Useful civilian applications for lessons learnt in the army

Discussion in 'Now That's What I Call NAAFI Bar' started by convoy_cock, Apr 22, 2005.

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  1. I attended a funeral the other day.

    All very sad. He was a very nice bloke, only 37. Found out he was terminally ill and decided to speed up the process by lobbing himself off a tall building in Manchester. We went to his wedding last year, in the same church, so it was a bit of a freak out for all concerned.

    After the service, we drove down to the cemetery and parked up. We were walking up the path in the direction of the crowd assembled round the graveside, when the deceased's brother walked up and said to me,

    "Convoy, can you give us a hand carrying him from the car to the graveside?"

    One of the blokes on the coffin carrying detail was busy preventing the lad's wife from collapsing. I'd never had to do this job before and immediately replied, "Yeah, course."

    I gave our baby to my wife and got myself over to the back of the hearse. Under the direction of the professionally somnolent undertaker, we paired off into three couples of evenly tall guys. I swear to fcuking god, that as we started to lift the coffin from waist height onto our shoulders, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself saying "2...6...LIFT"

    As we stumbled across the grass towards the grave, I was on the back left. I knew we were all out of step. I put up with it, knowing that we looked like a bag of sh-it the whole way. A simple application of lograce methodology would have been perfect for the situation. A gentle jog across the graveyard with me shouting "IN" for each right pace would have got us the hole in no time flat.

    Thinking about it, it would have made the occasion slightly less sombre, if when we got to the graveside, we stood the coffin on end and made the smallest bloke climb on top while we let out a big cheer.

    It's what he would have wanted
     
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  2. Maybe a few firm word of command to the grieving wife from your self would have freed the last pallbearer to do his duties.
     
  3. You could have filled some sandbags with the spoil, watered them, tamped them down with a shovel and been down to stage 3 in a jiffy.

    So how old is the widow and would your mates shoes fit my size ten feet?
     
  4. i can see grave yards all over the country , resounding to the sound of thunderflashes at the back of the hearse , and extra pall bearers running behind with the flowers , until you hear
    " change ..... CHANGE .... I CANT HOLD IT"

    on choosing the coffin...

    "now , would madam like these very fine brass handles , or over here we have a new line just in ...... toggle ropes" :D

    can anyone else think of any situations in civvy street , where an unlikely militairy learnt skill can be put to good use ??
     
  5. My granny popped her clogs about two years ago and her funeral ceremony consisted of a church service followed by a comittal at the crematorium.

    I had little to do with the arrangements as I was working away.

    The morning of the funeral came and the sad realisation that the person I admired the most was no longer with us, to say I was gutted was an understatement.

    I was on the front pew of the church when the coffin was brought to the front, I was fcuking outraged when it was wheeled in on a trolley.

    She was five foot fcuk all and weighed 5 stone with a full bag, I could stick her in a bergan and tab up Ben Nevis with her......

    Instead of listenign to the church service, hymns, speeches and tributes etc I just gave the funeral director and trolley pushers a death stare.

    After the service I got out of church, got in the motor and booted it up to the crem for the long walk and ham sandwich. I got there before the hearse so I could stamp and create and ensure she was carried in for the commital.

    This was done to a pretty good standard considering the pall bearer party consisted of a midget a hunchback and three other pondlifes in Herman Munster coats.

    I like convoy also whispered 2....6 under my breath and tried to keep these misfits in step for the walk to the alter. Just a shame there was no flag to fold and no volley of shots after, she was after all SAS excused boots :D

    All went well from there apart from saying 'what the fcuk' out loud when 'Danny boy' was belted out full blat by a big fat welsh singer directly behind me.

    Anyone recall carrying coffins with crunchy ammo boots on and wondering whether the box would fly open and the contents flying all over the place if you slipped on yer hoop :D
     
  6. What's the "2...6" thing anyway?

    In the Corps most used to lifting really big things, it always seemed to be "prepare to lift...lift UP!!" (up v loud)
     
  7. It would be very easy to get the bloke heights wrong as well. Big blokes at the front and back leaving the midgets in the middle swinging from the handles.

    There is nothing worse than hearing one of the lads shouting.

    "Hold on to it you cu-nts" whilst 15 stone of coffin makes mincemeat of his clavicle.

    One of the other skills I carry with me to this day, is the stealth wa-nk. Years of ten man rooms taught me all the drills necessary to be able to knock one out regardless of the situation. When you think about how creaky those fcuking bunks were, pulling the head off it without anyone noticing was a tricky business. Our entire recruit troop room were very wa-nk-aware. Before I learnt the art, the lad in the bunk below would wait until I were on't vinegars before shouting,

    "I say Convoy, your not having another wa-nk, are you."

    This would then result in an altogether unrewarding pop-shot experience.

    Having a stealth wa-nk was very rewarding but took a safe-crackers nerve. After those first few times, I never got caught again and could thrap in the most unlikely of settings.

    My wife was looking through a magazine in bed the other night and asked me about something she was reading.

    "It says here, that most men masturbate at least once a day. Do you?"

    "Some days yes, some days no."

    She went on reading before stopping and saying.

    "Do you ever wa-nk when i'm in the house."

    "No"

    "Good, it seems daft, when the real thing's on offer."

    "Yeah, your right."

    She went back to finishing the article, whilst I continued with my wa-nk.
     
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  8. RTFQ

    RTFQ RIP

    NoWaah

    Napoleaonic era Gun crew, numbered 1 to 8(?) No's 2 and 6 have the ropes to pull the gun into position after reload. Gun crew commander says "2, 6 Heave" as a command. Nowadays used as a sort of "on three, one, two, three, lift!" sort of thing.

    Buried a mate at a military funeral recently. Top Bloke. All the pallbearers were in service dress and as we did a sort of officer version of the slow march into the church we executed a monty python style funny walk as the metal plates on the tips and heels of our shoes slipped on the polished stone floor of the church. Sheer strength and dignity stopped us from dropping him and apparently we pulled it off in some style as no-one really noticed. One of the tall guys at the back whispered "**** you feckin pie muncher, lose some weight" spent the length of the aisle trying not to laugh, fall over and blub all at the same time.
     
  9. another lesson i have retained for use in civilian life is the ghost walk.

    this is best performed at 03:00 on a saturday morning , keys in one hand , and jacket half off , whilst trying not to alert the "enemy" to your presence.

    a successful ghost walk will result in a peaceful nights unconciousness , followed by a cheery "morning , what time did you get in?"

    a bad one , will result in you attempting the advanced "trousers off with shoes still on" and pulling down the curtains in your bedroom at which point the old schermuly will go up and a prolonged period of tactical questioning will ensue.

    in this instance sticking to the big four may not be wise .... torture will ensue immediately.
     
  10. Very good LostBoss, pmsl at that one.

    Went to a D-1 Antinov charter meeting a year back and the bloke doing health and safety used LOE for the loading winch & TAOR for the ground crew. What a tool he was too!
     
  11. I once attempted to cross deck this skill. Unfortunately and without my knowledge my wife had purchased a couple of trip flares. As I crossed the landing, I set one off. As she legged it out of the room, she caught me trying to pick it up so I could lob it out of the window. Oh how we laughed on the way to the serious burns unit.
     
  12. Following 11 years and 336 days worth of training in the cunning art of blowing the tops off SCAM 12 masts and learning how to be an ambassador for my country, I decided to enter the well respected and widely loved profession of the law.

    I have found two things from my military days that have been of regular use to me; being nicely turned out and being able to shout.

    Being well turned out seems to intimidate many of the damp eyed nancy boys that we have as bosses. They seem to be loath to bollock or Jiff you on the grounds that you are clearly a military psychopath. This is evidenced by the fact that you are not a stranger to Mr. Kiwi and you frequently mutter drill instuctions to yourself.

    Shouting is very useful. Particularly if engaged in a situation during which some public disorder is taking place. Half of the slack cnuts that regard themselves as hard men at losing time don't seem to be able to deal with the peak of yer hat 2mm away from their face and they tend to tootle off like like little lambs.

    Bosses in turn won't bollock you for it on the grounds that you clearly have PTSD and anyhow, they all know you're a military type psychopath...
     
  13. Did you remember to get yer pound back afterwards? :D
     
  14. Yes, the shouting comes in handy. At a very posh wedding recently attended by Mr and Mrs Cuddles, the faggot in charge of banqueting was trying to alert everyone to the imminent arrival of fodder. As everyone was well into sherry number four, hadn't seen each other for yonks and it was a bloody nice day, many had strayed across the grounds of a certain Bishop's Palace in the West Country.

    Embiggened by sherry, I swiftly drew myself up to full height, tapped FICB on the shoulder and said "allow me". I drew a deep breath and in tones that would carry from the North Gun Park to the YOs annex shouted "LISTEN IN...lunch is served!" All of the ex-military guests leapt refelxively two feet into the air. Bride's mother very pleased that expensive grub not to go to waste. Bride less pleased as groom jumped two feet in air and on way down spilled red wine on her dress!! Apparently they still had over half the wedding phots to take as well...Never liked him, she was a bit stuck up her self...smashing piss-up ensued.
     
  15. Had exactly the same thing two years ago at a customers Xmas do where the MD is gayly tapping a glass trying to get the attention of 300 half p1ssed guests. After about 30 seconds of embarrassing "tink, tink" on the glass, his PA asked me (knowing I was ex army seen as I had "warried" myself up whilst trying to get into her knickers) if I could attract the crowds attention.

    My proudest civvy moment, yelling in my best drill voice "LISTEN IN" and, due to my alcohol intake and tempoary time warp into the past, inadvertently adding "STAND STILL, SHUT UP". 300 civvies fell into silence in a marquee, all standing open mouthed and staring at me, all wondering what the fcuk was going on for about 5 seconds before their MD meekly said "Thank you for that AS" and carrying on with his speech.

    I also find the ability to insult and bollock my employees in absolutely outrageous ways, but in such a way that they are never quite sure if I actually mean it or if I am joking, an excellent skill. It was one gladly learned from my last SSM. who, although a complete cnut at times, everyone liked. But we always fcuking listened to him.

    And by far the best skill is the art of skiving. When I first left the instinctive ability to skive and then immediately talk my way out of it if caught (it took me ages to realise that the worst a civvy could do was bollock me and NOT make me run around the car park with a 120mm drill round) served me well. Now, as an employer, I find the civvy employees attempts at skiving both limp and under thought, easily seen through and easily caught out. Who would have thought that those experiences of happy days sleeping off last nights Herfy, Grolsch and Electric Ribena on top of the cam net pile in MT would actually come in useful one day :D