Welbexian Officers

Not that one. This one is also RLC, never married, but has shagged many soldiers.
Trying to narrow it down...but that description doesn't do much. If they were at 1 or 2 LSR 2007-2009 I'll probably have met them. Any chance of a name via PM? No worries if not.
 
Thankfully, some humour has defused the more obvious class-cretinism of the usual suspects here - I, and a few other of the contributors in these parts was a former Public School and Highly Privileged Gentleman Soldier, and although brutally expelled from RCB - a large and potato-faced Irish Guards Sergeant mostly responsible for the physical aspects of that - went on to pursue a modest career in the Intelligence Corps. Subsequent travails have returned a reasonable outcome in my case; outstanding grades in 'pomposity' and 'arrogance' as evidence.

The essential point is that a 'career', as explained to me by the moustachio'd former Brigadier at the Public Schools Appointments Bureau, is about the achievement at the end of it. He thought it meant 'rank', when in truth it meant 'cash'; social acceptance has changed in its very nature every year since 1066, and it'll change every month from this days' date (some 'rap' artist's going to stand for President of the USA, I see). Nobody's really concerned now that seniority in social rank means having your personal space at the end of the pub's bar, but cash; the world's more concerned about other things; how many 'friends' you have on facebook or LinkedIn, for instance.

I would have given my ...er, left foot for a place at Welbeck, but was thick enough to have never condered the possibility. Thick enough, possibly, to have thought that the Intelligence Corps was a better choice than commerce, and all of the bags of cash that could have given me.

Now I'm sad, and shall drink Laphroaig.
 
Thankfully, some humour has defused the more obvious class-cretinism of the usual suspects here - I, and a few other of the contributors in these parts was a former Public School and Highly Privileged Gentleman Soldier, and although brutally expelled from RCB - a large and potato-faced Irish Guards Sergeant mostly responsible for the physical aspects of that - went on to pursue a modest career in the Intelligence Corps. Subsequent travails have returned a reasonable outcome in my case; outstanding grades in 'pomposity' and 'arrogance' as evidence.

The essential point is that a 'career', as explained to me by the moustachio'd former Brigadier at the Public Schools Appointments Bureau, is about the achievement at the end of it. He thought it meant 'rank', when in truth it meant 'cash'; social acceptance has changed in its very nature every year since 1066, and it'll change every month from this days' date (some 'rap' artist's going to stand for President of the USA, I see). Nobody's really concerned now that seniority in social rank means having your personal space at the end of the pub's bar, but cash; the world's more concerned about other things; how many 'friends' you have on facebook or LinkedIn, for instance.

I would have given my ...er, left foot for a place at Welbeck, but was thick enough to have never condered the possibility. Thick enough, possibly, to have thought that the Intelligence Corps was a better choice than commerce, and all of the bags of cash that could have given me.

Now I'm sad, and shall drink Laphroaig.
Did you get flogged and buggered at Public School, or have things changed since Harry Flashman and Tom Browns day.
 
Did you get flogged and buggered at Public School, or have things changed since Harry Flashman and Tom Browns day.
Mine was a Character-Building school; out on the mountains or loch at weekends, and public services after classes and on Wednesdays. Fire, Emergency (pronounced: EmerGentsy), Ambulance, Loch Rescue and Forestry services were tremendously valuable to the local Community, which was spread far and few between in the bleak Highlands - more than a few lives and limbs were saved. There was far too little time for buggery and flogging in between the cold showers and maths. I'd have been up for both (on the sado- side, if they'd been available), but sadly not.

We had a couple of Generals, politicos and industry leaders in my class, but none of the buggers would ever give me a reference; maybe their bums were still sore.
 
Mine was a Character-Building school; out on the mountains or loch at weekends, and public services after classes and on Wednesdays. Fire, Emergency (pronounced: EmerGentsy), Ambulance, Loch Rescue and Forestry services were tremendously valuable to the local Community, which was spread far and few between in the bleak Highlands - more than a few lives and limbs were saved. There was far too little time for buggery and flogging in between the cold showers and maths. I'd have been up for both (on the sado- side, if they'd been available), but sadly not.

We had a couple of Generals, politicos and industry leaders in my class, but none of the buggers would ever give me a reference; maybe their bums were still sore.
Did your predecessors get to bully a future monarch in waiting?
 
They must have been high flyers then to have reached that rank before the age of 18. Did you have a CCF?
CCF? I spit. Mountain Rescue was for real men (I was in the Emergency Service, because we had an old Morris Artillery Quod and an Austin Champ to play with).

It wasn't at all obvious what the futures would be for those figures; One now owns a vast empire of jewellery outlets, and one (I may have mentioned it before, as the brute refused to help me cheat at maths) is a now-retired DSF and General.
 

Oyibo

LE
Mine was a Character-Building school; out on the mountains or loch at weekends, and public services after classes and on Wednesdays. Fire, Emergency (pronounced: EmerGentsy), Ambulance, Loch Rescue and Forestry services were tremendously valuable to the local Community, which was spread far and few between in the bleak Highlands - more than a few lives and limbs were saved. There was far too little time for buggery and flogging in between the cold showers and maths. I'd have been up for both (on the sado- side, if they'd been available), but sadly not.

We had a couple of Generals, politicos and industry leaders in my class, but none of the buggers would ever give me a reference; maybe their bums were still sore.
I'm pretty sure we went to the same school. Now closed down
 
I'm pretty sure we went to the same school. Now closed down
Sadly the market declined and it went into administration; the fall came after they allowed wimmin in. As a Potts man, we Never Surrendered, though. ("Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do..."
(Someone keep @Gravelbelly out of this thread as the sniggering would become unbearable.)
 

Oyibo

LE
Sadly the market declined and it went into administration; the fall came after they allowed wimmin in. As a Potts man, we Never Surrendered, though. ("Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do..."
(Someone keep @Gravelbelly out of this thread as the sniggering would become unbearable.)
Dall and Mountain Rescue for me - the true hard man's combination ;-)
 
Dall and Mountain Rescue for me - the true hard man's combination ;-)
Dall were regarded as those of us on more savage and unruly outskirts as usually being in that house as they needed to be closer to Matron, who in my time resembled Hattie Jacques in many ways.
 

Oyibo

LE
Dall were regarded as those of us on more savage and unruly outskirts as usually being in that house as they needed to be closer to Matron, who in my time resembled Hattie Jacques in many ways.
Nonsense. Potts provided the model for Robertson; Dall shagged anything in Robertson.
 
'Robertson' was after my time, or just being born as I left, I think. 'Croft' was the weird pre-school House for kiddiwinks, as I recall; Dall probably did shag some of them (we're back to 'buggery' here. Never in my time, and not in my House, Sir).
 

Robme

LE
Ummmmmm, Officers? And you come on here questioning the liquidity of an army officer? Officers no matter how they arrive at such somewhere along the route, undergo a lobotomy In order to remove any brain cells that get in the way of joined up thinking (and map reading).
Very few officers make the grade, unlike SNCO’s who prove their worth before they get appointed to such.
Not every officer obviously, those who came up the ranks clearly in a different league, rather like the major who when I was facing a whole load of shoit, after my OC (Maj Shot-for-brains) was utterly convinced that I had carried out the arson of our company stores, pointed out that as I had been on leave in the US, could not have carried out this wibble of his imagination. Officers, i’v shoit better.
 
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