Wednesday, 22 August 2007
Smile for the camera
This camera has been rumoured to have been found by the Iraqi New Army of Peace and Humilliation in a studio run by Mad Mulla Omar Kilem. It is just one of thousands waiting to be exposed once the infidels leave, or so rumour goes.
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
Where the real battle ought to be fought
To ALL the MP's who ignore this problem I say, "Now treat the Courts with the same disregard."
Why do I have the feeling that as long as the subject is not homosexual/lesbion related, few politicians could care less?
clipped from www.timesonline.co.uk
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Double Standards
When you vote for people who have no concept of what makes a soldier, what do you expect?
clipped from www.thisislondon.co.uk
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Monday, 13 August 2007
Peter Jones
Hello again Steve ,
You asked about the demise of Pete Jones so here is what I know.
Pete joined the Corps in about 1962 (his number was RM20452 which is a guide) after drafts to Aden with 45 Borneo with 42 and several tours of Ireland Pete found himself at CTC and continued his time until discharge after serving 36 years!!.
He continued to work at CTC doing his old service job in the new entrants department, after a while he changed jobs but stayed at the camp until ill health forced him to retire, as usual Pete, like many other servicemen was despatched to civvie street without any proper re-adjustment, he asked me if I knew of any flats for rent in the Exmouth area where he decided to settle, think he needed to be around former booties cos that is all he knew. I contacted D—M-- (ex SBS and now explorer) who I knew had a flat going and Pete moved in. D-- and A---- decided to sell the flat and Pete was homeless again, but not for long has I had bought a flat and rented it to Pete. Unfortunately by now (he) was seriously into the bottle and I contacted the welfare at CTC to try to get him help but they sloped their shoulders and told me they could only help him if he contacted them, (but Pete was an "ex bootie and could cope" where have we heard that before?).
I was away in Nottingham a few months later and I received a phone call to say that my flat had caught fire and Pete was in Hospital, I raced back to find Pete had discharged himself and had gone awol, the fire brigade informed me he had fell asleep with a pint of red wine in his hands and a chip pan left on in the kitchen. A few weeks went by and I found he had moved into another flat, I went to see him but he had moved again, a few more weeks passed and in November 2004 I got a call from his elderly mother to say Peter had been found dead in another flat in town ( he had a heart attack) and she asked if I she could pass my name to the local authorities and of course I agreed (who wouldn’t).
I had a phone call from the coroner who asked me to identify the body, after which the body was released to Staffordshire CC (his home) for cremation. I cleared his room of his possessions and returned them to his mother. I went up to Stafford for his cremation which was attended by a bugler from CTC and three members of the Stoke on Trent RMA, a total of 5 RM comrades after 36 years, what a sad waste. His family rarely heard from Pete and even less visited his home town.
I am sorry Steve if this resume is a bit depressing but that’s the way it was, how many more of us will go down the same path?
Yours aye
Terry
Why you should never question a drunk
Why you should never question a drunk
A woman was shopping at a supermarket near Lympstone where she selected:
a half-gallon of skimmed milk,
a carton of 6 eggs,
a large carton of gout giving orange juice,
a head of lettuce,
a 1 kg pack of coffee and
a 10 rasher package of bacon.
As she was unloading her items on the conveyor belt to check out, a drunken bootneck recently thrown out of his house by the labour government, standing behind her watched as she placed the items in front of the cashier. While the cashier was ringing up her purchases, the drunken Royal calmly stated, “You must be single.”
The woman was a bit startled by this proclamation, but she was intrigued by the derelict’s intuition, since she was indeed single. She looked at her six items on the belt and saw nothing particularly unusual about her selections that could have tipped off the drunk to her marital status. Curiosity getting the better of her, she said “Well, you know what, you’re absolutely correct. But how on earth did you know that?”
The drunken sage replied, “Cause you’re ugly.”
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Don't you just LUV Glasgow?
John Smeaton "HERO"
Twas doon by the inch o' Abbots
Oor Johnny walked one day
When he saw a sicht that troubled him
Far more that he could say
A fanatic muslim bastard Wiz doin what he'd planned
And intae Glesca's departure hall
A Cherokee he'd rammed.
A big Glaswegian polis
Came forward tae assist
He thocht "a wumman driver"
Or at least someone half-pissed
But to his shock nae drunken Jock
Emerged to grasp his hand
But a flamin Arab loony
Frae Al Qaeda's band
The mad Islamist nut-case
Had set hissel' on fire
And swung oot at the polis
GBH his clear desire
Now that's no richt wur Johnny cried
And sallied tae the fray
A left hook and a heid butt
Required tae save the day.
Now listen up Bin Laden
Yir sort's nae wanted here
For imported English radicals
Us Scoatsman huv nae fear
Oor hame grown Glesca Asians
Will have nae bluidy truck
So tak yer worldwide jihad
An get yersel tae F***
Tuesday, 7 August 2007
Why an empty bottle?
But when that moment arrives, HE straps on packs and check his breach
And runs into action, teeth clenched tight, charges into the ferment.
Battle, fight or all out War, those empty bottles have a score
Because empty bottles are real men, who fight for us again, again and more
And depart the field to a hero’s chant, to feast not from the fatted calf.
Awaiting him is not adulation, the best wishes of a grateful Nation,
But a Badge he can wear in Tesco’s queues. A Veterans Badge for a debt so huge.
It is a piece of grey composite worn on lapels full of tat
By those who support we empty bottles? Some from afar or four star hotels,
Politicians, voyeurs and entrepreneurs. Those out to make a quick buck,
Oil magnates, arms merchants and sleazy dealers all on the same truck.
Yet Fusiliers, Riflemen, Paras, Marines, Gunners, Engineers real fighting machines
Who return from the mountains for a pint with their pals to this desert of disillusion,
Will not harvest a rich reward for theirs is the payment of non-inclusion.
At twelve o’clock sharp Tony Blair will say “It is with deep regret that I have to announce…”today
Sometimes he is mortal, each Parliamentary Wednesday, for he omits this from his oft practiced verse
Empty bottles will get a badge to wear in Tesco’s queues. A Veterans Badge for a debt so huge.
Why an empty bottle?
But when that moment arrives, HE straps on packs and check his breach
And runs into action, teeth clenched tight, charges into the ferment.
Battle, fight or all out War, those empty bottles have a score
Because empty bottles are real men, who fight for us again, again and more
And depart the field to a hero’s chant, to feast not from the fatted calf.
Awaiting him is not adulation, the best wishes of a grateful Nation,
But a Badge he can wear in Tesco’s queues. A Veterans Badge for a debt so huge.
It is a piece of grey composite worn on lapels full of tat
By those who support we empty bottles? Some from afar or four star hotels,
Politicians, voyeurs and entrepreneurs. Those out to make a quick buck,
Oil magnates, arms merchants and sleazy dealers all on the same truck.
Yet Fusiliers, Riflemen, Paras, Marines, Gunners, Engineers real fighting machines
Who return from the mountains for a pint with their pals to this desert of disillusion,
Will not harvest a rich reward for theirs is the payment of non-inclusion.
At twelve o’clock sharp Tony Blair will say “It is with deep regret that I have to announce…”today
Sometimes he is mortal, each Parliamentary Wednesday, for he omits from his oft practiced verse
Empty bottles will get a badge to wear in Tesco’s queues. A Veterans Badge for a debt so huge.