Weak Commanding Officers or fond reminiscing of whorehouses in Portsmouth

Wearing rubber gloves when handling that toxic waste is probably wise. :p
Which is the ARRSEr in the picture though? Are there 2 males shown? So many questions...
 

Guns

ADC
Moderator
Book Reviewer
I once walked back to Dryad from Joanna's.

Yes it is a long way
Yes the hill by QE is really steep
Yes I was pissed
No, not when I arrived at the main gate.
No it wasn't one of my better ideas.
 

Ravers

LE
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
I once walked back to Dryad from Joanna's.

Yes it is a long way
Yes the hill by QE is really steep
Yes I was pissed
No, not when I arrived at the main gate.
No it wasn't one of my better ideas.
I did Emma's to Collingwood once which wasn't a giggle. Jo's to Dryad deserves some sort of special recognition though.

My most epic adventure was when I tried to navigate my way from Prague Junction in Fareham to Collingwood. It's only a mile or two and there is a taxi rank outside, but I decided to walk it one night for shits and giggles. Things had got slightly rowdy in the club, resulting in the arrest of one of my class mates, being the switched on cookie that he is, the lad decided to do a runner from the old bill after he had been cuffed. In the same situation I like to think that I'd find a friendly mate with a hacksaw and free myself with the minimum of fuss and hide for a bit. Unfortunately for my oppo, he was in an advanced stage of refreshment and decided that it would be a good idea to try to get back into the club, hands cuffed behind his back. He queued up patiently but the bouncers nabbed him and he was arrested (again).

Anyway I digress, after my own little ruckuss with the door staff, I was ejected from the establishment and decided that since it was a pleasant evening, I would walk back to base instead of getting a cab. I recall walking along a river or canal somewhere and that's about it. The next thing I remember is waking up under a kiddie's slide in someone's back garden, just as the sun was rising. My jeans were all ripped up and there was a kebab in my shirt pocket, leaking chilli sauce all over my chest. Confused I tried to find a way out of the garden. In the absence of a gate, I hopped the fence into a patch of allotments. As I wandered towards the nearest road I came across a barbed wire fence, clearly I had been here previously, a fact that was evident from the tatters of my jeans which were hanging from the wire.

Completely unsure of where I was and concious of the fact that I had to be at work in an hour, I hailed down the first car and asked the driver to help me out, I handed him a crisp twenty that had not been in my wallet at the start of my adventure, and he drove me back to Collingwood. It took 45 minutes. I have no ******* idea where I had been or why I was in someone's garden.

Good times.
 
I did Emma's to Collingwood once which wasn't a giggle. Jo's to Dryad deserves some sort of special recognition though.

My most epic adventure was when I tried to navigate my way from Prague Junction in Fareham to Collingwood. It's only a mile or two and there is a taxi rank outside, but I decided to walk it one night for shits and giggles. Things had got slightly rowdy in the club, resulting in the arrest of one of my class mates, being the switched on cookie that he is, the lad decided to do a runner from the old bill after he had been cuffed. In the same situation I like to think that I'd find a friendly mate with a hacksaw and free myself with the minimum of fuss and hide for a bit. Unfortunately for my oppo, he was in an advanced stage of refreshment and decided that it would be a good idea to try to get back into the club, hands cuffed behind his back. He queued up patiently but the bouncers nabbed him and he was arrested (again).

Anyway I digress, after my own little ruckuss with the door staff, I was ejected from the establishment and decided that since it was a pleasant evening, I would walk back to base instead of getting a cab. I recall walking along a river or canal somewhere and that's about it. The next thing I remember is waking up under a kiddie's slide in someone's back garden, just as the sun was rising. My jeans were all ripped up and there was a kebab in my shirt pocket, leaking chilli sauce all over my chest. Confused I tried to find a way out of the garden. In the absence of a gate, I hopped the fence into a patch of allotments. As I wandered towards the nearest road I came across a barbed wire fence, clearly I had been here previously, a fact that was evident from the tatters of my jeans which were hanging from the wire.

Completely unsure of where I was and concious of the fact that I had to be at work in an hour, I hailed down the first car and asked the driver to help me out, I handed him a crisp twenty that had not been in my wallet at the start of my adventure, and he drove me back to Collingwood. It took 45 minutes. I have no ******* idea where I had been or why I was in someone's garden.

Good times.
I assume you have already given appropriate thanks that your tattered jeans were also not roughly pulled down in the rear when you awoke as a mute but sobering reminder as to how you acquired that crisp new bill.
 
I assume you have already given appropriate thanks that your tattered jeans were also not roughly pulled down in the rear when you awoke as a mute but sobering reminder as to how you acquired that crisp new bill.
I was wondering that myself. :? Or maybe it was kebab in his pocket? :? Beware of Greeks etc. :p
 
I did Emma's to Collingwood once which wasn't a giggle. Jo's to Dryad deserves some sort of special recognition though.

My most epic adventure was when I tried to navigate my way from Prague Junction in Fareham to Collingwood. It's only a mile or two and there is a taxi rank outside, but I decided to walk it one night for shits and giggles. Things had got slightly rowdy in the club, resulting in the arrest of one of my class mates, being the switched on cookie that he is, the lad decided to do a runner from the old bill after he had been cuffed. In the same situation I like to think that I'd find a friendly mate with a hacksaw and free myself with the minimum of fuss and hide for a bit. Unfortunately for my oppo, he was in an advanced stage of refreshment and decided that it would be a good idea to try to get back into the club, hands cuffed behind his back. He queued up patiently but the bouncers nabbed him and he was arrested (again).

Anyway I digress, after my own little ruckuss with the door staff, I was ejected from the establishment and decided that since it was a pleasant evening, I would walk back to base instead of getting a cab. I recall walking along a river or canal somewhere and that's about it. The next thing I remember is waking up under a kiddie's slide in someone's back garden, just as the sun was rising. My jeans were all ripped up and there was a kebab in my shirt pocket, leaking chilli sauce all over my chest. Confused I tried to find a way out of the garden. In the absence of a gate, I hopped the fence into a patch of allotments. As I wandered towards the nearest road I came across a barbed wire fence, clearly I had been here previously, a fact that was evident from the tatters of my jeans which were hanging from the wire.

Completely unsure of where I was and concious of the fact that I had to be at work in an hour, I hailed down the first car and asked the driver to help me out, I handed him a crisp twenty that had not been in my wallet at the start of my adventure, and he drove me back to Collingwood. It took 45 minutes. I have no ******* idea where I had been or why I was in someone's garden.

Good times.
A fight in Prague Junction, flip me that takes me back a few years, lived in Pompey for a bit, the memories of the mucky duck, et all. I'll have nightmares tonight.
 
I was wondering that myself. :? Or maybe it was kebab in his pocket? :? Beware of Greeks etc. :p
I also neglected to mention that reading Ravers tale of fun (woe?) took me back as I imagine it did you to those wonderful times usually on a Monday afternoon after the First Sergeant had sorted out the morning reports and MP blotter for the weekend. There would then follow a stream of PFCs and LCPLs (the length of which in direct proportion to the proximity to pay day) would begin into my office for their conferences "without coffee" and I would hear tale after tale of very similar events that also included having been late back to barracks or in some other "difficulty" with some murmured explanation at the end as to why I should not impose some punishment.

Ravers has highlighted yet another of those universal attributes of service for all of us, with somewhat of a different perspective on the hi-jinks involved, depending on which side of the desk one was on as the tales were told. ;-)
 

PaddyQ

Clanker
I am a Captain serving in an Infantry Regiment. I am currently employed as a rifle coy 2i/c and i can say that i have never seen such a shambles in my entire life. *Part of the problem the Infantry faces today is that of weak command. *Our CO is a complete buffoon, how this man has risen through the ranks is beyond me, i would make a fine CO - much better than him, all he thinks about is his own career. *He pretends to care for the soldiers under his command but uses them simply for his own gain. *He does not know how to get the best out of his troops. *He is weak and spineless, letting them walk all over him and ridicule the chain of command. *He is surrounded by toadies who pander to his every whim and do not have the balls to stand up and act like real officers. *It drives me mad to think of the way they are ruining the Regiment. *The soldiers see right through the charade, at least they respect and fear me, instead of laughing at some of my fellow officers. I pity the future of the Army.


If your soldiers fear you, then I doubt if you've got their respect.
 

Fezzick

War Hero
[/COLOR]

If your soldiers fear you, then I doubt if you've got their respect.
I've always been taught that soldiers respect NCOs because they're the bigger fish and they're afraid of them but want to make them proud; officers have a completely different way of gaining respect because they're so different to the majority of their soldiers (better educated, often socially different with a different accent, plus it would take a hugely long time for a soldier to reach their position) based around being respected as professionals and as people. NCOs need this as well but they also need to be able to scare the shit out of a squaddie when required.
 

Guns

ADC
Moderator
Book Reviewer
Err excuse me this thread is for deprived Matelots to regale stories of woe from times past. Don't be fooled by the title and early attempts of sensibility.
 

Bouillabaisse

LE
Book Reviewer
Err excuse me this thread is for deprived Matelots to regale stories of woe from times past. Don't be fooled by the title and early attempts of sensibility.
And the fact that the OP put that up in 2002 and is unlikely to be looking in again any time soon.

I get to pompey occasionally for work. What's replaced Joanna's as the matelots' run ashore?
 

Guns

ADC
Moderator
Book Reviewer
Gunwharf and its bars I think, but I am a crusty old two and a half who only gets the odd pink chit.
 

Ravers

LE
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
Err excuse me this thread is for deprived Matelots to regale stories of woe from times past. Don't be fooled by the title and early attempts of sensibility.
Hear hear.

I believe Flares in Guildhall is probably the closest one has to Jo's these days. Gunwharf is OK but it's a little too upmarket for the taste of most matelots. Tiger Tiger is good for trapping students but that's about it. Personally my perfect Pompey run ashore, is a few jars in the Mucky Duck then working my way backwards to Flares via Bar Me, Walkabout and that place on the corner that changes ownership every five minutes. Then it's a kebab from the place opposite Yate's and a taxi to the Ibis with whatever horror I have managed to trap. If I can give that tramp under the railway bridge a bit of shit or fight a student all the better.

Obviously on Wednesdays it's all about trying to get gays to buy you sticky wets in Martha's.
 
Hear hear.

I believe Flares in Guildhall is probably the closest one has to Jo's these days. Gunwharf is OK but it's a little too upmarket for the taste of most matelots. Tiger Tiger is good for trapping students but that's about it. Personally my perfect Pompey run ashore, is a few jars in the Mucky Duck then working my way backwards to Flares via Bar Me, Walkabout and that place on the corner that changes ownership every five minutes. Then it's a kebab from the place opposite Yate's and a taxi to the Ibis with whatever horror I have managed to trap. If I can give that tramp under the railway bridge a bit of shit or fight a student all the better.

Obviously on Wednesdays it's all about trying to get gays to buy you sticky wets in Martha's.
Are you still earning those crisp new 20s and waking up in back gardens? ;-)
 
All the real lavatories such as Beasties, Jo's, Granny's, the Hilsea Lido, have gone. Martha's is a bit of a case apart, as it remains sans pareil for the discerning gentleman seeking to end the night tie wrapped naked across a wheely bin and gagged with a pair of faeces encrusted bikini style briefs - Ravers. :biggrin:
 

urdygurdy

Old-Salt
i wonder what they did,with the carpet in joannas,must have taken some getting up,because it was so sticky on the top.
 

Ravers

LE
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
i wonder what they did,with the carpet in joannas,must have taken some getting up,because it was so sticky on the top.
I heard they rung it out and used the liquid to heat Hampshire.
 

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