Hiya Toastie, hows tricks?” Mover goes off on one at which point I explain a few technicalities on who commands aeroplanes.
indeed!

“Can you count to four?”
”Er, yes?”
“How many bars are there on my shoulder?”
“Er, four?”
“Exactly! And when you have four, then you get to have some say in what happens with my aircraft”
 
indeed!

“Can you count to four?”
”Er, yes?”
“How many bars are there on my shoulder?”
“Er, four?”
“Exactly! And when you have four, then you get to have some say in what happens with my aircraft”
The phrase “don’t confuse your rank with my authority” springs to mind.
 
The phrase “don’t confuse your rank with my authority” springs to mind.
Been down that road a few times, usually only as far as the first junction.

As no doubt have you.
 
The phrase “don’t confuse your rank with my authority” springs to mind.
Indeed, as a Captain I had a Very Senior Officer on a course who was a right PITA. He ran off to the CO (who the VSO outranked by several stages) when I said No to him. I was told by the 2IC who was in the next office that part of the conversation went:
VSO: I blame Captain Devex’s attitude on his obvious lack of education.
CO: Really? He went to a Public School, has a degree, a Masters and better language qualifications than you. I on the other hand left my comprehensive at 16 with no O Levels. However, I am the CO of this unit and I both back and agree with Devex’s decision and if you don’t like it you can talk to the Brigadier...Sir

I heard nothing more from the VSO who continued to be a monumental pen1s
 
Years back I worked for the Air bit of Smith Air. For those confused, this was the cover name for the civi airbridge that operated from Luton to BAOR. All the LTN bit was mangled by RAF Movers.

At the time I was also doing the STAB thing and was off on my 2 weeks Watchkeeping / Snow Queen annual camp.

Reported to the Smith Air desk, got pinged as OIC Flight and sat in departures with a tab, brew and the Telegraph crossword. A kerfuffle ensues between the Captain of the aircraft and the overinflated Mover. Said Mover calls in OIC Flight and Captain duly says “Hiya Toastie, hows tricks?” Mover goes off on one at which point I explain a few technicalities on who commands aeroplanes. I then compound the matter by sitting on the flight deck chatting.

Fast forward a few weeks and the inevitable complaint from the Mover comes in “poor example being set, OIC Flight undermining authority of Movers etc”. Top Lad. Nowadays I’d be shot but back then, airline management were less bothered and the matter was duly fucked off.

Further fast forward, add many beers and Captain, self and one of our cabin crew who was bent as a bottle of chips and made a tidy secondary income as a drag queen. Many sherries were bought, Crewing / Rostering Dept were consulted by the Captain and said drag act finds itself on a Trooping Flight.

The day duly arrives and our duty drag queen looks a million dollars, in the words of Arrse, had I not known better, “I would”. “S/He” made a beeline for our hero and the rest is history.

The Mover moved in on the less than subtle come on and moved out quick smart at an indeterminate point later that evening when the hidden extras became evident. Top Lad/Lass.

Epic dit!! There is nothing better than hearing of a Mover getting their comeuppance.
 
indeed!

“Can you count to four?”
”Er, yes?”
“How many bars are there on my shoulder?”
“Er, four?”
“Exactly! And when you have four, then you get to have some say in what happens with my aircraft”
Slight thread drift, but many moons ago (in KAF or BIA, I forget which) I had the pleasure of flying an absolutely epic Para Regt Col who was the absolutely perfect guest; in the end, and I think to alleviate boredom, he and one of his Captains ended up making brews and ensuring the crew were OK for butties, coffee etc. We got him into the copilot seat and it turned out he was a pretty good pair of hands. I think he eventually made 3*, I bloody well do hope so.
 
Bessbrook, late 70s, there’s a one pip Rodney (the type who wants to know where the “departure lounge” is) in the AAC line hut complaining that his Gazelle is late. The cab arrives and Rodney stamps across the dispersal ready to vent his spleen.. in the pilots seat, with a big grin on his face is the Regimental colonel, keeping his hours up.
The last time i saw him was when I was on scheme playing umpires, he clambered over the tailgate of the Bedford at late o’ clock, flopped in an armchair (yes, very non tac) and demanded a beer...
Top lad.
 
There is risk attatched to doing this but it's not unusual to ask a member of the public seen talking to your suspect to ask what he wanted. Specially if directions are being given (finger pointing seen).

The suspect would have remained under the control of the "invisible" surveillance team who would have directed their back-up (armed troops) to ask the bloke on the street.
Top stuff. Now we have imaginary armed troops swarming the streets of Kew on the word of three cars full of imaginary coppers chasing one carload of swarthy desperadoes sent on a wild goose chase by Captain Gripping-Hands up there.

When do the black helos arrive? I mean never arrive. They weren't there. You saw nothing.

Geez, even Barbara Cartland never came up with such shite romancing.
 

BopBopBop

War Hero
Top stuff. Now we have imaginary armed troops swarming the streets of Kew on the word of three cars full of imaginary coppers chasing one carload of swarthy desperadoes sent on a wild goose chase by Captain Gripping-Hands up there.

When do the black helos arrive? I mean never arrive. They weren't there. You saw nothing.

Geez, even Barbara Cartland never came up with such shite romancing.
The "armed troops" means the "armed cops" in the OP.
You must lead a sheltered life! There's stuff going on all around you.
I had 50yrs of fun.
img036.jpg
 
The "armed troops" means the "armed cops" in the OP.
You must lead a sheltered life! There's stuff going on all around you.
I had 50yrs of fun.
View attachment 435702
I assume that pic was from day 1?

Oh, and you introduced the

back-up (armed troops) to ask the bloke on the street.
I'm not saying these things don't happen. I'm saying if Captain Gripping-Hands wants anyone to believe his "Look At Me, I'm Interesting Too" posts, he's going to need to work on his logical consistency and fantasy terrorist encounters with considerably more diligence than heretofore.
 
The phrase “don’t confuse your rank with my authority” springs to mind.
Also indeed!

As they are civilian bars on my shoulder, my rank is my authority when it comes to my aircraft!

1575844127757.gif
 

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