trophies of war

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by laza, Apr 11, 2009.

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  1. right, on this fine saturday morning i decided i would bring up a subject very close to my heart.

    as a single squaddie, being of good physical fitness, chiselled features, and the prowess a lion would be proud of, i routinely engage in the army wide passtime of drinking till i spew, and then making a well planned and tactical move on the best looking girl who is no longer able to keep both eyes open and is usually in the corner talking to the 'token old guy' in the bar.

    after engaging in a conversation where we both are unable to hear, and often are not even remotely on the same subject, i of course assert my position of 'alpha male' by communicating i wish to make her my mate by writing 'i want to do you behind the kebab shop' in whatever local bar snack is available on the bar.

    after being invited back to the abode of said fair mayden, i of course engage in combat with the beautiful part of said female that resembles a kebab that has been runover by some sort of industrial frieght train.

    up until now, i hear you saying 'this is both normal, and to be encouraged'

    now once said deed is over, and several minutes of loving that ron jeremy would be proud of, it comes time for me to disappear into the night with a slightly mysterious air, walking away like the end of a bad 50's movie.

    of course, i cannot leave unaccompanied, that would be not fitting for a gentleman of my social standing.

    at first, something small was enough. a book, a photo, something easily concealed, and not missed. over time this has escalated. my stash of trophies now includes kettles, plants, the odd birthday and christmas card.

    i put it to the immense wisdom of arrse, and ask those more experienced in this art, to share their secrets.

    every gentleman has done it, now lets hear it.
  2. thieving pikey :D
  3. That's a bit greedy, especially when you consider she's already given you all those crabs.
  4. It used to be there knickers..... and if they hadn't been wearing any I would raid there underwear drawer and take a pair...

    Also got a watch once, don't ask!
  5. A kettle! That's just burglary not trophy hunting.
    Now, walking away with last night's knickers is a legitimate trophy. I quite often used to take the minge cover of my conquests. I realised that I had probably grown too old for the habit when my trophy collection began looking decidedly like Bridget Jones' knicker drawer!
  6. Underwear was my favourite.

    Although I did relieve a certain lady in Poole of her Hamster on my way out. To be fair if the bloody thing hadn't been so noisey in the small hours of the night I may never have known it was there!
  7. Pubic hair.
  8. I pulled this tramp once and she only had a short dress and a skimpy top

    as I was leaving the B and B early the next morning she said

    will you ever keep the fcuking noise down

    so I promptly stole her skimpy top- to this day i can picture her heading home in a pillow case- bitch

    I also unbeknowst stole some of her pubic lice
    but that wasnt as funny as her skimpy top
  9. So which one are you - Dashing Chap or Dishing Chips and what did you nick from Jarrod's place? :wink:
  10. On a cold Rosenmontag in Aachen while under the affluence of inkahol,was literally kidnapped by a well built german matron, who took me home and plied me with unspeakable drink like mariacron and wacholder shandies and a just a wee bit of rumpy pumpy, waking at 4 am next to a thing best described as Bernard Manning with Pubes, who informed me calmly her husband a Customs officer was just walking up stairs to the flat, So out of bed, grab clothes, run onto balcony in socks and shreddies, without thinking jump into garden below,shit it was two and a half floors up, looked for some where to get dressed, shock , horror I had grabbed Frau whatsernames bright orange flaired trousers , I must have looked a right pillock, but I got home with my souvenir 8) theguys from the job were just leaving for work, one of the gits took my photo, which was the source of mirth and piss taking for many years to come :lol:
  11. I've been know to rummage through a females dhobi bin to find some worn pants. Unpon finding some, they would then be returned in disgust, and the rummaging would continue until the dirtiest pair available was found. I've built up quite a collection, all kept in individual (I can't stress this point enough) sealable sandwich bags, who all lived happily secreted away at the top of the airing cupboard - to brew. I'd liken it to Claude Oscar Monet's life's works, and such a fantastic array of colours. I'm not talking about the fabric.
  12. I am the proud owner of a Titanium SA6 Goa's lead guide fin which was leathermined off a missile carrier in Poland after a wee Polish Lassie wanted to show how big her weapons were.
    I really wanted her boots and fur hat but they were stinkin, it's fkin amazing that you can't smell odours below freezing
  13. It USED to be until the invention of the "camera phone".

    The BEST trophy by far now is the sneaky camera shot of your old man dissapearing into her doggy style. If she has a distinctive "slag tag", then the deal is absolutely done.

    What better trophy can there be than one you can carry into the boozer the next day? As most chicks have the aforementioned back tattooed slag tag on display, there can be no doubt as you show all of your mates the evidential picture. Especially if she is fit but has a hairy arse.

    Failing that, knickers are sooooo last century. For this millenia, you need an Ipod or better still, an Iphone, especially if she is a particularly filthy wh0re as you can guarantee there will be home made porn on it.
  14. Camera phones weren't even invented when I was doing most of my freestyle shagging, which was actually last century, when I was single. :lol:

  15. As has been stated, there were no ipods or mobile phones small enough to nick when I was acquiring the ladies underslips.

    It was last millenia yes, but it was so much better. Nicking an Ipod... you fooking tink.