Aye, I have, lad...
I mind the time I were in a steamer, heading up the Suez Canal with a bunch of dirty bedouins.

Word was that the Egyptians had a work-force 30,000 strong digging out that son of a bitch...and it was up to us poor bedraggled bunch of motherless bastards to incite a revolution.

The sun was as blood, seeping into the horizon. Soon night would fall. I was cleaning my cock with rum, having recently plundered the cabin boy's gully creek. The air was so thick you could chew it.

I climbed up on deck and turned my eyes to the distance. Squinting against the last streaks of sickly sunlight, I made out an army, the shadow of each man stretching across the desert. Trudging across the sand..they could almost be ants. But dirty great ants with shovels. This was not going to be easy. There was something in the way they walked....shambling...stumbling... as if they were dead already.

When a man has nothing to live for, he has nothing to fight for. Darkness fell. An icy sweat broke out across my furrowed forehead and my anus puckered. Someone had to turn these men...these animals into soldiers...or all was lost.

But in the end I did and we won, and when I got home I put on the telly and saw Dr Gunther Von Hagen dissecting some old dead bloke.
(Jimbotfu Bummed in the gob again, Thu 28 Feb 2008, 13:19, Reply)