what are the pre-requisites for working in the cookhouse?

Feck you Heywood. I state categorically that I have never worked, helped out or served in the cookhouse. Such slanderous remarks will be treated in a serious nature and I shall be informing your Adjt to work up some AGAI 67 action on you vile being.

As for the photo my defence is that it must have been taken at about 4 o'clock in the Cabbage Patch when I first lost the use of my muscles and speech.
Never trust a skinny chef as they say :wink:

I suggest you start scoffing the pies and any other fatty processed foodstuffs now, stop attending to your personal hygiene, and take up some new (but terminally boring)hobbies that you can share with your mates. :lol:

There isnt much need to learn to cook as slop jockeys must be the only "catering professionals" outside the staff of the Little Thief cafes chain who are consistently capable of ruining a full english breakfast.

Thank god for the Officers Mess :wink:
more scabs than a leper bird's front bottom. baccy stained fingernails, long, scratching the spots on yer arrse for the use of.

Gravelly voice (caused by too may woodbines) "One egg."
Has anybody been to the cook house at Gib Barracks? The beast in there was a sight to behold. She, and I use the term loosely, was close to 25 stone, was asian so had a dark completion which you weren't sure if it was dirt or not, had side boards, a tash, a stupid squeeky voice and dirty hands. She would be leaning over the hot plate with sweat dripping off her nose into the scoff. There was an alledged pot of a couple of grand for anybody who would shag it.
The ones in the old Krefeld cookhouse were a bit rough. One of them only had one eye and used to speak with a voice last heard on the Terrahawks. They used to hoard all the bread and nick it too.
Stay Puff Marshmallow Man (women?) at Hammerly Barracks - no there's a sight!
I've met some fcuking stinking creatures in cookhouses over the years. A particularly foul mess in the cookhouse in St Tonis in the early ninties went by the nick name of Pork Chop. Minging little creature.

I shared a room with a bloke in Ireland who was scuttling one of the chefs. I was woken up at 5 in the morning by the noise of him shagging her, then saw her 20 minutes later, in full chef kit, going out of the room door to work. He later told me she'd gone off to do the brekkie with his "deposit" in her hair. Truely awful 8O

We had a right little German slapper working in our cookhouse in Herford. Half the regt had been through her so there was usually a fair old bit of..ahem free and easy banter whenever she made an appearance. One day it obviously got a bit too much for her and she screams at the top of her voice at her piss takers " I am not a slag! I am a clean girl", she then pulls out a piece of paper and continues "and I have the hospital letter to say so!"

You could have heard a pin drop..................................for about a nano second!

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